Private Bloom With Dignity

[Corazona von Ascania]

As Aurelian knelt, the lack of pageantry pulled her attention in a way that was ruthlessly sincere. Cora left her trowel in the dirt, and turned her head to give the prince her undivided attention. The manner in which she met his gaze wasn't kind. It was brutal in its honesty, blistering in its scrutiny, and balanced by an intentional impartiality.

She sensed no deception. A slow inhale through her nose was followed by an equally measured exhale. The scent of herbaceous air hung heavy where they were, even low to the ground.

"Things work differently here," she acknowledged in a low murmur. "Jedi do not rule. And women - we don't have a seat at the table."

Her gaze spilled over the expanse of charred soil, which for a moment, seemed to go on further than it actually did. "But," she added as her focus drifted back to Aurelian, "we can serve the table."

Cora let her words fall, quietly ruminating on how much of her tender past to let slip through the mask and give color to the picture he was trying to draw. He'd come to her genuine enough for a man of his station, but she still didn't have a handle on his level of integrity.

Gloved fingers closed around the handle of the trowel, but the implement didn't yet move. "Noble daughters are marriage fodder. That was how I first served Ukatis; as a wife to the crown prince." Her upper lip curled slightly. "He was not a…pleasant man."

Horace's nature was no great secret. She had no great secrets for Aurelian.

The trowel moved, heaving a heaping scoop full of dirt to the side. "This garden was my solace," she murmured. Two fingers of her free hand wriggled into the dirt, and after a few tugs, freed another root from beneath the surface. Cora held it up to the light, and the dried husk took on an amber hue.

"And he burned it."

If Aurelian had a particular knowledge of horticulture, he might've recognized the thick stems she'd unearthed as silphium; an herbal remedy used in the countryside to prevent pregnancy.

Cora ran her thumb along the root's dried surface in a moment in contemplation. Had Horace known what she'd been growing, or had it simply been about taking away what little joy she'd managed to carve out for herself?

A careful, almost reverent hand placed it with the others and turned her gaze back toward Aurelian with a soft wariness. "Before Ukatis was attacked by the Sith and Mandalorians, before we'd joined the Alliance, we fought each other almost routinely. Axilla has burned dozens of times. Entire villages completely razed, returned to the earth. Every time, without the technology of the core, without the resources of worlds like Naboo, we rebuilt. We lived, but not much changed. Most don't see us as much more than a backward, backwater world."

The way she drifted off might've implied that she wasn't far from disagreeing.

"But the way I see it, change can take root with the right tending. Ukatis will never be Naboo, but I don't think that it should try to be. The people, the land, certain traditions and aspects of our culture – I want to not only protect them, but lift them into something greater."

If she'd maintained his gaze, she draw it down to the barren flower bed where her finger tapped against scorched earth.

"Something greater, that's still us."

Cora lifted the trowel, watching as the soil fell from it in granules. They hit the flower bed below like little punctuations. "You want to know why I'm digging around in the dirt?"

This time, when she looked to Aurelian, something flashed in the ocean blue of her eyes. A stroke of lightning in the storm, an electric tinge that hadn't been there before.

"Because I don't want to burn what I hate. I want to grow something from it, even if all I have to work with are ashes."

She angled the trowel to the side, and this time dry soil fell in a stream. When it was empty, the implement struck the ground with a decisive thuk as thin metal dug back into the dirt.

"I don't doubt that you care for Naboo. It'll be hard to convince me that you would care for Ukatis - I've meant quite a few men who've made grand promises, and nearly all of them fell through in one way or another."

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X​

Aurelian listened, uncharacteristically silent. He tilted his head slightly as she spoke of ashes, of fire and rebuilding, of lives spent carving roots into a soil that never stopped burning. The dangerous smile he usually wore was gone, replaced by a thoughtful intensity. His dark eyes were fixed on her, sharp and focused.

He didn't interrupt, not when she revealed the garden's history, nor when her words touched on the bitterness of her forced marriage. A muscle ticked faintly in his jaw, considering a past he couldn't fathom, a feeling of powerlessness. He simply remained, one knee in the dirt, arms resting loosely on his thigh. His stillness was deliberate, a conscious effort to give her room.

When she finally finished, the conviction of her words sealed with the final thuk of her trowel, Aurelian drew a slow breath. He let it out on a quiet hum, carefully selecting his next words.

"You don't want to burn what you hate," he said softly, echoing her words. "You want to grow from it." His eyes flicked briefly to the dried roots she'd laid aside, then back to her face. "That, I respect."

