Private Bacta and Blood

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Rainspire, Parrlay
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Rain fell in Parrlay the way it always did when the galaxy was trying to be gentle about its cruelty. Soft, patient taps against the tall windows of the Rainspire. The sky outside was gray, the gardens below blurred into a watercolor smear of green and stone.

Aurelian sat in the chair he'd dragged to the bedside days ago and never bothered to move back. Sibylla lay in his bed, swathed in clean linens and bandages, her face wrapped in white with faint blue where bacta had dried. The medical droids moved in quiet loops, efficient and almost reverent, scanning and adjusting as if she were something rare. She'd been in and out for days. Awake in brief flashes, voice thin, fingers curling around his, then gone again into sleep that looked too heavy for someone so stubborn.

He held her hand anyway. Like it anchored her here.

His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist, counting a pulse he didn't need to count. He'd already memorized it. He'd memorized the rhythm of her breathing too. He hadn't left her side except to change clothes and threaten anyone who suggested he should sleep like a normal person. Normal people didn't watch someone bleed on a holorecording and then pretend they were fine after.

Aurelian leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, slow and careful. "Still here," he murmured, mostly to himself.

Her datapad buzzed. He froze, eyes flicking to the nightstand. The screen lit up again, insistent. Another buzz. Aurelian stared at it.

Don't, he thought. Don't touch it.

But his gaze slid to Sibylla's face, to the way her lashes trembled faintly in sleep, and the fear came back like a blade in his ribs. What if it's Cordé. What if it's family. What if it's something that matters.

"Feth," he breathed.

He reached over and took it, the movement careful so the mattress wouldn't shift. His fingers hesitated a beat before he opened the message. Acier. Of course. Aurelian's jaw tightened as he scrolled. A dossier. Names that stank of blood and ritual and the kind of ambition that didn't need credits to be dangerous. Arris. Vestra. Mercy. The Covenant's key players, laid out like a knife set.

Useful. Then he scrolled again.And there it was. A traitor inside his own house. The words hit like a slap. His throat went hot. His vision narrowed. He could feel anger rise, fast and bright, the way it always did when someone tried to touch what was his. And Acier Moonbound , that smug shadow, had suggested it might be him. Him.

Aurelian's grip tightened around the datapad until the edge bit into his palm. His mind flashed with images, sharp and ugly. The bridge on Corellia. Sibylla's blood. The way his voice had cracked when he ordered fire. The way Dominique had looked at him like he was a weapon that might slip its leash.

He swallowed hard, forcing the rage down before it spilled into the room. Sibylla stirred, a faint shift of her hand in his. Aurelian's head snapped up, and he set the datapad down like it burned. He stood quickly and crossed the room, putting distance between himself and that message. Between himself and the temptation to smash something. He sat on the couch he'd been sleeping on, posture rigid, hands clasped so tight his knuckles went pale.

How dare he. How dare Acier put that seed anywhere near her. Aurelian stared at the rain-streaked window, breathing through his nose like it might cool the fury. He would never betray the Republic. He would never betray Naboo. And Sibylla… Sibylla was the one person he'd never let the galaxy take from him again.

Not for politics. Not for strategy. Not for anyone's clever paranoia. His gaze flicked back to the bed. She slept on, fragile and stubborn even unconscious.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Aurelian Veruna

Consciousness returned in degrees. First came scents -- the cloying sweetness of bacta softened strangely by the familiar lavender and citrus she'd come to know as familiar as her own. The contrast was jarring, with the medbay and comfort braided together along with the pain and care. The latter tugged at memory: murmured reassurance, silky black curls bending close, the steady warmth of a hand clasping hers with reverent, almost unbearable concern.

Aurelian?

Sound followed. Rain, gentle and persistent, tapping against tall windows in a patient rhythm. Beneath her, the bed was impossibly warm, layered in heavy, luxurious linens that made her feel suspended, as though she were floating on a cloud. Or maybe that was the pain stims...or maybe she was simply too tired to tell the difference.

She tried to open her eyes.

It took effort, more than it should have.

Was it dark, or maybe that was her own sluggish mind? It felt as if it were wrapped in cotton and weighted blankets. Night, she thought distantly. Or close to it. But something felt wrong. Off. Confining.

No, wait, something was on her face.

Her brow knit faintly, a soft sound slipping from her throat as one hazel eye finally fluttered open, vision blurred and indistinct with the light smearing at the edges. She blinked once, twice, a quiet groan escaping as a tight pull tugged along her skin sharp enough to make her wince.

One hand rose on instinct in an unsteady motion, her fingers trembling as they reached for her cheek.

But instead of skin, she felt gauze and the firm, restrictive synthskin beneath, the bacta patches binding the left side of her face in place. A sense of dread and confusion filled her foggy mind at the sensation, stealing her breath for a beat.

Then it all came flooding back.

The fire. The scent of smoke. The cruel twist of the Chiss's dark lips. The strike and the pain that slashed over her face thereafter. The metallic copper taste of her blood.

My face...

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Dreams and Nightmares
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian had finally managed to get himself asleep on the chaise. It wasn't his bed, not really. Not while she was in it. He'd tried once, the first night, and the moment he'd seen her against his pillows, wrapped in a bandage and silence, he'd felt like a thief. Like he was taking comfort while she fought to get better. So he'd taken the chaise instead. Close enough to hear her, close enough to reach her if she so much as twitched.

He lay there with his boots off, shirt half unbuttoned, hair falling in dark curls over his brow. His eyes stayed on her long after his body begged him to stop. The datapad sat where he'd left it. He kept thinking about it anyway.

Should I tell her? It would be the honorable thing. It would also be the stupidest thing he could do if she woke up fragile and in pain and realized he'd been reading her messages like some jealous, paranoid boy-king.

And what if she thinks it's true? The thought made his stomach twist. Not because it was plausible, but because it was possible she could be made to doubt him. It seemed Acier knew how to plant rot in a person's mind.

Would it make me look guilty? Aurelian stared at the ceiling, jaw tight. He wasn't guilty. He knew that. The Republic knew that. Naboo knew that. Sibylla knew that.

Did she?

His eyes slid back to her face. To the bandage. To the faint shadow beneath her lashes. To the rise and fall of her chest. This is ridiculous, he told himself. She's bleeding and healing and you're thinking about what she will think about your snooping. Still, his mind wouldn't stop. It paced like a caged animal, circling the same fears, the same anger. Acier's words. The dossier. The implication. He hated that it had gotten under his skin at all.

Eventually, the rain became louder than his thoughts. A steady rhythm against the glass. It had always calmed him, even as a child. Even when he'd been too clever for his own good and too restless to sit still. And the constant, the only constant, was her. Safe. Here. In his home. In his place.

He watched her until his eyes burned, then let them close. His breathing slowed. His hand loosened against the chaise cushion. Sleep took him.

