Private Bloom With Dignity

[Corazona von Ascania]

Ukatis
Capital of Axilla, Royal Palace
Aurelian Veruna​

"Don't tell me he's-"

The hesitation that followed was, perhaps, a little loaded. As the maid nodded, Cora made sure to arrange her features so that her frustration was not so apparent.

Rumors had swirled around her regarding the death of her husband – Prince Horace – several years ago. The official story had ruled his fall an accident, and the heartbroken princess was sent to convalesce far from home, away from all that would remind her of widowhood. There had been a level of uncertainty around Horace's demise, but she couldn't explain away the blade buried in her own father's throat.

As a consequence, there were those within the courts of Ukatis who tended to tread lightly around her. Marcel had been a traitor, of course. A scoundrel who'd taken his own wife hostage, and his death yet another thread woven into the tapestry that was Ukatian power-play. Their history was rife with sons slaying fathers, but rarely did a daughter take up a blade against a patriarch.

Stranger still was that she did not seize the empty throne for her own. A distant cousin of the departed king became the protector of Ukatis, and Cora just happened to be nearby. Buzzing in his ear like a fly. Nudging, never pushing. Pleasant, prim, and existing in loud silence.

"I see." A sharp, short breath rustled a lock of hair framing her cheek. Cora smiled politely. "Thank you. I apologize for disturbing your work." The maid curtsied, and Cora returned the gesture with a tilt of her head before exiting the study.

Her footfalls were not heavy, but they resonated down the hall as she made her way toward the makeshift art studio. It had once been a storage room, now converted for the King to practice his craft within.

Fabian Albinac did not hear her open the door. Or perhaps he did - but it was all background noise to him. Perched behind an easel, he dipped his brush into little pools of color along the palate and applied smooth strokes to the canvas with dignified concentration. Cora took a moment to study his expression before clearing her throat.

"Have you forgotten," she began, "that we have an obligation this afternoon?"

Startled, Fabian's brush hovered in place. He offered the woman a sheepish smile as he set down his tools. "I...apologize, Corazona. I seemed to have lost track of time."

Again, she thought to herself. Fabian was not a cruel man, nor was he the sort that liked to play games. Perhaps that was why he disliked the Ukatian courts so much. Cora sighed. "Do change out of those clothes, first. I needn't remind you that these foreign dignitaries look down upon us enough as it is."

Fabian flushed as he lifted his sleeve, realizing only now that splotches of green and yellow clung to the linen.

Something in Cora softened. Her voice lowered, devoid of the irritation that had percolated just below her controlled tone. "You'll have to show me what you're working on later. But for now – you change, I'll take this Prince of Parrlay to the drawing room."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X​

The drawing room door opened without a knock. Aurelian never announced himself. The guards outside hadn't stopped him, as no one dared, and his boots crossed the threshold with a slow, deliberate weight, as if the floor itself should be grateful.

Ukatis. The name itself sounded like the cough of a sick beast. A backwater world, it had delusions of grandeur, with its painted balconies and quaint stonework trying to be Naboo. But Naboo had elegance; Ukatis had mildew. He wasn't here for the architecture, though. He was here because its borders with Republic space made it valuable, and anything valuable could be turned into a weapon.

The Empire was tightening its grip around the Core worlds, the Alliance scattered like dry leaves in a storm. Out here, there was room to maneuver. He could offer the frightened monarch and his rusting fleets "protection" from the Sith, all while ensuring they served as pawns who wouldn't realize they'd been moved until checkmate.

His gaze settled on Corazona. Her name was whispered like a half-forgotten sin in certain corridors, linked to rumors and blood: a dead husband, a dead father, even a council seat in the New Jedi Order. She was a woman wrapped in politics and controversy the way some wrapped themselves in silk.

He let his eyes drag from head to toe, openly assessing her. She was pleasing to look at, perhaps more dangerous than she wanted to appear, though possibly less dangerous than she believed herself to be. The polite smile she offered didn't fool him; it was a curtain, and Aurelian had always been good at peering past curtains.

Without a word to Corazona, he glanced toward the room's tall windows, noting which were open and how far the drop might be.