His expression shifted. The barest hint of his familiar smile touched his lips, but it was steadier now. "If growth is what you're after, then perhaps my task here is simpler than I thought."

His tone grew firm. "I won't make grand promises, because you've already had too many of those, and too few kept. I won't add my name to that list. What I will do is give my effort and my influence to see that Ukatis has the soil to take root in. And I imagine I'll do my best to aid in that process, however much you'll let me."

Aurelian's gaze lingered, the intensity softened now by something rarer: genuine regard. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping low, almost conspiratorial.

"I don't need you convinced, Lady Corazona. Not yet. Convincing is cheap. All I need is for you to be open: open to Naboo, to the Republic, to what we can offer. From that point," his dangerous smile finally returned, restrained but unmistakable, "all I can do is prove it."

He held her gaze a beat longer, letting the statement hang between them like a gauntlet cast at her feet, before finally leaning back, giving her space once more.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Take away the bluster and bravado, and how much of the man was left?

A surprising deal, it seemed. Aurelian was good at playing the game; he knew the cards that he held, and even some which belonged to his opponent. Kneeling in the dirt, his tactics switched from something less barbed, but a little more impactful.

He'd taken her measure and altered his approach to be more palatable. A calculated, subtle performance like this was more dangerous because it felt genuine.

As the wind rolled through the barren garden, so too did the Force whisper to her. Nearby hedges, near and manicured, rustled their approval in a soft hush.

"I see."

Cora had studied Aurelian without speaking, but there was nothing quiet about her. She was still, but motion lived in her eyes. A storm not tamed, but in a churning lull. Like the eye of a hurricane, with a violent wall cloud closing in from the near distance. "You enrich the soul, while I tend to it."

The trowel in the dirt caught the light as it peeked through the leaves, glinting sharply.

Ukatis was not yet in dire straits, but Cora never wanted it to be. Not again. Naboo was a risk, but so was staying with the Alliance.

Her lips parted slowly before she spoke. "My father was a man with many faults, but I daresay he was right about one thing: the purpose of a noble is to be a caretaker of his people." Her voice dropped an octave, low and grave, and the way she looked to Aurelian was a piercing as it had been in the drawing room.


"I will be open, and I will watch. You will bleed for Naboo again, just as I will for Ukatis.” The corners of her lips quirked into a faint, knowing smile. “I suppose that the trick lies in learning not to bleed out entirely.”

Her focus dipped to the flowerbed, softening a measure. Two fingers slipped beneath the dirt, then flicked a bit of soil at the Prince. The gesture was almost as playful as it was symbolic.

"Take a little bit of Ukatis with you when you go."

It was her turn to wear a smarmy grin, albeit the ghost of one.

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X​

Aurelian blinked, his usual calm demeanor faltering for a moment as a bit of soil landed on his dark tunic. Surprise, a rare expression for him, crossed his face, disarming in its unexpectedness. His lips parted as if to laugh, but he only shook his head once, his dark hair catching the last glint of the setting sun.

His dangerous smile returned, slow and deliberate, edged with amusement. "Well played," he murmured, using two fingers to brush the fleck of dirt from his chest. "Few would dare."

He rose smoothly from his crouch, standing to his full height with the natural ease of someone used to holding attention. Looking down at her, still kneeling in the dirt, an expression of complex interest settled on his face. It was a look he seldom shared: respect mixed with mischief, and curiosity balanced with caution.

From an inner jacket pocket, Aurelian took out a slim, cream-colored envelope, sealed with a deep crimson wax crest. He weighed it briefly in his fingers before offering it to her.

"In a few days, Naboo will host a Future Regents Dinner," he said. His voice, now back to its smooth, practiced tone, carried a hint of sincerity. "It's an evening where Naboo nobles investigate one another, usually in finer clothes than these." He glanced quickly at her gloved hands, still in the soil, a flicker of humor in his eyes.

He held her gaze, placing the envelope within her reach. "I hope to see you there, Lady Corazona. You, and your king. It will be riveting."

Stepping back, he adjusted his jacket with a practiced tug, regaining his usual controlled aura as easily as slipping on a second skin. Still, the faint smirk suggested the soil on his chest had unsettled him, but in a good way: he saw it as a challenge.

"I'll leave you to your garden," he added, his voice softer now, carrying a hint of real emotion. His eyes lingered a moment longer, dark and bright. "But don't think for a moment I won't take Ukatis with me. You've already made sure of that."

With that, Aurelian turned on his heel. His boots crunched lightly on the gravel as he strode back toward the palace, the envelope and that flick of dirt already etched into his memory.

Corazona von Ascania​