In the dream, the holo flickered above his console again. Sibylla's face, blood-slick and pale, her voice broken by static. Smoke behind her, firelight licking the edges of the frame. Her eyes met his and for one terrible second it felt like she could see him, like she knew he was helpless, trapped in orbit, trapped behind glass and protocol.

"Aurelian," she tried to say, but the sound warped. The message glitched. Her face blurred. Her mouth moved again and this time it wasn't her voice that came through. It was Acier's. Smooth. Amused. Traitor inside your own house.

The holo shifted. Sibylla's eyes widened, fear blooming sharp and sudden as if she'd just seen something behind him. Behind his shoulder. Aurelian spun in the dream and saw himself standing there. Same face. Same crown. Same smile. But different. Cold. The other Aurelian lifted a hand, and Sibylla flinched like she already knew what it would do.

"No," Aurelian snarled, trying to move, trying to reach her, but his boots wouldn't obey. The deck beneath him turned to ash, to smoke, to fire. The Imperial fleet outside the viewport laughed with silent lights.

Sibylla screamed.

He woke with a sharp inhale, body jerking upright like he'd been dragged out of deep water. For a second he didn't know where he was. His heart slammed against his ribs, sweat cold at his temples. The rain was real. The room was real.

Lightning flashed outside, turning the bedroom silver-white for a heartbeat. And in that light he saw her stir.

Aurelian was on his feet before he thought. He crossed the room in two strides, the floor cold under his bare feet, and sat hard on the edge of the bed. His hand found hers instantly, like he was afraid she might vanish.

"I'm here."

He squeezed her fingers gently, thumb brushing over her knuckles. He searched her face for awareness, for pain, for anything that told him she was truly back. Then he shifted to the other side of the bed, leaning in close without crowding her. His gaze moved to the bandage along her cheek, the synthskin beneath, the edges of bacta patches.

His throat tightened again, but he kept his voice steady. "Easy," he murmured. "Don't move too much."

He checked the dressing with a practiced gentleness he didn't remember learning, fingertips barely grazing the edge to make sure it hadn't pulled. "How do you feel?" he asked quietly, eyes flicking to her remaining clear eye.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Where is my mind?
Aurelian Veruna

Lightning burned white behind Sibylla's eyes, and for a few terrible moments, she was back on Corellia, seeing the flash of fire, smelling the scent of dry ash, and feeling the acrid heat where air should have been. Pain and panic tangled together, her heart lurching hard against her ribs as she gasped and tried to sit up, instinct screaming run even as her body failed to obey.

Then Aurelian's voice cut through the chaos.

"I'm here."

Low. Tight. Frayed at the edges, but so achingly familiar that Sibylla leaned into that as her lifeline. His hand closed around hers and the bed sank as he sat beside her, and once again, she was surrounded by his unique scent, the one that clung to her from his sheets alone, only this one was also edged with the scent of salt. Sweat.

Why?

Thoughts scattered when his fingers brushed along her injured cheek, ever so careful along the edge of synthskin and gauze, tender in its graze as much as attentive to any need, and Sibylla slowly felt the panic loosen its grip as she leaned into him.

He wasn't a dream or a hallucination; he was real.

Moonlight bled weakly through the storm, just barely enough for her to trace his silhouette. Dark forelocks had fallen loose around his face, and lightning revealed the stark planes of exhaustion etched into him. He looked like someone who hadn't slept in days. Like someone who had refused to leave.

Had he been here all this time? Wait... where am I?

"I…" She began, only for her voice to scrape out in a hoarse, dry breath. She tried to swallow, only to wince as the tight pull along her cheek reminded her that something was wrong. She shifted toward him on instinct, seeking comfort even as he urged her to stay still.

Awareness returned in fragments, and her trembling hand lifted to brush the left side of her face.

Oh.

The singular thought made her head throb again, the room tilting just enough to feel unreal, hand falling back down to catch along the fabric of his chest. Her fingers curled there, gripping it tightly as if to anchor herself to him, as if he'd vanish into the ether if she didn't. She forced herself to breathe through the ache and the anxiety, her eye flicking to the dim stone and shadow around her before returning to him, her hand curling tightly around his even as she tried to lean against him.

"Hurts," she admitted softly. Then, quieter still as the fuzziness still lingered at the edges, "My head… my face."

She felt her throat burn again, making her try to swallow, only to fail, suddenly feeling embarrassed by the weakness of the ask.

"Water," she whispered hoarsely, "Please."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: You're Safe
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian watched her wake like a man afraid of sudden movement. Her breath hitched, panic rising in her eye, and he felt it in his own chest like a mirror. He tightened his grip on her hand without thinking, anchoring her the only way he knew how. She tried to speak and it came out raw, scraped thin. Aurelian's jaw flexed as she winced, as her fingers reached up and found gauze instead of skin. Her hand drifted down and caught his shirt, clutching him like she was drowning. It nearly split him open.

He leaned closer, his free hand hovering uselessly near her shoulder, near her hair, near the bandage. Touching felt like a risk. Not touching felt like cruelty.

When she whispered, "Water," something in him finally snapped into motion.

"Yeah, I've got it."

He rose too fast, crossed the room in two long strides, and went straight to the dresser. The pitcher was already there, waiting. His hands shook as he poured into the glass. Just a little. He forced himself to breathe, to steady it. Don't spill. Don't fumble. Don't make this harder for her.

He turned back and returned to the bed, sitting on the edge again. "Alright," he said softly. "Slow."

He slid an arm behind her shoulders, careful of every inch of her, and lifted her just enough to help. The glass hovered at her lips. His thumb braced the rim, controlling the tilt so she wouldn't choke. He watched her swallow like it was the most important thing in the galaxy.

When she'd had enough, he set the glass aside and kept his arm around her, refusing to let the distance return. His eyes searched her face, the one clear eye, the tightness in her brow, the pain. It made him want to burn the whole galaxy down.

"You're home," he said, voice unsteady despite his best effort. "Parrlay. With me." He swallowed, throat thick. "It's been a few days," he added, gentler. "You scared the living feth out of everyone."

He tried for a smile. It didn't land. His hand found hers again, fingers threading together like he could keep her here by force. "Your father argued," Aurelian admitted. "A lot. He wanted you under Abrantes security, surrounded by med staff, locked behind ten doors." His eyes darkened. "I told him no."

The memory flashed hot. His fury. The way the room had gone still when Aurelian stood his ground.

"I told him you'd be safer here. That if anyone wanted to finish what they started, they'd have to come through me and my security first." His voice lowered, fierce and absolute. "And he made me promise."

Aurelian's gaze dropped to her bandage. His chest tightened so hard it hurt. "I promised I'd keep an eye on you," he said quietly. "So I have. Every hour. Every minute. I haven't left."