His gaze returned to her, and a dangerous smile appeared, the kind that promised charm and just enough venom to keep her guessing. "Lady Corazona," he said smoothly, the title rolling off his tongue like a private joke. "I've heard... so much about you." The tone implied he'd heard all the wrong things.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The Prince of Parrlay arrived without fanfare. Without a single guard in tow, either. Odd, given the number of bounty hunters that must've been scheming after his head. Perhaps his retinue lingered behind, or even melted into the shadows. If word was to be believed, Aurelian Veruna was crafty.

Or just confident.

Cora passively looked on as their guest made his silent judgments, but the glance toward the open window to his right was unexpected. She quirked a brow, letting a trickle of amusement show plain before it smoothed out.

"I've heard... so much about you."

"Oh dear," she laughed, once, softly. The sound was pleasant, like bells nudging the wind. "How unfortunate for you."

With one gloved hand pressed to her heart, Cora offered him a bow. The gesture had the midnight blue hem of her cloak shifting gently around the ankle of her boots. On Ukatis, women curtsied.

When she rose, the same pleasant smile that Aurelian saw through was still pinned to her face.

"Ukatis is honored by your visit, Prince Veruna. I do apologize, but King Albinac has been waylaid with a previous appointment. He will join us shortly."

With a graceful tilt of her hand, she motioned to the table set out before them. Solid oak polished to perfection, ornate patterns carved into its legs. There were two chairs, one at each end. "Please," she said. "Do have a seat wherever you'd like."

One chair would give him a splendid view of a painting mounted on the nearby wall. An artistic rendition of an old Ukatian fairy tale depicting nymphs playing in the water. The other chair was sat near an open window.

Gauzy curtains billowed gently as a slow breeze rolled past. If Aurelian were to peer into the courtyard below, he would not find the fabled blood-stained tiles.

"How do you take your tea?"

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X​

Aurelian did not immediately obey her graceful gesture toward the table. That would have been far too easy or compliant for him, and he had no intention of being either. He let the silence breathe, just a fraction longer than etiquette demanded, until it was almost tangible between them. This pause made it clear he was setting his own tempo.

When he finally moved, it was with a deliberate, unhurried stride. His gaze swept the room, weighing it for weaknesses instead of showing idle curiosity.

Two chairs waited. His eyes lingered on the window, making his choice feel intentional. He ignored the safe, civilized option of the painting. If the whispered rumors about her were true, this was the seat that dared her to prove them.

He crossed to the window chair, running a gloved hand across the carved armrest before sitting. Whether it was dust or grime, or perhaps just the imagined residue of this so-called jewel of Ukatis, he brushed it away with an expression so polite it was clearly a dig. His eyes met hers as he did it, letting the implication settle: her world left its marks.

"How do I take my tea?" he repeated, settling into the seat with languid grace, one arm draped along the armrest. "Hot, and in good company. I trust you can manage at least one of those." The smile that followed looked pleasant but was clearly barbed.

He glanced toward the doorway, as though half-expecting the king to appear, before his gaze returned to her with a mildness that still revealed his calculating nature. "Tell me, does your King make a habit of keeping his guests waiting? Or is this an exclusive privilege afforded only to me?" He allowed the question to hang, just long enough for the air between them to cool a degree, then continued before she could decide whether to answer.

"Curious thing, though," he said, his tone warm but carrying a quiet challenge. "You. Here. When the New Jedi Order is staggering, the Alliance scattered and licking its wounds after, well, shall we say, a regrettable outcome." His words were measured, as if savoring the phrasing.

"And yet, here you are, far from the Core and the fight. Some might call that retreat." He leaned forward slightly, maintaining his lazy poise even as his attention sharpened. "Others," he added with the faintest shrug, "might call it opportunity. I wonder which you prefer."

The smile returned, dangerous this time, a subtle flash of teeth devoid of warmth. He was already in the game, and his choice of seat by the open window made it clear he meant to play it on the edge.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Aurelian chose the seat near the open window. Not right away, of course - he had to ensure that it was known to be his choice, with a quick swipe of imaginary dust for good measure. The gesture was clear: Ukatis was so far beneath Naboo that it registered as little more than the backwater agriworld that it was. A planet that happened to be placed within coordinates of mild importance during the plane shift.

It wasn't a unique view, unsurprisingly.

While the Promised Prince called attention to the King's lack of timekeeping, Cora retrieved a tray from the far end of the room. She interrupted his intentional silence before he could plod on to the next veiled insult, her tone cool and even.

