Private Confessions

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

The condo was saturated with the scent of a cozy dinner still waiting to be tasted. Notes of spice danced along with a faint smoky char, drifting from the stove. Nearly an hour passed since he'd put the finishing touches on it. Vegetables were softened to ideal texture, while meat was carefully seared, matching Naniti's personal preference; the habit carried over from those shared meals back on Desevro. The ritual was a secret delight, an excuse to dote on the Togruta in the moments they managed to share. Empty plates stared back from the counter.

Barely two cycles passed since the return to Byss. On Kuar, the hunt set him in the crosshairs, pursuing a Chiss once known as Remowa. Why? Even now, standing near the kitchen island, he couldn't articulate everything. In hindsight, the reason was thin, but the instinct had been solid. His brother, Acier, whistled for the hounds, so a blade was drawn and offered.

Seen from afar, there was an aura of composure around the young Sith. Up close, that illusion surely crumbled beneath scrutiny. Gone were the intricate braids that always bound his moonlit hair. A short sleeve shirt revealed scars along his arms, crawling from wrists to his elbows, flesh puckered under lightning.

Movement served as a reminder of the price paid; a sharp hiss escaped through his teeth as he shifted, clearly favoring the left leg. His ankle was still battered from where he'd been stabbed. While some bacta treatment dulled the sting, there were micro-tears pulling against inflamed tissue. Nerve signals lagged, which resulted in delays when he flexed. Earlier attempts at shadowboxing proved to be a disaster. Pivots failed, footwork lacked grace, and running became something entirely unreachable. And perhaps worse than the physical aches was the fracture of a disciplined routine. Realization of his dependency on structure took root.

The blue light of a datapad washed over Lysander with a series of reports pulled from the Core's network. Concentration remained elusive; he drifted through the information, mindlessly scrolling without really absorbing much of it. Beyond recent unrest, another array of questions clawed at him.

 

[Naniti]

Naniti had been used to moving around. Hadn't given much thought to any kind of permanency. They were always called to action; always some strategy meeting or invasion to perform. Lysander had gotten close to the seat of power in the Covenant by virtue of Mercy being his Master if nothing else. She hadn't mentioned it, but she did feel envious of him having such a powerful Master. One that seemed to favor him, in fact. 'Like him' to turn a phrase. So, for him to have established the condo on Byss as some sort of place that belonged without ties to operational matters... It was somewhere they could meet instead of flying around in Covenant space torn apart by missions.

The Togruta slipped through the door with a smile. Why shouldn't she be happy? Her 'Prince' was there and they were going to share a meal together. She had grown quite fond of these encounters -- things well above and beyond pursuing and slaughtering prey. Experiences that'd given her more than anger or rage.

"Lysander," she called as she swept into view with a small box in hand. It was prudent to announce herself. Sith didn't get fearful, but they could be paranoid. "Are you studying reports again? While you're cooking. I promise, for at least the next ten minutes no one's going to do anything remarkable out there."

She set the small box down on the counter, and circled around to carefully rub his shoulders. "You haven't been aggravating your injuries again, have you?" Wounds weren't failures, they were lessons. Some lessons required you spent a little time dwelling on them -- also known as healing. And some people felt like drawing out how long it took to heal by doing too much too soon.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

The holographic scroll continued holding him captive when she came in.. or most of him, anyway. A corner of his attention already turned toward the door before sound arrived, which was either trust or carelessness, and among the Covenent, the difference usually mattered.

His chin tilted toward the datapad. "Nothing here looks particularly pressing today, nothing worth stealing the evening over." Supply routes shifted across the screen, from the frontlines to activity aboard Lyrandar. Whether such details escaped her notice was another matter entirely. Experience had taught him Naniti possessed the sharper palate.. in more ways than one.

With a tap he dismissed the display into nothingness. The datapad slid toward the edge of the counter until it disappeared beneath a folded stack of napkins; perhaps burying it there might discourage him from reaching for it again.

He tipped his head back with an appreciative hum. To make her ministrations easier, a shift in weight followed. Adjusting his torso to favor the good leg, one arm encircled the Togruta’s waist to pull her snugly against his chest. His forehead settled softly against the elegant curve of her montral; silence captured him there.