He didn't know how to explain what it had done to him, seeing her like this. He'd loved people before, in the careless way of youth. He'd flirted and smiled and thought himself untouchable. This was different. He loved her. Was in love with her. And this was the first time the idea of losing someone had felt like dying.

His hand rose, hesitated, then brushed her hair back from her forehead with aching gentleness. "We're safe. You're safe. And I'm right here while you get better."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: I'm with you.
Aurelian Veruna

It was hard not to drink the water slowly; had it not been for Aurelian's control over the tilt of the glass, Sibylla might have drunk too quickly and accidentally spilled over herself.

By the time she was done, the water had done its magic, and her throat felt better, the scratchy roughness gone. She exhaled a heavy breath, finding herself leaning against Aurelian's chest, closing her eye and taking a few moments to take everything in.

She felt the slight brush of his breath over her head as he spoke, the slight rumble within his chest with every word, the low, slightly unsteady tenor of his voice washing over her with a certain sense of security and reality that she honestly desperately needed.

Home. He told her, but even though it was dark, the expansive room didn't hold familiarity. At least, until things began to click as he clarified that they were on Parrlay.

He brought her to his home. Rainspire. That drew a measure of surprise that opened her eye and slightly shifted her face to look up at him, her fingers curling along the fabric of his shirt in surprise at the revelation.

That her father had agreed to let her be here was a startling fact in and of itself -- by all accounts, she was still subject to her father's oversight and governance until she was twenty-one or married.

It was a lot to take in, but honestly, at the end of it all, she was just glad Aurelian was here. She knew her family would also be worried and concerned, but if her father had made Aurelian promise, then that also meant he was supposed to provide ample updates.

You scared the living feth out of everyone.

The way he had hoarsely uttered that earlier, combined with how he told her that he had spent every minute and hour here by her side, meant it had been no exaggeration.

No, Sibylla thought to herself, as her right hand came up to find the trace of his jawline, to feel the rasp of stubble there along the warmth of his skin. There may not be enough light to see his eyes clearly, but the shadows and angles of his beloved face, along with the ache in his voice as he carefully brushed the strands of her hair away from her face, told her enough.

He'd been wretched. Worried. Strung tight enough to face her father and bring her to the one place he felt he had control over. It was his default, that she knew now, after years of really getting to know him and the past year of being with him, loving him. Learning his many facets and what he tended to do when he spiraled. It wasn't just that she scared everyone.

She scared him. Terrified him so.

Her other hand lifted, slow and unsteady, sliding around his ribs until her palm found the solid line of his back. She pulled him in with what little strength she had, pressing her forehead against his cheek, breathing him in like oxygen she hadn't realized she'd been starving for. Familiar. Steady. Real.

"I am sorry," she whispered, the words scraping raw as they left her. "I… everything just -- "

The thought splintered, too big to hold all at once. Fire. Fear. The blank space where memory should have lived. She swallowed hard, lashes fluttering as she tried to steady herself against him. To let the thrum of his heart and the rhythm of his breathing steady her.

"Thank you," she added instead, voice hoarse, weighted with everything she couldn't yet say. "For being here."

Her fingers flexed faintly at his back, as if confirming he was still solid, still close. Her mind raced even as her body lagged behind, trying to stitch together fragments of time that refused to sit still.

"How long has it been?" she asked quietly. A few days could mean anything now. Three days. A week. Long enough for the galaxy to change without her noticing.

Her brow knit, and she gave a grimace as the bandage tugged again, worry edging through the fog.

"And what happened after?"

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: What hasn't happened?
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian didn't stop her when she pulled him in. He let himself fold around her carefully, like she was something breakable and precious and he was the only thing keeping the world from touching her. He slipped under the covers beside her, slow enough not to jostle the bandages, then eased her against his chest until her weight settled.

There. That's better.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lips lingering in her hair. The sound of rain filled the room like a steady hand on his spine. "Relax," he murmured against her. "I've got you."

Her apology hit him harder than any accusation ever could. He felt it in his throat, in the tightness behind his eyes. She shouldn't be sorry. She shouldn't be saying anything except I'm alive. But she was. And she was here. "Don't," he said quietly, a little rougher than he meant to. He softened it with another kiss. "Don't apologize to me. Not for that."

Her fingers found his jaw, traced the stubble there, and it sent a sharp warmth through him. Aurelian's hand slid to the back of her head, protective, possessive in a way he didn't bother to hide. He listened to her breathing until it steadied. He could do this. He could just… be. No royal chambers. No endless crises. No political theater. For once, the Republic could spin without him gripping the axis.

Thank the stars I don't oversee the whole of it anymore.

Tona could handle the daily work. She'd already proven she could. And Aurelian could finally do the one thing he'd been failing at for years: stay in one place, with one person, and let the galaxy howl outside without answering it.

Then she asked, "How long has it been?" Aurelian's jaw flexed. He could feel her mind trying to claw its way back into order, trying to catch up. It was too soon. She was still shaking. Still in pain. Still waking up like the galaxy might be on fire again.

He brushed his thumb over her knuckles. "A little over a week." That was true. He hadn't stopped counting.

"And what happened after?" she asked. There it was.

He stared at the ceiling for half a second, as if the stone might offer him guidance. The truth rose in his mind in sharp flashes. Barely getting her out. Her blood on his hands. His voice on the bridge, too loud, too cold. The bounty he'd thrown into the galaxy like a blade. The arguments with officials. With her family. With anyone who tried to take her away from him. Then worse. Sith carnage on Coruscant. The Empire cracking, fleeing into the unknown looking for their Emperor. Warlords circling like carrion birds in the Core. Corellia becoming a prize again.

If he told her, she'd sit up. She'd push through pain. She'd try to work. She'd try to fix it. She'd make it her fight. And she couldn't. Not right now. Aurelian lowered his gaze to her face, to the bandage tugging at her skin. His chest tightened.

No. I'm not giving that to you.

He leaned down, lips brushing her temple. "We brought you home," he said simply.

He felt her shift against him, like she wanted more, like she could sense the weight he'd just locked behind his teeth. So he gave her something else. Something softer. Something that would keep her here, in this bed, in this moment.

"And I've been listening to you speak in your dreams," he added, voice turning light on purpose. "About a dashing king you're madly in love with."

He paused, like he was truly considering it. "I wonder who that could be."

The smile came, dangerous and boyish at once. The kind that used to charm senators into forgiving him for sins he hadn't even committed yet. He pulled her closer, careful of her injuries, and rested his cheek against her hair. "I'm glad you're okay," he admitted, and the honesty in it stripped the teasing bare.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: How bad is it?
Aurelian Veruna

He was deliberately keeping things from her.

She could feel it.

Not lies. Aurelian didn't lie to her. But omissions, careful and deliberate, like shielding a flame from wind. The way his answers came to focus on that she was home. The way his eyes flicked away for half a second too long.