"I would imagine you to be a man accustomed to privilege."

She set the tray down near the open window. As Cora prepared the tea, Aurelian's words coiled around her mind like a snake preparing to constrict its prey. He had the countenance of a man who'd either raise Naboo to great heights, or be dead by next gala season.

"Oh dear," she said as she placed a teacup in front of him. Rimmed with gold, it bore an ornately floral design.

"That's rather heavy handed of you. But, I go where I am needed."

Steam curled from the surface of the cup in lazy wisps, and Cora took a step back. Her head tilted to one side as her brows lifted in consideration.

"I will be heading to Ilum tomorrow morning, if you'd fancy joining me at the war front. Perhaps then, you can discern the answer for yourself."

His smile was akin to a predator bearing their fangs. It was a weapon - everything was. The clothes you wore, the subtleties of your expression, even the seat you chose. He was nauseatingly handsome, and knew how to preen himself to that particular advantage.

Cora clasped her hands behind her back and fixed Aurelian with something akin to patient curiosity.

"But you don't retreat, do you? I saw your speech." A re-broadcast of it, at least, where he'd turned his pain into a rallying cry. The imagery of his blood-stained collar was evocative as it was intentional. "You spoke well. I do hope you've recovered from your wounds."

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X​

Aurelian let the porcelain cup sit untouched between them, steam curling lazily toward his face. He didn't pick it up yet.

"I've seen your war front," he finally said, his voice low and deliberate, like he was unwrapping something heavy. "Coruscant. I watched your old Temple burn. Lightsabers were stacked and set aflame in a pyre so bright it hurt to look at." His eyes found hers, steady and unwavering. "The air smelled of metal and ash. No tea in the galaxy can wash that taste from your mouth."

He leaned back slightly, a picture of relaxed arrogance. Yet, his fingers tapped once against the chair's arm, betraying a sharpened awareness beneath the surface.

"So I ask myself," he continued, "has the Alliance prepared for the war to reach here?" He gestured vaguely toward the sunlit courtyards outside the window, toward the illusion of safety. "While your fleets chase Imperial shadows in the Core, while you pour attention into the grand stage, what happens when the Sith grow bored and look toward your shores?"

His tone wasn't alarmist. Instead, it was musing, almost conversational, as if contemplating the weather. But every word carried the edge of someone who knew what storms looked like when they broke.

"This planet," he went on, "has charm, I'll grant you. But charm won't hold back an invasion. Ukatis sits at the border like an open door." His gaze flicked back to the window, where the curtains stirred. "I wonder if your King has even thought of that. Or if he's too busy painting to notice the wolves."

He finally lifted the teacup, holding it just beneath his lips without drinking. "Ilum tomorrow?" A faint smirk ghosted across his mouth. "Perhaps. I imagine a private trip with you would be... riveting."

Then, softer, with a glint of amusement that didn't quite reach his eyes, he added, "But tell me, Lady Corazona, if the war finds Ukatis before you return, would you be here to defend it? Or will the King be left to find another in your stead?" The question hung in the air between them, as deliberate and weighted as his pause before entering the room.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Watched. He'd watched the desecration of Coruscant not on a holoscreen, but in person.

As a guest of the Empire?

That thought had her expression sobering, dialing into the Prince with eyes that were a little sharper, a little harder than when she'd first appraised him.

"No tea can," she agreed. "Nor should it." There was a pause, during which her gaze sank to the untouched cup in front of Aurelian. Her lips parted, just a hair's breadth, before she spoke. This time, a little softer.

"I was evacuating younglings from the Jedi temple on Tython while they held their…victory pyre on Coruscant. I'd rather they take their time burning our symbols, if it means affording us more time to save what lives we can."

Her eyes lingered on that cup. On the little tendrils of steam that rose from behind the gilded rim, on the sliver of amber liquid it held. Everything she'd felt on Coruscant - the deaths of great Jedi, the unsealing of the nexus, even the strange fear and desperation of her opponent - she felt just as vividly now.

A slow, controlled exhale through her nose, and she let the imagery pass her by.

Aurelian wasted no time in cutting to the heart of an interesting truth. Torn between her duties to the Jedi and her intense, nearly fanatical need to protect her home, Cora could not do both. And if she wanted to overestimate her importance - both had suffered because of it.