Lips parted, but the words stalled; only then did his gaze lift to find those blue eyes. “Hi. Welcome back.” It was nice to have another voice in the condo again. "I’m fine," he lied, or at least, he tried to, though the hitch in his breath betrayed the pain in his ankle. "You treat me as if I’m made of glass."

He then nodded toward the box on the counter. "What secrets have you brought to the table tonight?"

 

[Naniti]

Quiet laughter bubbled up as she found herself nested in close to Lysander. He was the only one that made her relax. The only presence she didn't try to discern their true intention or if they planned to betray her. It was a shared moment she could simply... enjoy. Maybe that was wrong for a Sith to do, but Naniti didn't hate it.

She turned her eyes to look up at him with a smile on her dark lips. A soft hum followed him saying he was alright. Lysander always put on a brave face. Well, she wouldn't question just how 'fine' he was and undercut his bravado.

"Glass? You? You're more like beskar. You get scuffed up, but don't complain." The Togruta poked his chest.

A hand reached over to slide the box in front of Lysander. "Just a little something. They were out of holocrons." It was a small artifact with inscription on it she thought he might find mildly interesting to unravel. Might turn out to be important, or just a form of amusement.

"I'm equally as curious what feast you have cooking. I could smell it down the hall."

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

Tenderness smoothed Lysader's gaze as it returned to Naniti; a palm draped over the fingers that'd jabbed him. That remark of hers was a little dramatic, wasn't it? "Well, if I'm beskar, then you're the only thing that's ever managed to leave a permanent mark on me." A sheepish curve appeared, the foolish, self aware kind that admitted he'd just uttered something entirely moronic. But masking it would've been pointless; there was already an entire history of verbal misfires tripping him up around her.

Curiously, remnants of the duel crumbled into nothing. Fingers loosened their hold and danced away to the box. He nudged the lid open. Of course. A puzzle. Something with just enough mystery to ensnare his for hours, perhaps days, should the pieces prove vexing. Frankly, it was better use of one's attention than anything waiting on the datapad while off duty. "Is this your scheme to hijack my focus when you're not around?" An image bloomed in his mind.. himself clicking away at these very pieces while two Sith shredded each other in the background; a quiet laugh left him before the absurd vision dissolved.

Her words confirmed the dish wasn't burnt; "I was hoping it'd lure one hungry Togruta," he said, then amended, before she could dissect his phrasing, "A violet one, of course."

Circling around the kitchen's island, another tilt invited Naniti to occupy the space next to him. Approaching the stove, Lysander lifted the pot's lid to reveal thick cuts of meat. "Shaak. Thought I'd mix it up from the usual nerf and bantha." Reaching for a knife, he sliced through it, exposing a rosy center. "Marinated overnight in citrus, garlic, cracked pepper, and a hint of smoked salt." Emerald orbs flicked toward the vibrant vegetable medley. "I cooked them separately at a lower temp to keep them crisp."

Maybe it bordered on overkill for a simple home dinner. But lowering standards just because the galaxy wasn't watching would have made for a poor argument. Time devoted to reminding Naniti of her worth never felt wasted.

"Tell me what you think!" slipped out eagerly, punctuated by a playful tap of the serving spoon.

 

[Naniti]

Sometimes she got the advantage with words somehow, but Lysander was always good at playing along. "I like the sound of that," she admitted. It wasn't moronic. And who was she to judge someone whether they were suave or not?

Naniti chuckled at his accusatory tone. "A Togruta likes staying on peoples' minds, you know." Lysander could do with a little distraction when she wasn't around too. There were times she'd worried he'd become a little too mired in the political goings on and Mercy's not-so-tender lessons. Then again, Naniti was used to such things. They were normal. But for some reason she got worried they might alter the balance the two of them had. Thankfully, it hadn't.

"Oh, well, consider the mission a success." A chance to eat in and just be together would be nice.

After he moved, she followed suit to look at the pot's contents he'd chosen to display. Shaak meat. "Sounds like a plan." A little variety to their meat along with all the dishes certain was a good plan. She wouldn't mind if he became an expert at a recipe, but it didn't hurt to shake things up a bit too. Marinated too? "Sounds like it'll be full of flavor." Not to mention moist.

Then there were the vegetables. "I'll be the judge of that." A quick wink followed. Crisp vegetables were better than mushy ones. And she would eat some of them even if they weren't meat. Naniti always did; he'd spent so much effort and time preparing a full meal, after all.