Part of her wanted to press. To demand every ugly detail.

The rest of her was simply too tired.

Exhaustion clung to her bones like gravity. The bacta stims left everything soft around the edges, thoughts drifting like fog over water. Fighting through it felt like trying to sprint underwater.

So when he eased into the bed beside her instead, when the mattress dipped and his warmth seeped into her side, Sibylla let out a slow, shuddering breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

A week.

A little over a week. The number landed heavier than any diagnosis. A week was enough for governments to fall. For wars to start. For entire cities to burn. There was no helping how her mind began to race, drifting back to Corellia, to what must have happened after --

And then he ruined the spiral entirely.

Sleep talking about a dashing king that she was madly in love with.

The heat that flooded her face was instant and catastrophic.

"I… would… n-never!" she sputtered, the denial so high and strangled it betrayed her immediately that it could very well have been a possibility.

Shiraya above.

Her mouth opened, then closed again as she shot him a look. Even in the dark, she could feel his smug satisfaction like a physical thing. She didn't need to see the grin to know it was there.

What did I say?

Did I actually say that?

Mortification flared brighter than the lightning outside.

But then his arm tightened around her.

And the teasing slipped away, replaced by a quieter, heavier tone. One that echoed the fear he must have lived with while she lay here unmoving. If it had been him in this bed, she would have broken the galaxy apart for him.

Sibylla's arms slid around him tighter, as if unwilling to let him go.

Carefully, she tipped her head back, following the warmth of his breath until she could press a soft kiss beneath his chin. Then another. Slow. Grateful. A quiet trail of affection until she reached his lips. Then she kissed him, as if to confirm she was still alive.

Still his.

She let her forehead rest against his cheek, giving a slight, amused twitch of her lips at the scruffy, unfamiliar sensation of his stubble there. But after a second, she sobered and took a deep breath.

"I am too," she admitted, grateful she was okay. That she was alive.

The silence stretched between them for a few moments, filled only by rain and distant thunder.

Then memory crept back in.

"…She threatened to execute me," Sibylla murmured quietly, thinking back to it all. "For trying to contact Dikut Pryce. Somehow decrypted my transmission. Before I knew it, we were surrounded."

Aurelian would feel the slight tension along her jaw as it tightened.

"She killed them. No hesitation. Right in front of me." Her fingers curled faintly into his shirt. "Then tried to blame it on me. Said I would face Imperial justice for their murders."

Cold anger threaded through the haze.

"I knew what she was the moment she smiled. A sociopath." Her voice steadied. "So surviving became the only objective. I knew Cassian would come. I knew you would."

She swallowed, thinking back to Aurelian's words and her training.

"I just needed time."

Her eye slipped shut, and she tried to draw closer, her hold tightening as the bandages tugged faintly along her cheek. She ignored it, pressing her forehead nearer, anchoring herself in the warmth at his chest.

For a moment, she said nothing.

She listened instead to the steady rise and fall of his breathing. To how he held her and drew her close.

Then, in a quieter, more fragile way than she rarely allowed herself to be, "…How bad is it?"

She was not asking about pain. Not about the throbbing that pulsed through her skull or the tight, burning pull along her face. She was asking about what had been taken. About how much blood she had lost. About what the mirror might one day show her when she was strong enough to look.

How much of herself had been carved away.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: It looks fiiiiine
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian went still as she spoke. He listened, jaw tight, heart twisting with every detail she gave him like it was new. It wasn't. He already knew. He'd watched the recordings until he hated himself for it. He'd forced himself to see it all, frame by frame, as if knowing every second would give him control over it. As if control could undo what had been done.

It hadn't.

He kept his breathing even while rage crawled up his spine. The threat. The bodies. The way she'd been cornered like prey. She shouldn't have had to be brave like that. Not alone. Not surrounded by monsters wearing authority like a costume.

His hand tightened in her hair, careful, grounding. "You did everything right," he said quietly. "You survived."

He could feel her tension when she mentioned the smile. Sociopath. Aurelian's mouth went hard. He pictured that face again and his vision narrowed. If she ever comes near you again, I'll make sure there's nothing left to smile with.

Sibylla shifted closer, ignoring pain, and he hated that too. Hated that she had to ignore anything at all. He wanted her whole. Untouched. Untaken.

Then she asked it. "How bad is it?"

Aurelian knew exactly what she meant. Not the pain. Not the weakness. Not the nightmares waiting for her once the stims wore off. She meant her face. The thing the galaxy sees first. The thing she'd always worn like armor and elegance at once. His chest tightened. He lifted his free hand and brushed her hair back gently, fingertips barely grazing her temple, avoiding the bandage. He made himself meet her eye.

"It's not bad," he said, steady. "It will heal."

He watched the smallest flicker in her expression, the fear trying to hide behind pride. He wasn't letting it. "You'll be as beautiful as ever," he added, and then, because she needed it and he needed it too, he let a little mischief into his voice. "Maybe now people will think twice before messing with you."

The corner of his mouth tugged up. A dangerous smile, softer than it usually was. He squeezed her tighter, careful not to hurt her. "You're safe. I got you the best care credits and favors can buy. You're going to heal so well it'll feel like it never happened."

He didn't say the rest. That she wouldn't forget. That he wouldn't forget. That he'd already been changed by the sight of her blood on his ship, by the way his hands had shaken while he ordered medics to move faster, by the helpless fury that had eaten him alive in the hours after.

He rested his forehead against her hair and closed his eyes. I almost lost you. The thought came sharp and ugly, like a blade pressed to the inside of his ribs. He hated how little control he truly had. Whatever title they wanted to put on him, none of it meant anything when she was bleeding on another world. He kissed her hair again, slower this time. Possessive. Reverent.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Not what I imagined.
Aurelian Veruna

Part of Sibylla wanted to scold him for it.

For the gentle humor. For the careful way Aurelian spoke, as if he kept his tone light enough the truth might soften too.

As if this were nothing.

As if she hadn't woken wrapped in bacta patches and synthflesh.

It didn't feel minor.

Not with the weight of the bandages pulling along the left side of her face. Not with the stiff drag of synthskin every time she so much as frowned. She had traced the edges earlier with trembling fingers -- the upper line nearly brushing her temple, the lower curve skirting the hollow of her cheek.

Too much.

Far too much to be 'nothing.'

All her life, Sibylla had learned how to be seen.

The perfect daughter of House Abrantes. The poised smile. The polished silhouette. Naboo's bright, ideal young diplomat, all grace and composure. Her face had always gone into rooms before her words did. First impressions were currency.

Beauty was armor.

And scars… scars told stories.

Stories the court would invent if she did not. She could already imagine the whispers in marble halls.

Poor thing.

How tragic.

How unfortunate for the Voice of Naboo.