The note of guilt that touched her expression had slipped through the cracks of something much larger. Inside, it was crushing. There were times where it threatened to swallow her whole, in every life that that couldn't be saved, in every mile that separated her from her brother.

"Simple charm did not hold back the Mandalorians."

Fabian paused at the doorway, his willowy silhouette casting a long, faint shadow between Aurelian and Corazona. He adjusted the button of his cuff while appraising the two, testing the weight of the air between them.

"Nor did it hold back the Sith. I apologize for keeping you waiting, Prince Veruna. Fabian Albinac," he said by way of introduction. The tilt of his head was far more shallow than Corazona's.

As Fabian occupied the open seat across from Aurelian, Cora set to work preparing his tea.

"Your concern over Ukatis is admirable," he continued, voice soft and measured. With hands folded in his lap, he looked over the king-to-be with a kindly, but tired eye. "We've rebuilt ourself from the ashes - twice - with the Alliance's help. As their future is uncertain, so is our own."

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X​

Aurelian watched her reaction with quiet fascination, his smile thinning but never vanishing entirely.

Her guilt was clear in the way she carried herself. She didn't display theatrical grief; instead, it was folded deep, compacted into something dense and private. It had weight, intensity. Perhaps the most interesting thing was that she seemed to hold it all herself, as if personally balancing the ledger for every loss in the Core. This felt less like weakness and more like an obsession, which made it dangerous.

The sound at the doorway broke the moment. Aurelian turned his head lazily, as if whatever stood there didn't deserve his full attention until he permitted it. The figure was tall, willowy, dressed with immaculate precision. His sandy hair, pale eyes, and polished restraint all spoke of someone raised to be measured and palatable. "So this is the King," Aurelian thought.

He judged quickly, too fast for most to notice, before his practiced mask appeared. That mask was Parrlay's gift to him: the perfect veneer of diplomatic charm, ready at a moment's notice. "Your Majesty," Aurelian said with easy warmth, rising slightly from his chair in a half-gesture that suggested respect without fully committing. "An honor."

They made their pleasantries, Aurelian's voice rich with polished confidence, which sounded sincere if one wasn't listening too closely. He picked up his cup at last, though he still didn't drink. "The Republic," he began smoothly, "always looks out for its neighbors. It's disappointing, though, to hear how much you've had to rebuild. If Ukatis were within Republic space, I daresay you wouldn't have seen quite so much devastation." His gaze slid to Cora then, letting the implication bloom in the silence. "We tend to be better stewards than some of the arrangements you've had it seems."

He noticed she didn't excuse herself, didn't give them room to speak alone. That told him something. She was either too integral to be dismissed, or too curious to leave the game unattended. Either way, she was still playing.

Leaning back, Aurelian's expression turned faintly wistful, though the words were sharper. "If I were a betting man," he said, swirling the tea idly in his cup, "I'd put every credit I own on the Alliance fading. The Empire is on the move, and what I saw on Coruscant..." He let the sentence trail for a beat. "They looked like they were on a war path." His eyes moved from Fabian to Cora, watching both with equal measure, weighing which would answer first. "So," he asked finally, his voice still calm but edged like a drawn blade, "what does Ukatis plan to do when that path leads here?"

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

“An honor in turn for our humble world to host a Scion of Naboo.” Fabian acknowledged carefully. “I trust that Lady Corazona has kept you in pleasant company while I was away.”

“If Ukatis were within Republic space, I daresay you wouldn't have seen quite so much devastation."

There it was again- that pointed phrasing. Designed to get under Ukatian skin, to bring doubts to the forefront. It wasn't unique to the Naboo Prince, but a staple tactic that held a place in nearly every noble court in the galaxy.

Aurelian's gaze would slide over Cora's turned back as she deposited a half-teaspoon of sugar into Fabian's cup. "Your Republic was still in its fledging state when the Sith came - and I suppose it hadn't yet been a thought when the Mandalorians razed our capital." The spoon clinked softly against porcelain as she stirred, her tone just a notch above conversational.

Cora turned and placed the cup in front of Fabian, who gave her a subtle nod in thanks. Only then did she glance to Aurelian, holding his gaze open and unflinching.

"Unfortunately, I doubt we'll ever know for certain."