"If it's ready, I'll tell you after it's served." There was a pause before she reached over to retrieve tongs from one side. Naniti dipped a small vegetable in the greases of the meat, blew on it, and then popped it in her mouth. There certainly was a crunch to it. No burnt crispy, but full bodied. After she swallowed, Naniti gaze Lysander a long stare. "I think you keep amazing me with your cooking skills, Lysander. I can't wait to get a mouthful."

Her blue eyes checked for place-setting to see if he'd set the plates and utensils out yet. If he hadn't, she'd set to work on doing that so he could serve the food when it was good and ready. Otherwise, she was content to loiter and figure out what she could do so Lysander wasn't burdened with literally all the work. Even if she liked being pampered, there was being too spoiled. At least, Naniti thought so. Some would disagree.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

Lysander leaned forward, blotting a stray oil droplet with a towel. "It's hardly a skill, just.. a matter of timing." Almost like mastering the saber.. or, well, throwing a strike. "Really, the ingredients deserve the kudos. They were such team players." Accepting compliments had never been his strong suit, but a grateful hum still snuck out. Trust in battlefield instincts meant trusting her palate too, or so the cook thought.

"All that hustle over the shaak.." He clicked his tongue dramatically. "And it's the vegetables that earn the inspection first." Fingers curled around the pan's handle. "I was just aiming for something a little lighter. Shaak's richer than nerf, but not as heavy as bantha. Figured it needed citrus that could shine a little without overpowering everything else." Hopefully it didn't sound like he was showing off. He simply enjoyed letting her in on the process. They'd cooked together often enough that sharing little techniques hardly felt different from breaking down footwork after a spar or passing along little tricks learned in the melee.

If there'd been one consistency between them, it was that they always found themselves working side by side. Even so, there was something appealing about letting her be the guest of honor tonight.

"Are we missing a touch more salt.. or is that me being dramatic? Guide me, Naniti." Truth be told, Holonet cooking shows had claimed a handful of his evenings lately. "I've been learning a few things," he admitted. "So I'm not entirely improvising anymore." The plates were already waiting; he'd never been one to fuss over who did what.

A softer hum bubbled up. Lysander favored the warmth of her mirth over the colder logic of their doctrine. He'd been witness to both. Happiness was a striking shade for the Togruta. "Sometimes I wish everything else were this simple," he admitted. "Lately, it's one of the few times I don't second guess myself."

 

[Naniti]

A soft huff followed Lysander's admonishment. "I'm not using a spoon to taste-test the meat, Lys. I'll enjoy it on a plate where I can tear of a good piece of it." The Togruta poked him again careful to avoid the areas she remembered where injured. She'd gotten some grease on the vegetable.

A soft, contemplative hum followed his culinary explanation concerning the meat. Sounded like a solid strategy. They'd soon find out if it was an effective one as well. "Look forward to finding out." That was more an end statement to her own thoughts, but it fit well with Lysander talking about citrus letting it shine and not being overpowering too.

"I think it's enough, but I am a purist." Naniti paused to grin. When this had all started she'd explained how minimal seasoning (practically none) was what she'd been accustomed to. Salt and maybe a dash of paper was common though. "Too much salt hides the natural flavor." And as she thought about it, salt and citrus could make it a touch tart if overplayed. She wasn't worried. "Just the right amount gives it a fuller taste."

Then Lysander ruminated on the pleasant nature of simplicity and she peered up at him curiously. "Aside from not leaving a battlefield literally crumbling beneath your feet, you've demonstrated good decision making in the past. What has you second guessing yourself?" And, no, she wasn't letting him forget the floating city.

She'd help move the vegetables over to the table since he'd already taken possession of the pan with the meat. No reason they couldn't get everything set up so they could eat and talk at the same time, right?

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

With a wince, Lysander intercepted her finger. Those reflexes honed by hand-to-hand combat still had some life in them. A grin for a grin. Naniti wasn't wrong; they weren't scavengers all huddled up and picking meat off a carcass.