Pity dressed like politeness and judgment wrapped in silk. The mere thoughts coiled tightly in her chest.

And yet…

Aurelian's ridiculous joke still tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Just barely.

She felt his lips brush her hair again with warm reverent comfort and some of that tension slipped loose like a knot finally untying. She tried not to follow the darker path of what-ifs. Tried not to wonder if she would still look like herself. Still look like someone worthy of standing beside him.

Still beautiful in his eyes.

Yet the question still lingered and burrowed in her mind anyway.

After a moment she swallowed and then exhaled slowly, shifting closer, fitting herself against him on instinct.

Only then did it register.

They were… actually in bed together.

Not stolen hours between crises. Not collapsing on opposite ends of a couch after negotiations. Not passing each other in corridors at dawn.

Just this.

Storm outside. Warmth inside. His arms around her, holding her close.

The absurdity of it almost made her laugh.

Of all the ways she'd imagined sharing a bed with Aurelian Veruna , it certainly hadn't involved bacta patches and medical droids hovering like anxious aunts.

"…You know," she said softly, breath warm against his chin, voice still rough but threaded with faint, stubborn humor, "this is decidedly not what I had in mind when I imagined the notion of sharing a bed with you."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Oh, you imagined my bed?
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh. Not the sharp, clever one he used in court. This one was softer. Relieved. He shifted just enough to look at her properly, careful not to jostle her. Even with bandages and synthskin, even with exhaustion clinging to her like fog, she was still Sibylla. Still stubborn. Still bright. Still here.

Thank Shiraya.

His thumb traced slow circles over her knuckles. He could feel his own heartbeat finally settling, like his body was only now accepting that she'd made it home. That she wasn't going to slip away the moment he blinked.

"I'm just happy you're in my bed at all," he murmured, voice low. Honest.

The truth sat heavier in him than anything else: that monster could have taken half her face and he would still love her. It wouldn't change a thing. If anything, it would only sharpen the devotion into something violent and permanent.

He leaned down and kissed her hair again, lingering. "I love you," he said simply, like it was a fact he couldn't afford to soften. His eyes caught hers in the dim, and that familiar dangerous smile finally returned, faint but real. Mischief in the cracks of exhaustion.

"But..." he said, voice turning playful. "how did you imagine it?" He tightened his arm around her gently, possessive without force. "Go on," he coaxed. "I'm listening."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Oh wouldn't you want to know.
Aurelian Veruna

The low rumble of Aurelian's laugh was as endearing as it was comforting, and Sibylla couldn't help the way the corner of her mouth lifted at the sound, even if the motion tugged faintly at the bandages along her cheek.

"I love you too," she murmured, soaking in every bit of his affection as it settled over her. Her forehead brushed gently against the stubble along his jaw, and she let out a soft giggle at the rasping sensation.

Her hands splayed wide over his back, then curled lightly inward, reacquainting herself with the simple reality of him lying beside her. The warmth. The comfort. And, embarrassingly enough, the oddly complicated business of figuring out where exactly her legs were meant to go against his.

She had never had this problem before.

Halfway through debating whether to slip her leg over his or between them, his knowing, playful question about what she had imagined sent heat rushing straight to her face.

Thank Shiraya for the darkness of the room and the faint sliver of moonlight through the storm clouds, sparing her the indignity of his seeing the unmistakable flush warming her cheeks.

"Oh, here I thought you already heard quite enough from my half-conscious murmurings," she teased back, tossing his earlier remark at him and hoping fervently she hadn't made a complete fool of herself.

"Perhaps you should tell me?" she shot back, feeling a bit more like herself as he did his best to incite her. Her hand drifted absently over his chest, brushing the soft fabric of his shirt, curiosity sparking.

Is this what he wore to bed?

Never mind that she was in a nightdress she could only assume Tona had changed her into.

Surely it had been Tona. Right?

Shoving that thought aside, Sibylla shifted her attention instead, glancing around what little of the expansive room she could make out.

The bed alone was enormous. Certainly larger than her own.

"Is this a guest bedroom?" she asked quietly, curiosity threading through her voice. "The bed is massive."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Lots of room for activities
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian let her fidget. He kept his eyes closed, a faint smile tucked into the corner of his mouth as she tried to solve the quiet problem of two bodies in one bed. It was almost absurd, watching Sibylla Abrantes, who could dismantle a senate committee with a single sentence, now overthinking where to put her legs.

He didn't rush her. He just listened to her breathing, felt the careful shifts, the way she tried to pretend she wasn't thinking so hard. Then she teased him about her sleep talking, and he huffed a low laugh into the dark.

"Oh, you mumbled," he said, voice warm with amusement. "Quite a bit. Some of it… wildly inappropriate about the King." He opened one eye just enough to glance down at her, the grin in his voice even if she couldn't see it. "I can only imagine what you were envisioning in those deepest dreams."

And in that tiny window, while her mind was distracted and her pride was busy catching fire, he took the opportunity. Aurelian slid his hand down, found her leg gently, and guided it with quiet certainty. He pulled her closer and positioned her leg securely across his, settling her like she belonged there. Like it was natural. Like it was done a thousand times already. He held her there, arm firm around her back, his thumb moving slow against her side. The humor faded into something softer, heavier.

"I'm just…" His voice caught for a second, and he didn't bother hiding it. "I'm just happy to be here. Like this. With you."

The rain filled the silence after, steady and patient. He drifted, eyelids heavy again, the exhaustion finally winning. Then she asked, quiet as a thought, "Is this a guest bedroom?"

Aurelian's eyes opened. Even half-asleep, the question offended him on principle. He gave a short, incredulous laugh and tightened his hold like he could physically block the idea from existing.

"What?" he murmured, like she'd suggested he'd put her in a closet. "No."

He brushed his lips to her forehead, voice low and certain. "Of course not. Like I said, you're home."

A silent moment passed, and then he admitted it, simple and final.

"This is our room."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Stay with me like this
Aurelian Veruna

"I would… never --" came Sibylla's immediate, flustered reply, imagining all the rather embarrassing, inappropriate thoughts that had been fed by a recent addiction to a particular set of novels, only to have her breath hitch at how Aurelian so easily solved the matter regarding her positioning, flushed against him, one leg curved over his.

Intimate as it was, deliciously daring, the maddening man succeeded in making her thoughts flee, leaving her mind utterly blank.

How was it that he could do that so easily? Cast her thoughts aside and make her a puddle of excited nerves and flustered sensations, even as she felt safe and protected in his arms?

I'm just happy to be here, like this, with you.

It was the way Aurelian's voice landed, heavy with what he truly, honestly felt, that made Sibylla's heart skip a beat as much as her sense of self melted into it. It resonated within her. Mirrored the aching desire she had felt over and over as the galaxy grew more chaotic day by day.