Fabian grasped the delicate loop of his teacup and raised it to his lips. He took a moment to inhale both the steam and the aroma, then a slow sip.

Cora stepped back, returning to the tea set to arrange the remaining cups and condiments. It had not escaped her notice that the Prince had yet to drink.

With a hefty bounty on his head, perhaps that was not unwise.

Fabian drummed the fingers of one hand against the ancient wooden tabletop in thought. "The Galactic Empire is not incredibly far from our borders, but it is not particularly close, either. Not yet close enough to warrant an immediate panic, and the bulk of Sith forces are busy fighting the Imperials on the other side of the galaxy."

The King's voice was soft, perhaps a little subdued. While a reasonably intelligent and incredibly kindhearted man, Fabian did not take any particular pleasure in ruling. Which, perhaps, was why he'd been chosen for the throne. The antithesis of his gluttonous, blunt, and cruel predecessor.

"I suspect that you would not have asked about our contingency plan had you not come here to offer one in turn."

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X​

Aurelian didn't interrupt her right away. He listened with an intent focus easily mistaken for respect, though it was actually a blend of calculation and curiosity.

When Cora spoke of the Republic being a mere fledgling when Ukatis burned, he inclined his head slowly, acknowledging her accuracy. "You're right," he said, his tone even. "We were just a small regional government not so long ago. But," he tapped his fingers once against his teacup, a subtle rhythm to his words, "fortunately for the Mid-Rim, and for everyone watching the galaxy shift, we've grown remarkably fast."

He let the thought hang, his gaze lingering on her, a faint curve to his mouth suggesting she consider the implications of such growth. "But yes," he added after a pause, "I agree with you. There's no way to know for certain how things would have played out." He gave a small shrug, a gesture that was both conceding and subtly provoking. "Though I imagine it would have been a different story. Maybe the weight of such loss wouldn't rest quite so visibly heavy on the shoulders of this world's caretakers." His eyes held hers on that last word, as if he knew just how heavy that burden was for her.

Only then did he truly turn to the King, giving Fabian his full attention as he answered.

"I like your style, Your Majesty," Aurelian said, leaning back, his grin sharpening a fraction. "Quick and to the point. No drowning in pleasantries over... useless tea." His glance dipped briefly to the untouched cup before him, then slid deliberately back to Cora, who remained in the room.

Then, without ceremony, he leaned forward, elbows braced against his knees. The easy charm in his voice gave way to something sharper. "Our information paints a very different picture. The Empire isn't merely staying put in its own quadrant. They're actively moving to divide the Alliance, and once they've done that, what's to stop the Sith from turning their gaze back toward a weakened Jedi state?"

His voice dropped, making the words intimate and undeniable. "My offer is simple: protection, aid, and the technology to bring Ukatis into the modern age. No more wondering if your enemies will come knocking again. No more rebuilding from the ashes."

He sat back again, fingers curling loosely around the still-warm porcelain. He didn't drink. Instead, his gaze shifted between the Ruler and the Pawn, still unsure which one was which.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The open window stretched high along the wall. It gave those seated at the table a nice view of the treeline, where they'd be able to see the subtle sway of limbs and hear the rustle of leaves before a breeze rolled into the drawing room.

Cora's back had been turned for much of the conversation as she stacked tea cups and wiped a few drops of spilled cream from the tray. She could feel Aurelian's eyes on her, trying to gauge how his jabs had hit.

By the time he'd made his offer, she was standing in front of the open window. Silence reigned as the curtains billowed briefly at her ankles. Eventually, her probing gaze shifted from the Prince to the King.

Fabian was decently surprised at how forthright the proposal had been, but he wasn't shocked. It had been expected. Still, the pair took several moments to digest this information through prolonged eye contact.

The Galactic Alliance's recent instabilities hadn't inspired confidence in Ukatians. Not within the round table of Lords that convened every month, an old tradition that had been discarded during Horace's time, now revived by Fabian's rule. Perhaps soon, they'd be joined by representatives from merchant and trade guilds to discuss planetary direction. There had been some pushback in inviting commoners to the table.

While the High Republic looked like a more attractive option for protection, they were relatively new. Many such empires had fallen just as quickly as they had risen, and they were beset on three sides by hostile territory. Their victory against the Black Sun hadn't been a fluke, but was it reproducible?

