Sibylla's smile lingered politely as she lifted her teacup, though Corazona's words stirred an ache she did her best to keep hidden.
Yes… Lysander does have a good heart. He always did. Too good, perhaps. Always meaning well, always reaching for something that was his alone, free of anyone else's control.
She steadied herself with a sip, considering her words before adding in a reflective tone.
"You do your world no disservice in its defense, Lady von Ascania. Agriculture is not simply an occupation; it is survival. Food, water, shelter, these are the foundations of life. They nourish the body, but they also sustain the spirit."
She let her words rest for a beat before adding.
"They give people the strength to endure, to labor, to dream of something better. Naboo has also known such struggles during its own history of colonization. I am certain the High Republic will come to respect both the contributions and the hard working character of your people."
Her lips curved faintly at Corazona's cordial dismissal of apology, but she added with a trace of rueful warmth, clarifying her intent.
"You are right, Lady von Ascania. It is not my place to excuse King Veruna, that is his burden alone. My words were only for the circumstance. I know well how it feels to hear a loved one's name handled like idle conversation at a banquet. It stings."
Her fingers tightened around the delicate porcelain cup, a small tell against her otherwise calm tone. The memory of Kadaara still pressed heavily against her chest. Aurelian's flippant remark had cut her as surely as it had Lady von Ascania. Yet afterward, after listening to her on why she'd been so stricken at dinner, he had apologized. He had admitted he had been baited by Lady Sal-Soren, that he had lashed out too abruptly. He had recognized the error himself. That he had done so without prompting and genuinely meant his apology mattered.
For all his maddening proclivities, Aurelian was
trying. Learning. Adjusting. And perhaps that was why her emotions remained so unsettled, what it meant for them as King and Voice, how they'd come to work together first as colleagues, then allies, and a growing friendship... and now perhaps... well, Sibylla wasn't certain. The anxiety and confusion lingered long after that night. What to think. What to say. What to do. They had avoided each other since, or so it seemed. Between the pageantry of Coronation week, the endless work she buried herself in, and then Cassian's attempted assassination, there had been little space left to think clearly. Thessaly, Black Sun, rival Houses, all these threats circled closer with every passing day.
And then there was Aurelian himself. After all he had confessed, and the way she had floundered in her response, she could only wonder what he thought of her now. Foolish. Ridiculous. Uncertain. No different than what Lysander had likely thought of her before. The thought made her chest tighten, the weight of anxiety pulling in every direction at once, because it seemed as if she only ended up hurting those she cared about, no matter what choice she made. If she could not decide whether she wanted the crown for herself or simply because it was expected of her, how could she possibly know where her heart wanted her to go? How could she even desire both? Was there even space when she felt tugged in so many different directions under duty, responsibility, and expectation? How did she even know what she truly wanted?
One thing, though, she knew with painful certainty: she did not want to lose another friend, not after Lysander.
Lysander.
Being here on Ukatis, speaking to his sister, made her ache for the words they had never spoken. That conversation had been left unfinished, perhaps because she had avoided it for too long. She had sidestepped not only his decision to remain at the Sith academy, but also her own feelings, the truth of her heart that had shifted long before she was ready to face it. He had called her out on it once, on how she dodged what was growing between them, and still she had done nothing.
The guilt of that lingered even now.
Lysander had been her first true friend, one untouched by House politics or the schemes of others seeking power. He had wanted nothing but her company. To listen. To untangle her worries. To make her laugh. He had no agenda, no concern for appearances. That honesty had been a revelation.
It had felt safe. Honest. Free.
Perhaps that was why it had been so easy to fall for him in those months of hololetters and confidences. And why it ached so deeply now, knowing she had left so much unsaid.
The bittersweet pang pressed against her chest, but Sibylla released her grip on the cup, setting it carefully back into its saucer. She drew a quiet breath, forcing herself into the present.
"I am certain His Majesty already is making arrangements on to how best to mend the matter and offer his apology. My words were only to say I understand the sting of it."
Her tone lifted then, gentler, curiosity in the tilt of her head, those heavy earrings giving a soft jingle as she moved.
"I know King Albinac is consumed with duty, but may I ask, have you considered representing Ukatis in a more official capacity? It seems to me your voice would be as valuable abroad as it is here at home."