The blonde nudged her shoulder, his mouth not quite a smile. "A purist, are you?" He reached over the pan as if tempted to add a microscopic pinch of spice; but.. he wasn't that stupid. He gauged her reaction with amusement. "You're right, Naniti. Salt's such a.. delicate line. One grain too many and we're drinking the sea; one grain too few and suddenly I'm back to the cardboard ration bars from my Naboo days."

He also caught the evolution of Naniti's comfort in the kitchen since that first shared meal. Something softer in the way she moved. And Lysander found that to be nice. "I like your opinion on it, you know. I like that it matters." The aroma itself made the place feel much more like home. "But.. if we succumb to this purist doctrine, we're just.. eating, Naniti. We aren't creating." Definitely stolen from a Holonet program. "However.. I see your point." The plates were arranged, and before he realized it, a stool was claimed at the island.

Someone had thought ahead; the tea was accounted for, steam curling from the sprout. A blend with more depth, but not too aggressive. The Togruta's cup was poured first, then his own. "I've spent years believing decisiveness was one of my better qualities. Truth be told, I don't think I've been questioning my decisions as much lately as the reasons behind them."

He swirled the cup in his hand, watching the steam thin. "Every campaign just becomes the next one. Does that ever strike you as.. strange? Do you think we're actually building something, or just making sure no one else gets to build it first?"

 

[Naniti]

Naniti snorted when he grabbed her finger. Audacious as ever. Embolden enough to threaten to add a dash of something to the meat as well. She lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes slightly in refusal to give him the pleasure of her loudly protesting; a ghost of a smile touch her lips in the moment.

"You're the only one I want to be creating food with, Lysander. I don't trust anyone else to not make a mess of it." The Togruta chuckled. A little flavor didn't hurt; he'd convinced her there was more than just plain, cooked meat. "I did say I smelt it before I opened the door. I didn't say it made me question my life decisions. I've been looking forward to it this whole time."

As they settled in, she looked up at him with a small smile as he poured a cup of tea.

She looked over the cup at Lysander as he posed a few questions. "I thought that was what we were doing?" Weren't they trying to bring some kind of semblance to the Core? Her tone was inquisitive rather than dismissive. Far as she saw it, they were building something. A Sith Empire of sorts, but built all the same. Well, mostly. The Sith Order had considerable influence and... interest in the Covenant being successful. It would be better if the Covenant stood on its own, or had the Order recognize they weren't a puppet. Whether they saw the Covenant like that didn't matter so much as the closeness made a woman wonder what the rank-and-file thought of the close relations between their leadership.

"Do you think we should be building something else?" What thoughts were on his mind, she wondered.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

Lysander picked up his mug, blowing a cooling breath across the surface. For one accustomed to navigating the Dark, the little ritual had always grounded him. Perhaps it was just his Ukatian upbringing resurfacing.

Listening to Naniti, his fork traced the rim of the dish while his brow knit in a bridge of contemplation. When he looked back to the Togruta, tension around his lips softened. "I've been trying to decide whether this feeling belongs to the Core.. or to me. I keep telling myself it's only exhaustion, even if it's just an easy excuse. But in truth, I think I finally threw in the towel after Humbarine."

Speaking the thought aloud made it impossible to write off as another passing thought. “I've grown rather tired of viewing the Core as a construction project when it should be a.." Searching for the right word, a gentle hum preceded the thought. "Mm.. something living. An evolution, even. It ought to be something that grows by its own design. Constant rebuilding misses the point entirely when we could be cultivating local investment.” ‘Rebuilding’ was such an overly generous euphenism that he should've laughed.

Silver cutlery finally sliced a small piece of shaak. "You should cut me off before the lecture begins," a warm chuckle escaped him. “It would be a tragedy to let my late night philosophy spoil such a lovely dinner.”

Thoughtfully chewing the bite, emerald eyes lifted across the island once more, hunting for a verdict. “At the very least.. tell me the marinade managed to survive this bout of existentialism.”

 

[Naniti]

Naniti stabbed the meat with a fork and started to cut off a slice as Lysander responded. Vegetables for nutrition or whatever, she guessed, but meat was where it was at. A Togruta couldn't live on vegetables alone. Literally. She'd kill a Jedi that believed otherwise that tried starving a woman. Actually, if it came to that, probably best no one ask any pointed questions like 'what happened next?'