Cora brought her focus back to Aurelian. Relaxed, confident, and perhaps as aloof as he'd been when he first strolled into the drawing room, as if the trees outside would bend to his presence. Cora had met many such men. They wore their carefully cultivated swagger like masks, and in the end, she almost always found what was behind them to be incredibly dull.

Was what lurked behind his mask worth something? Regardless of her own preferences, if Aurelian's offer was the right path for Ukatis, then it would be thoroughly considered.

"A generous and optimistic offer, Prince Veruna." There was a note of bemusement in her voice that teetered just on the edge of genuine. Cora turned her full attention upon Aurelian. She held his gaze in a manner that was both piercing and borderline intrusive, as if she sought to peel back the layers of his soul. "What would you ask of Ukatis in turn?"

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X​

Aurelian's eyes followed her the moment she drifted toward the window, he didn't bother to disguise it. He regarded Cora almost inappropriately, a flicker of curiosity suggesting he wondered if she truly wanted to push him. The thought amused him. He glanced once at the King, almost lazily, as if checking to see whether Fabian noticed, or cared, about the pull of attention between them.

When she finally turned back and leveled her stare at him, the air between them seemed to change. Aurelian didn't flinch. Instead, he shifted in his seat, leaning ever so slightly toward her, his posture opening like a man welcoming the intrusion, the challenge. There was something bold in her willingness to peer so deeply, and he found himself liking it. She was a Jedi, yes, but not the stiff, sanctimonious variety he had expected. There was more behind her carefully assembled facade, something he wanted to pick at until it unraveled.

Her question lingered: what would he ask of Ukatis in turn? For a long moment he only held her gaze, as though weighing the words with deliberate slowness. He even hummed faintly, a note that suggested idle musing, though he had known what he wanted before he'd ever stepped across the threshold of the drawing room.

"Well," he said at last, dragging out the word with a thoughtful cadence, as though simply naming things that came to him. "First and foremost, space. Not for us," he clarified with a gentle, dismissive wave, "but for the Alliance's refugees. When they come crawling back to the Republic, begging for shelter, I would rather not subject my own citizens to the strain of hosting them again. Ukatis, though…" He allowed a smile, soft but edged. "You have wide fields and open space. Temporary shelters could be built here instead of cluttering up Republic worlds. Your King would be praised as a benevolent host, and my people would sleep easier knowing the burden was shared."

He shifted slightly, fingers brushing the untouched porcelain before him. "Second," he continued, his tone smooth but now more pointed, "I'd ask for your able-bodied. Men and women willing to stand when called upon. They wouldn't be thrown into some distant conflict, no," he tilted his head, dark eyes flicking briefly toward Fabian. "Instead, they would defend their own soil, and, when necessary, fight for the Republic that will train them. Discipline, structure, and strength. A partnership forged in readiness rather than reaction."

He let that sink in before giving the last piece. Here, he leaned back, the dangerous smile finding its way to his mouth again. "And finally, your fields. A steady export of foodstuffs. Not all the yield, naturally. Just enough to ensure stability and to sweeten the ties between us. A fair arrangement, don't you think? In exchange for protection, for modern technology, for safety…" His hand gestured towards the window, the breeze, the stretch of treeline beyond. "No more uncertainty."

He settled back into the chair as if concluding a performance, his grin easing into something more conversational, less predatory. "Of course," he added lightly, "it is only the beginning of a discussion. Details can be arranged, debated, and refined. But I believe this is a foundation worth building on, your highness."

His gaze flicked between Fabian and Cora once more, weighing which one would bite first, and which one merely watched.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Aurelian was not unnerved. Not that she imagined he would be - he didn't seem the type to cower or find himself easily intimidated. Especially not by someone who was his lesser in nearly every sense.

Instead, he welcomed the intrusion of her gaze. Basked in it, even.

Fabian glanced nervously at the space between the two, which suddenly seemed to hold a lot more weight than it had before. He lifted a brow at Corazona, angling to catch her eyes.

But she didn't meet him right away. She was still assessing Veruna with a quiet intensity. Perhaps a harshness.

"Our land, our people, and our food," she repeated thoughtfully. "Why not just suck the marrow from our bones while you're at it?"

Fabian, who'd since given up on trying to have a silent conversation through eye contact, lifted the teacup to his lips. He choked, quickly clearing his throat.