How they had each been looking forward to a vacation. To time with each other. To just be. And if she were honest, to connecting and being together in a way they hadn't been able to explore before.

They'd said no comms. No holonews. No work. No family concerns.

Just them.

Who would have thought that, instead, it would be an injury that forced them into the time she had wished for them to share?

Not quite what she had planned.

No, she mused as she snuggled closer, breathing him in… not quite, but she'd take it. Especially as she felt the claws of Corellia lingering at the edge of her mind. But even as her thoughts drifted, they quickly snapped back to attention, the mention that this was their room, had Sibylla snap her head back slightly to gaze at him in bewilderment at that revelation.

"Our room?" she echoed, startled, repeating it quietly as if she had misheard.

But she hadn't.

Another flash of lightning glimmered outside, and there was enough light to glimpse the expanse of the room as Sibylla perked her head up for a better look. Even in the fading afterglow, moonlight feathered through the large arched windows that lined the circular space.

No, this was no guest room.

Even in the dimness, she caught the stone walls, polished dark wood, and the clear suggestion of expensive, well-crafted furniture.

He wouldn't have commissioned an entirely new room… would he?

Sibylla mused incredulously, remembering how he had done precisely that for the joined piano and studio room for them to share.

No, that wouldn't make sense. Not with the way she'd sworn she smelled Aurelian's scent wrapped around her when she first woke amidst the sweetness of bacta.

This had to be his private quarters.

His room -- one he now said was theirs, reiterating that she was home.

The significance of that did not escape her.

Ever so slowly, she turned back to look at him, the dim light barely revealing the sharp planes of his face, those thick dark lashes resting shut, tension dissolving with every second he lay beside her.

It was in that moment that Sibylla was struck by the very clear knowledge of just how much Aurelian loved her.

He was taking no chances, keeping her within his sight, tucked close in the spaces he called his own.

With quiet, grateful reverence, Sibylla sank back against him, laying her head down beside his shoulder and snuggling closer.

Warmth filled her, and despite the lingering anxiety of waking after her attack and the uncertainty of the injuries hidden beneath her bandages, she knew one thing with absolute certainty.

She was home.

Softly, almost shyly, she murmured against his chest,

"Careful now," she confessed with a playful breath, "if this is what being home feels like, I suspect I may grow dangerously attached."

The tip of her nose brushed his cheek as she settled more fully into his arms. Her eye slipped closed, lashes lowering as her body finally gave in to the quiet pull of exhaustion and the steady rhythm of his breathing, coaxing her to sleep.

She let herself sink there, wrapped in his warmth, in the certainty of him, in the rare and precious stillness neither of them ever seemed to earn. Then, as if to make it absolutely clear, she whispered.

"Stay with me. Just like this."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Priorities
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian barely made a sound at her warning. Just a small huff of amusement against her hair, like she'd said something adorable instead of dangerous. "Careful now," she'd said, playful and soft, like she wasn't already curled into him like she belonged there.

As if that wasn't exactly what he wanted.

He tightened his arm around her, slow and careful, and let his mouth brush her temple. The bandages made him swallow hard, but he refused to let that be the last thing he felt. He focused on the warmth of her body, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the simple miracle of her being here. In his bed. In his home. In his arms.

"Good," he murmured, voice low with sleep and certainty. "Get attached."

Because he already was. To her presence in his space, to the way her name lived in his chest now like a second heartbeat. To the fact that she fit against him so perfectly it felt like the galaxy had been wrong before this moment. Aurelian pressed his lips to her hair again, reverent, and let his eyes close. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised, and it wasn't flirtation. It was law.

He faded into the night with her tucked close, and for once, the darkness didn't bring teeth.

When he woke, it was sunlight that dragged him back. Pale gold spilled through the tall arched windows, turning the room soft around the edges. The storm was gone. The air smelled clean, like rain rinsed the city and left it gentler.

Aurelian blinked, disoriented for half a heartbeat, then remembered. Her. He turned his head, and there she was exactly where he'd left her, curled into him like she'd always been meant to be. Her hair was slightly tangled, her lashes resting against her cheek, her mouth relaxed in sleep. The bandages were still there, the synthskin still catching faint light, and it still made something brutal tighten behind his ribs.

But she was breathing. Warm. Safe. Shiraya, she's beautiful. Even like this. Especially like this. First thing in the morning, unguarded and real. The kind of beauty no court could manufacture. His fingers moved without thinking. He brushed her hair back from her face, gentle enough not to wake her, and let his knuckles graze her cheek. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss every inch of her skin that hadn't been touched by violence.

Instead he just watched her for a long moment, memorizing the peace. It hit him then, quietly and completely. That might have been the most peaceful sleep of his entire life.

Aurelian swallowed, careful with the feeling, like it might spook and vanish if he held it too tightly. He shifted slowly, easing his arm out from beneath her head, testing her weight, making sure she stayed comfortable. She murmured something soft in her sleep and curled closer into the warm space he'd left behind.

He slid free from the bed like a thief leaving treasure behind and padded toward the door with the silent purpose of a man on a mission: breakfast, and nothing that might disturb her.

The door opened. And there stood Tona. Arms crossed. Expression sharp enough to cut glass. Impatience radiating off her like heat. Aurelian froze, then immediately lifted a finger to his lips. Tona's eyes narrowed further, which Aurelian had once thought impossible.

He leaned out, stepped into the hall, and pulled the door nearly shut behind him with exaggerated care. Then he ushered her down the corridor with a quiet wave, like he was herding a wild animal away from a nursery. She followed, but only because she chose to.

The moment they were far enough, Tona hissed, "Are you planning on hiding away forever?"

Aurelian gave her a lazy look, though his body stayed tense, alert to every sound from the room behind him. "I'll take as long as it takes."

"You have responsibilities."

"I have priorities."

Tona scoffed. "Oh, don't start. You vanish and suddenly I'm doing your job."

"Sounds like you're doing it well," he said, all charm, knowing it would only irritate her more. It worked.

Tona stared at him with pure annoyance, then sighed like the universe itself had disappointed her. "For the record," she said, voice clipped, "I am not doing this for you."

Aurelian's brow lifted. Tona continued, eyes hard but not unkind. "I like her. She's good for you. So I will tolerate the chaos for her sake. Not yours."

Aurelian's mouth twitched. "Touched."

"Don't be smug," she snapped. He watched her stalk off down the hall like a general marching into war, then exhaled through his nose, equal parts amused and grateful.

When he returned, he carried the tray himself.

Juice in a tall glass. Warm tea. Fresh fruit. Soft bread. Something simple, nourishing, and gentle. Nothing that required effort. Nothing that would remind her she'd been hurt. Aurelian eased the door open and slipped back inside, quiet as a shadow. The sunlight still lay across the bed, and Sibylla was still there, wrapped in the sheets, breathing softly. Home, he thought again, and the word felt like it finally meant something. He set the tray down carefully and crossed back to her, sitting on the edge of the mattress. His fingers found her hair again, smoothing it back, taking her in until she woke.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: I like this.
Aurelian Veruna

Warm.