She stuck a piece into her mouth and started to chew on it while Lysander chewed on something far less appetizing. Literally not appetizing. Philosophically or emotionally fine, but talk didn't fill one's belly. And, frankly, after all the free smells and teasing about the stove there was one Togruta present that could use a bite.

There was a brief pause and slight wave to her brow when he said he'd thrown in the towel, but she resumed as if nothing had happned after just a second. Metaphorically. On some level. Obviously. Naniti was aware he had plenty of his own designs -- often surrounding corporate interests or proper management of State affairs -- she wasn't always involved in. Sounded pretty serious though if he was thinking things weren't working out.

"It isn't overwhelming and brings out a new tastes in a familiar texture. Actually, its quite moist. Sometimes a little dry meat is good, but it's so much harder to enjoy the experience. What you've prepared is plump and an explosion of flavor."

A moment passed before she added, "I heard about the events on Humbarine. Mandalorians, right? This 'Iron Covenant' that showed up on our doorstep lately. Usual band of idiots claiming to be there for their precious vod. Like five people on a planet gives them any more right to it than we had." It really was remarkable how deluded people made themselves to believe they were in the right. Millions lived on the world? Didn't matter, there were a handful of precious Mandalorians 'suffering' the big, bad Sith and that justified everything.

"You called it a construction project, and constant rebuilding... are you talking about the battle-focused, heavy-handed way they go about conquering worlds?" Naniti looked across at Lysander curious what was gnawing on him.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

Her assessment hit him with a wave of relief. It made all those late Holonet sessions feel worthwhile; most people had no idea just how obsessively he scheduled his life, carving it up into neat blocks of output and outcome. But the solitude rarely bothered him once the payoff arrived and numbers began to align.

He didn’t bother looking up while pinning one of the vegetables on his plate. "A Togruta’s approval is no small thing. I’ll take that as my green light to cook for you again.” Truth was, he'd seize any excuse to wield the spatula for her. It had always kind of been that way. Before dinners, it had been Life Day celebrations.

The piece of roasted root was shoved past his teeth. "You're not wrong." The mouthful muffled the next words. "It's always the same old song, though. The Mandalorians showed up to claim their martyrs after a failed insurgency, and in that little crusade, most of the city was reduced to rubble by our own doing."

His body settled deeper into the chair. "I had a delicate arrangement with a trusted ally on the ground there. I watched the gears turn exactly so, only to watch our work be sidestepped and handed over to some irrelevant Sith Lord with a chip on his shoulder." With a shake of his head he added, "It was a carefully managed vacuum, you could say, a path to stabilize the planetary government that would keep the trade routes open for us. I watched it all disappear in the span of an afternoon. And this? This isn’t the first time. Won’t be the last, either.”

The conversation stalled when he reflected on the Lyrandar Station. Another bitter monument, the symbol of both the beginning and end of something that could've reshaped the sector. "It’s a pattern with them. They steal the fruit before the tree has even finished growing." His knife descended again, carving out a hearty piece of shaak. "I used to think I was helping shape the Covenant. But all I’ve been doing is helping keep it moving. Feels like I'm just prolonging the inevitable. I don't know if I believe in it anymore, Naniti.”

 

[Naniti]

Naniti smiled across at Lysander. Certainly no complaints about him cooking again from where she sat.

A noncommittal grunt followed his description of the Mandalorian crusade. Everyone thought they were super spies. Especially the ones that were anything but. Since when did beskar-wearing barbarians understand subtlety and patience? They kicked in doors and started shooting. All too much in common with the modern Sith approach.

When he started to describe his own machinations that'd been ground under foot on Humbarine, the Togruta's rate of consuming the meat slowed and her blue eyes lifted to attentively listen. As he went on it became clear events hadn't merely gone off-script, but deeply troubled him. As someone that understood the value of proper manipulation of people on the street, Naniti understood.

At last, the Togruta set her utensils down with her eyes on the man across from her. "Believe in what, Lys?" 'It' was a touch nebulous given what the implications could be. And Naniti didn't like peeking at the future when it involved them; it felt like it stole something from the moments they shared. "I don't have many expectations for the Covenant, but that's because I'm not trying to ascend its heights. Everything I do, I do for us. That and figuring out where a Celestial Engine is hiding between moments or folds in space. So, if it's that... I don't want to see you without something to believe in, Lys."