"That is, perhaps-"

"Nothing is free, of course," she continued, perhaps a bit more pointedly than was acceptable to speak to a King. The dynamic between them was taking shape, and it became apparent that Fabian and Corazona were not a simple master and servant.

"The usage of our space can be managed. We have a particularly recent history that has taught us how to care for those displaced from their homes."

Ukatians had a general wariness of outsiders, but that could be tempered with a proper delivery. With the Alliance's future uncertain, housing refugees would both ease the Republic's burden and reflect kindly on Ukatis. Their people had been recipients of large-scale aid efforts twice in recent memory, and felt uneasy letting a debt go unpaid. This could fill that need.

Fabian had one finger looped at the handle of his tea cup when Corazona glanced his way. Silent consideration filtered between them before he spoke.

"Part of our agreements with the Alliance saw the development of a medical training program. Mostly aimed toward young women who undergo nursing training." Fabian tapped the pointer finger of his free hand against the table, a vaguely nervous tic. "Costs were covered by the Alliance so long as they committed to working for them at least two years after their training was complete. Then, they returned to Ukatis to bring their skills to the population." That nervous hand raised to make a vague gesture in offering. "Perhaps we could build upon that? Make it more robust."

To Veruna's third point, Cora hummed quietly in thought.

"Crop yields have been poor. Even with advances in farming, you'll likely have to wait several seasons before we produce enough excess." Her lips pursed, just slightly in consideration.

"Which, I imagine, could be sold to the Republic at fair price."

Her gaze drifted from the King, slow and measured, back to Aurelian.

"In exchange for all of the protection and security to be offered by a fledgling empire who've managed to beat back a disorganized cartel in a singular, isolated conflict."

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X​

Aurelian's smile widened as she spoke, a sharp glint in his eyes that nonetheless felt like good humor. He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the armrest of his chair.

"The marrow of Ukatis?" he scoffed, his tone light, almost playful. "That's not the most pleasant thought you've left me with, Lady Corazona. I prefer my meals intact, I assure you." He tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes, before his voice became deliberate. "Nothing is free. There's always a price. To pretend otherwise is either naive or deceitful, and I don't believe either of us has the patience for that."

He let the statement hang for a moment, then shrugged, gesturing toward the open window and the forests outside. "As for the refugees, you'll find no hidden cruelty. It's simply a weight off my shoulders. Mid-Rim citizens shouldn't suffer for the narrow-minded Core culture those people cling to. If Ukatis takes that burden, it will be a dignified sharing. This avoids the resentment that often comes with imposition. You can shape them as you see fit, instead of watching them struggle within a culture that offers no patience."

He turned, fixing Fabian with a look that balanced intrigue with pressure. "Your medical program is admirable," he admitted, his voice smooth. The compliment, however, hung on a knife's edge. "If you wish to continue it, I'll see it maintained, provided, of course, it becomes a Republic program. It cannot remain an Alliance one. Their contracts are meaningless here. Break ties with them, and I'll ensure your students learn under a much more effective system."

Aurelian's grin sharpened as he added, dropping all pretense: "Let's not be coy. What I want most are your military-aged citizens. Ukatis stands on the precipice of Sith space; it would be foolish not to prepare. We will train them here, on your soil. They will stand ready and fight for the Republic when the call comes. That is the truth of it."

He let his body sink back into the chair, one hand idly curling against the armrest, as if none of this truly weighed on him. "And the crops? I can be patient. A little long-term investment never hurt anyone. Perhaps, centuries from now, Ukatis could shine like Naboo: a world transformed, lifted into elegance and prosperity because the Republic had the foresight to share its technology with a... primitive world." His smile softened, becoming more charming, though its edge never quite vanished.

Cora's final words drew his gaze. He let her provocation settle in the silence, then chuckled, shaking his head. "A fledgling empire?" he corrected smoothly. "No, my lady, a Republic. One that fought back three simultaneous terrorist attacks on three separate worlds, all without a massive standing army. Tell me, who else can boast that? That gap is now being rectified. The military grows daily. When next the Sith or the Empire strike, we won't simply resist. We will break them."

The warmth faded from his voice as he pressed the point, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "The Alliance was well-established, yes, and it's been beaten to a pulp by both Empire and Sith alike. That's the reality. If I were to gamble on who can do more for Ukatis, who can actually deliver protection, security, and legacy, I'd put my bet on the Republic. Every time."