It was so warm. Comfortable really. The sort of warmth found in fresh sheets and a deep mattress, in the soft cradle of blankets tucked close on every side, in a place the world could not quite reach.

Lavender drifted in first. Then citrus. Clean linen... and beneath it all the faint but familiar sterile sweetness of bacta.

It was then that her mind surfaced slowly, like a diver reluctant to leave the water -- but it was the touch that brought her fully back. The gentlest of traces of blunt fingers smoothing a stray lock of chestnut hair from her forehead as though it were something precious.

Brow creased before she was even awake enough to understand why. The motion tugged faintly at the bandage around her eye, the tight pull a small, stubborn reminder of injury and reality. One dark lash fluttered once, twice, and the world seeped in through gold morning light.

And him.

Aurelian.

For one fragile, suspended heartbeat Sibylla thought she was still dreaming.

She had entertained enough foolish daydreams of this very thing -- of waking up beside him in the quiet intimacy of morning, sharing the same small pocket of existence.

Shyness stole over her all at once and she felt that warmth gently rise to her cheek. That ridiculous flutter followed in her chest, its soft wings beating somewhere behind her ribs. The sight of him like this, no pretense or court charm, just a warm early morning half smile.

The morning light painted over a new vision of Aurelian she hadn't seen -- those dark curls mussed and tangled about by sleep that fell where they pleased. A darker stubble shadowed his jaw, rougher than usual, and she wondered, with a fleeting inappropriate thought, how it would feel against her skin. The faint circles beneath his eyes told their own story, of many nights spent awake watching over her instead of himself.

Not in the distant, royal way the galaxy saw him.

In the human way. The kind that made her chest ache. The kind that made every nerve spark to life.

She liked this.

Waking with him beside her. Close enough to feel his warmth. Close enough that the air between them felt shared.

Was it terribly selfish to want this? To want it only for herself? To tuck the moment away like contraband and refuse to share it with crown or Senate or duty? Because when he looked at her -- truly looked at her -- something in his expression stilled her breath, weighted with so much feeling it almost frightened her.

As though she were something fragile and miraculous all at once.

Her lips curved before she could stop them, a small, sleepy smile blooming slow as sunrise.

"Good morning," she murmured, voice thick with sleep.

She stretched a little, then settled again, hands folding beneath her cheek against the pillow as she tilted her face up toward him, studying him with sleepy, quiet, private delight.

"Are you an early riser?" she asked, drowsy amusement threading through her tone. The blanket slipped lower, cool air brushing her bare shoulder, the thin fabric of her nightgown rustling softly.

"One of those dreadful souls who greets the sun before it's even had the decency to arrive? Up for some punishing physical exercise regimen before breakfast?" She had teased Elian terribly when she found out he had begun such a routine. Was Aurelian the same? If so, a mischievous desire rose that was more than just mere jesting. Because beneath it all, she was still shy and still felt a little bit flustered.

Still uncertain how one simply… existed like this beside someone they cared for so deeply.

He was her first in so many quiet, unnamed ways.

First to see her like this. First to sit vigil. First to greet her in the hush of morning.

And she hated the small fear that lingered, too -- the bandage at her eye, the unknown beneath it, the worry that she might look different, diminished.

Less.

So she hid behind wit, as she always did. Little jokes like stepping stones across deeper water. Anything to keep from looking foolish. Anything to keep from revealing just how much this moment meant.

Because if she let herself feel it fully...

She might never want to leave this bed at all.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Peak Physical Form
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian's mouth curved before he could stop it. She was awake. Properly awake. Looking at him like he was something worth keeping.

"Good morning," he said softly.

Her teasing landed exactly where it was meant to, light and clever, a ribbon tied over something deeper. He didn't call her on it. Not yet. He just let his gaze travel over her face, careful around the bandage, and felt that familiar knot in his chest loosen a fraction. She was warm. She was here. She was talking about morning routines like the galaxy hadn't tried to tear her apart.

"An early riser?" Aurelian leaned back a little, settling against the headboard. "Just depends on what I did the night before." His eyes flicked over her, amused. "But in general, yes. I am."

He didn't add the real reason. That unless he was hungover, he'd always been the first one up in the Rainspire. Up and out before his father woke. Before the house remembered what it was, and who he was supposed to become inside it. Funny. His father wasn't even here anymore, and Aurelian still couldn't sleep in. As if the habit had teeth. As if rest was something you had to earn, and he never did.

Sibylla's blanket slipped low, her shoulder bare, and his attention caught there like a thief.

"Dreadful though?" he repeated, mock offended. He sat up straighter, then tipped his chin toward himself with a lazy sort of arrogance. "That punishing physical exercise gets this," he said, directing her attention to his bare torso without shame.

Then his smile sharpened, wicked and pleased. "And you seem to like it, so…"

He relaxed back again, watching her reaction like it was the most entertaining thing in the galaxy. It felt good, teasing her like this. It felt normal. It felt like something they were allowed to have. He reached out and brushed his thumb along her cheek, just beneath the edge of the bandage, gentle. "What about you?" he asked. "Are you one of those dreadful souls who sleeps in till the afternoon, yet wakes up just as stunning as you are now?"

He didn't wait for her answer before lifting the tray and setting it carefully in her lap, adjusting it so it wouldn't tug at her sore spots. Juice, tea, fruit, bread. Nothing heavy. Nothing that would make her stomach turn. Aurelian watched her poke at it, the smallest hint of hesitation, and something in him went still. Don't push. Don't hover. Don't let her see how badly you need her to be okay.

He leaned in anyway.

"Eat," he murmured, voice warm but firm. "Even if it's just a little."

Then, while she was distracted by the food, he began checking her bandages with slow precision. His fingers barely grazed the edges, eyes scanning for seepage, swelling, anything the medical droids might have missed. He hated that he'd learned what to look for. Hated that this had become routine.

His jaw tightened as he adjusted a strip near her temple. Careful. Controlled. "You tell me if anything hurts," he said quietly. "Even if it's small. Even if you think it doesn't matter."

Because it all mattered to him.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Wait, where did your shirt go?!
Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla was sure that Aurelian would be able to feel the sheer amount of heat radiating from her cheek, even as he hovered close to check her bandages after the whirlwind of commentary and teasing the man was determined to make her flustered over.

It had begun with the simple, devastating revelation that at some point during the night, Aurelian had simply… lost his shirt. And now there he was in the pale wash of morning light, voice still rough with sleep, every word wrapped in teasing affection that painted images her traitorous imagination latched onto far too easily.

Which meant…Had she been sleeping against him bare-chested all night?