Naniti was fine not having ties to the Sith hierarchy. She always felt like an outsider since the day she was born. But Lysander wasn't like her. He was... pained by the thoughts he'd expressed and more he had yet to reveal. Somehow, over time, she'd come to care about what troubled him; something she couldn't be bothered to fret about when it came to anyone else. So, if there was something she could do...

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

Lysander liked to believe articulation was one of his better qualities. Breaking down a complicated idea and lining up its parts came naturally. Strategy, doctrine, politics; even his own doubts fell into place when he found the right phrase. But sitting here with Naniti, he couldn't get any phrase to stick. After all the time he'd spent working things out alone, it felt almost unfair that he was stuck now. Maybe fumbling right now was the most honest moment.

"The Sith speak of freedom as though it is the answer to every problem. Break the chain. Become powerful enough that no one can ever tell you what to do." Air eased out through his nose in a slow exhale. "I believed that. I still sort of do. No one should live by someone else's permission." His knife hovered over the shaak, just pressing into the meat enough to leave a dent. "But the more I follow the Code, the stranger this 'freedom' looks. They say you can become anything, as long as it's tougher and more brutal than what came before."

Resting the utensil against the plate, a hand drifted upward to rub his forehead. "We break every chain, then spend the rest of our lives proving that we are still Sith. That does not feel like freedom to me anymore." Of course, things were never that simple.

Another sip followed, though the warmth did nothing to pull color back into his youthful features. His eyes stayed fixed upon the liquid rather than the Togruta across from him.

Under all of this was guilt. That he should've said something sooner; with her, vulnerability was an easy gift to give. Lysander had credits, a business, another home; enough waiting beyond the Covenant that leaving could remain a choice. He knew Naniti might not possess the same luxury. She had grown up knowing little beyond the Dark, He couldn't ask her to give up her whole life just because he was starting to doubt his own.

"I don't think growth is always about becoming more. Lately, I think sometimes it means surrendering the very things you were taught made you strong. Letting an old version of yourself die before you even know what's next." The philosophy carried him as far as it could. What waited beneath it was terrifying. "The road I'm on leads nowhere. I've spent years becoming whatever the next campaign demanded, and I…"

His hand eased forward, hovering halfway to hers across the kitchen island. "I don't know. I'm simply done pretending that continuing down the same road will somehow make it mine."

 

[Naniti]

Freedom. It was what the Code claimed they all sought and was within their power to obtain. Every faction needed something to believe in. People needed something to believe in. Otherwise they started questioning what it was all for. Naniti looked across the table at Lysander as he spoke; she watched silently to his movements and his tone atop what was actually said. And questioning certainly fit this moment.

Naniti didn't disagree, strictly speaking, with anything Lysander said. There was no doubt every Master demanded their student to become a crueler, more savage version of their self -- one with a veneer of control to keep the rage bottled up until the time was right (or they simply lost control). Every lesson beaten into made it clear. Every life you were forced to take just to survive.

She'd set her utensils down and waited even when Lysander went silent for a moment.

A slight turn of the head, a slight tilt. The Togruta heard what he'd said. Even extrapolated where it could lead. What it could mean. Implications.

When he reached out with his hand, Naniti knew in that moment what she would have done in any other circumstance. Sat across a table with anyone else saying something like that she'd have grabbed the knife from her dish and... but her hand didn't even hesitate over the discarded blade as she reached forward to take his hand. "Every road we walk is our own, Lysander. Doesn't matter if we allow someone else to influence us -- it's the same road. That's where the freedom is. Not in severing all ties, but in knowing when, where, and how to choose."

"I thought you had a plan for something other than the battlefield, Lys. To shape the Covenant. To set up something underpinning it -- something more than the destruction. What happened? If not that, then what?"

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

The choices she spoke of were lodged in his chest like a sliver of obsidian, sharp enough to draw blood and cut through every excuse he had used to remain where he was. For as long as he could remember, Lysander measured freedom by what someone could refuse; with her touch grounding him, the definition quickly shifted.

Lysander's hand turned beneath Naniti's, his palm opening as his fingers folded around her own.

Beyond their condo, he always had some role to occupy. Prince. Emissary. Instructor. Each with its own rehearsed lexicon. Within these four walls, none of them were particularly useful. Strangely, the confidence that served him everywhere else rarely survived when needing to tell her something capable of changing them. The truth was long overdue. It was possible he just assumed she could read what he never said aloud.