He sat back fully, one leg crossed over the other, his hands resting casually as if he'd just finished a casual wager over cards. His eyes, however, stayed locked on hers, eager to see if she would keep playing.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The only thing that Cora hated more than a smug, arrogant nobleman, was a smug, arrogant nobleman who had a point.

For Ukatis, she could look past her own ego in favor of a decision that would benefit her people. Aurelian had arrived with a proposal, a starting point that could be workshopped. Perhaps, the High Republic could offer more assurance than the Alliance had.

There were still hangups, though. The Republic, while strong, was relatively new. Were they a flash in the pan, or something actually sustainable? Aurelian seemed to be convinced of the latter. Or rather, he wanted them to be convinced that he was convinced of it.

Then, there were the unsaid particulars of this arrangement. It would take time for the details to iron themselves out, and even longer for their effects to become apparent. She was just familiar enough with House Veruna to question their methods in their rise to power.

To culminate to the point: Cora did not trust Aurelian.

The Jedi attendant shifted her gaze slowly, from the Prince to the King. Whatever passed between them was angled away from the latter's gaze, until Fabian sighed and met the monarch-to-be with a subtle dip of his head.

"Please have your people draw up a contract for further consideration, Prince Veruna."

—​

The palace gardens, at one point, had been a splendid sight to behold. During her marriage to Horace, the greenery had been Cora’s solace. Tending to the plants was calming, almost meditative, even when the Force had felt hollow.

There was one section in particular that had received more diligence and love from the dowager Princess. Her husband knew that.

So, he burned it to the ground.

Years later, she found the strength to tend to the ashen soil. Not with the Force, but with the slow labor of her own hand. Grounding. Calming. Meditative still, in a way.

She needed it after meeting with that viper of a Prince.

And so, knelt at the edge of what had once been a bed of roses, Cora worked the earth. Pulling weeds wasn't glamorous, but it was far less inflammatory.

That was, until a ripple in the Force had her tasting something sour.

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X​

Aurelian's lips curved when Fabian finally conceded, giving that small nod which acknowledged defeat and requested a contract. He leaned back, shoulders relaxing into the chair as though he'd just finished a leisurely game. His eyes, fixed still on Corazona, glittered with the satisfaction of someone who had managed to slip a blade between armor plates without leaving a mark.

"Of course, Your Highness," he said smoothly, rising with the easy grace of a man born to command such rooms. He inclined his head toward Fabian, polite, but his lingering glance toward Cora was unmistakable. She had offered defiance, yet she hadn't won. A dangerous smile ghosted over his mouth as he gave a small, performative bow, then turned to leave.

---

Hours later, Ukatis had lost what little charm it offered him. The palace was dull, its splendor muted by provincial pretension, its courtiers soft and predictable. Aurelian wandered the halls until even the gilding on the walls bored him, then slipped into the gardens, restless as a caged predator. The evening air carried the faint sweetness of damp earth and old stone, but it did little to satisfy the gnawing impatience that always accompanied him when he wasn't moving pieces on some larger board.

That was when he spotted her.

At first, it was the simple curiosity of seeing her alone, bent over a patch of dirt. No royal attendants in sight, no Jedi austerity, only her hands working at the soil, tugging stubborn weeds from ground that still seemed to bear the memory of flame. He paused, posture languid but gaze sharp, studying the careful rhythm of her motions. She wasn't using the Force. That deliberate restraint fascinated him almost as much as the sight itself.

He lingered behind her, not announcing his presence. His arms folded across his chest as he tilted his head, content to watch until he was certain she knew. Surely she felt the weight of his stare, the ripple in the air when he drew near.

Finally, his voice broke the quiet, low and edged with amusement.

"The ruler of Ukatis," he drawled, "should have servants for work like this." He stepped closer, boots crunching softly against the gravel path. "And yet, here you are. On your knees in the dirt. I confess, Lady Corazona… I am surprised."

The smile returned to his lips, a glint of mischief and genuine intrigue in his dark eyes. "Tell me, do you find it humbling? Or is this your way of pretending you are not every bit as highborn as the rest of us?"

His tone was playful, but there was weight beneath it, as though he were testing her answer and the very edges of her restraint.

Corazona von Ascania​