When? How? And why, in Shiraya's name, had the pain stims been strong enough that she hadn't noticed him moving at all?

Not that she minded…

Well, that wasn't the point.

One hazel eye drifted again before she could stop it, catching a closer look than she had ever quite allowed herself before. Morning light traced every clean line and defined plane of muscle, the warm bronze of his skin unfairly distracting as her attention followed the shape of him entirely against her will.

Then snapped back up to his face, catching his laughing, smug, and infuriatingly aware smirk.

Ugh, blast him!

Just depends on what I did the night before, he had said, as if that wicked glint in his eyes didn't make it perfectlyclear he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

And what was worse? It worked. Every time.

Even now, with the faint warmth of his breath ghosting along her cheek and the breakfast tray upon her lap, Sibylla found herself gripping the edges far tighter than necessary, latching her hands there like they might betray her.

Because if she didn't…

If she didn't keep them occupied…

She might very well reach out and trace that sun-warmed skin herself.

He was doing this deliberately, and he knew it. To which, part of her wondered, was it to distract her from her injury, to tease, or some medley of both.

Alright, focus. What was his question? Ah, sleeping in. Truthfully most of her time in recent years had been in waking up early to do some manner of schedule regarding work. More so upon her appointment as Ambassador, to where Mandalorians certainly did not indulge in any sort of sleeping in. Then her time came as Voice, quickly followed by Interim Queen and there was hardly any time to spare for indulgences to linger in bed.

However, if this is how she'd be waking up every morning perhaps she'd be more than willing to rebel a bit and indulge...

Sibylla bit her lower lip and took a deep breath. Focus, Sibylla, focus!

"I do not sleep in," she replied primly, or at least, that had been her intention. What came out instead was this utterly unconvincing, breathless, and distracted sound of her that only annoyed her further.

She tried to muster indignation, to bristle with proper dignity, but it was rather difficult to appear stern while half-buried in warm sheets and staring up at Aurelian Veruna's bare throat, sleep-tousled curls, and tracks of tanned, toned pecs like some smitten academy girl.

"Certainly not in recent years," she amended, smoothing her tone as though that might rescue her composure as she took a slice of bread to take a bite and then chewed furiously as if that would make it all better. It didn't. "Though… I suppose indulging once or twice might qualify as a guilty pleasure."

She shifted her eye towards him just enough to find him already watching her.

Of course he was.

The realization sent heat racing straight to her cheeks.

Oh blast it!

His proximity did not help. Nor did his state of dress. Nor the entirely unfair way morning light seemed to cling to his skin, warm and sun-touched like he carried summer with him wherever he went.
Shiraya preserve me.

Her thoughts began to wander somewhere deliciously scandalous.

No. Stop. Absolutely not. Behave yourself, Sibylla.

She dragged her attention back with effort to take another bite of her toast, grateful for something practical to cling to.

"It feels tight," she admitted, voice quieter now. "A bit itchy… but otherwise all right."

Her fingers drifted upward, hesitating near the bandage before retreating again.

Then, after a small pause, softer still, she asked, "When can they be removed?"

There it was, that crack in her armor. The question she'd been trying not to ask but did so anyway.

When could the bandages be removed? Certainly the synflesh would linger longer, but without the bandages she'd get a better idea at the extent of the damage.

"...and...was my eye also injured?"

Her hand dropped instead to toy absently with the edge of her toast, crumbling it between her fingers as though the poor thing had personally offended her, eyes lowered in a rare show of uncertainty she couldn't quite hide.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: When you're ready.
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian saw it the moment he leaned in. The way her composure slipped, just a little. The way her breath changed. He filed it away without comment, a private satisfaction warming his chest. If she was going to recover here, in his home, she would have to get used to him as he was. Shirtless mornings included. Especially when he slept.

Still, he softened as he moved closer, his focus narrowing to the bandage at her temple. He adjusted the edge carefully, easing the pull where the synthskin tugged too tight.

"There," he said quietly. "That better?"

Good, he thought when her shoulders eased. Even small comforts mattered right now. Especially the ones he could give her himself.

He stayed close, closer than necessary, partly because it helped, partly because he wanted her attention away from the ache and the waiting. He could feel her watching him from the corner of her eye, could feel the tension humming through her.

"They can be removed when you're ready," he said, meeting her gaze so she knew he meant it. No pressure. No schedule. "There's no rush."

Her next question landed heavier, and he didn't dodge it. He never would with her.

"Your eye wasn't significantly injured," he said, calm and certain. He lifted his hand again, tracing just beside the bandage, never touching skin he shouldn't. "Your face took most of it. The medics have been focused on healing the skin properly. That's what all this is for."

He watched her hands worry the edge of the toast, watched the doubt creep in. That did something sharp to him.

"You're going to be fine," he added, lower now. Not a promise he couldn't keep. A fact. He straightened just enough to catch her eye again, then tipped his chin toward the tray. "Eat," he said gently. "Then maybe we can remove the bandages together. If you're up for it."

Together mattered. He wanted her to hear that part.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Do you even eat?!
Aurelian Veruna

"Yes... thank you," Sibylla replied to the quiet way Aurelian had gently taken care of adjusting her bandages. They lingered there for a moment as he explained her injuries, next steps, and recovery time. When he finally told her that her eye had been spared, that her sight would not be permanently affected, relief washed through her in a dizzying wave. She would still see the world. Still see him. Still watch Naboo's skies change color with the seasons.

And then, just as swiftly, Elian rose unbidden in her thoughts.

For a few seconds, guilt and shame rose in a wave, and Sibylla couldn't help but bring her free hand up to play with the carved pendant Aurelian had given her on Life Day, and she worried its familiar edges between her fingers. How selfish it felt to be grateful for her sight when Elian's was fading, year by year. Human, perhaps, but the thought lodged all the same.

Human, perhaps, one would tell her, but the mind raced to uncertain and perhaps nonsensical areas when in such a position.

She nodded as Aurelian finished, offering him a faint, grateful smile that couldn't quite hide her worry.

"Eat. Eat," She echoed lightly, "Says the man I have yet to witness place a single crumb in his own mouth." Her hands wrapped around the warm porcelain cup of tea, and she tilted her head as she studied him.

"Or have you already satisfied your appetite?" She shot back, granted, unable to help how her eye betrayed her, flicking down for a heartbeat to the bronze lines of his torso. She sighed inwardly, rolled her eye at herself, and lifted the cup for a careful sip.

Only to pause and latch her attention back upon his face, and asked in the most incredulous huff, "Just how are you still so tanned?" she demanded, raking her eye over him this time, with her own brazen, incredulous sweep. "Is it genetics, or have you been conducting meetings while sunbathing?"

It was every bit as much of a way to distract herself, sparing her from thinking about whether she did decide to take the bandage off, what she might see when they did.