"You know, you're usually right about these things. I get so wrapped up in 'who am I' and 'what do I want' that I forget how much easier it is with you here."

The unfinished meal was pushed aside, clearing space on the island. Both hands closed over hers, cupping the Togruta's knuckles. "I wanted to create something beneath the Covenant, to unify all the Sith under one banner. The Covenant seems determined to remain something nothing can exist beneath. I'm watching my projects collapse because leadership is obsessed with its own whims and personal desires rather than anything sustainable. That ship is already sinking, Naniti. I need to get out before I lose the last piece of myself."

There was also his family to consider. Memories of the Prosperity surfaced. "Success isn't the issue. I know I'm capable of building a kingdom from scratch, Naniti. What I need is someplace steady, where I can protect my family and serve real people instead of someone's selfish goals. Somewhere that won't crumble at the first setback." Lysander's voice softened. "My sister hasn't recovered since we saw her last. She needs stability."

Elevating her hand guided it upward until lips brushed against the curve of her wrist. "I could spend our entire evening dressing this up in high-minded ideals. But what if freedom for me is simply this? Sitting here and trusting the person across from me."

Her gaze pulled him in, and he drowned in that familiar shade of blue. "I've made so many mistakes whenever we've been apart. Maybe I've spent too long trying to reconcile who everyone else expects me to be with who I actually am. What if, for once, I simply told you the person I want to be for you? Would you let me?"

 

[Naniti]

Naniti's eyes widened slightly with Lysander holding her hand between both of his. A shadow of a smile touched her lips at the sensation.

The ship was sinking? Well, she couldn't deny the Covenant was considerably more militaristic and aggressive. The Order was as well, but they also had a stable economy as well. Something Lysander had been striving to correct. And he felt like he needed to get out? Were those around him undercutting his efforts?

His family? Naniti blinked, not quite sure where the turn in conversation had come from. He'd tried to kill his sister. She was a reminder of everything that came before. An anchor that could distract him... And who were the 'real' people he spoke about? She did her best to smile, but Naniti wasn't the galaxy's best spy or greatest con artist. The Togruta's concern leaked through in her expression.

Blue eyes fell to her hand as he kissed it. It would be best if they just sat there. Together. She worried where the conversation was heaed. She'd already known, but it seemed certain now, and it wasn't where Naniti had expected it to ever go. A smile graced her lips as their eyes met.

Despite what he said, Lysander ended with a question more personal to them rather than with interstellar implications. It helped make it a choice rather than something to evade by nearly any circumstance. She just hoped one wasn't wrapped in the other. "Why wouldn't I, Lys? You know I've only wanted you to be yourself. The times we've spent together. What you've shown me. What we've lived. Haven't you felt comfortable enough to be yourself?" It hadn't been an act, after all. That Naniti was certain of. If she were wrong it would be far worse than talking of the Covenant as a sinking ship.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

That last question cut deeper than all the talk of the Covenant. Leaning forward, the blonde's shoulders dropped. He'd never doubted her acceptance before, but the Togruta's expression stirred a worry he just couldn't quite ignore. Anger might've been easier. That smile only left him wondering. Was she concealing something for his sake? Of everything she could have misunderstood, this was the one thing he needed to make clear.

Regret surfaced when he realized how uncertain his words must have sounded. "I'm sorry." The apology barely cleared his throat. "I have a habit of making simple things more complicated than they need to be, don't I?"

"I have always been myself with you. More than I've ever been with anyone else. Nothing we've shared was an act." The admission came more softly.

The waltz on Jutrand, the hunt on Stewjon, countless shared meals from the Core to the Outer Rim; none of it had ever been rehearsed. From their time on Desevro, the trust between them had evolved naturally. "You've seen the parts I don't know what to do with in other rooms. The way I deflect a compliment before it lands. The way I'll claim I'm fine until you point somewhere specific. The way I'll sit with a datapad in front of me and not read a word on it for half an hour. I couldn't have faked any of that if I tried.."

"But being real with you did not always mean I was honest enough." Saying it aloud left a small ache behind. A few seconds passed before he trusted himself to continue. "There were things I kept inside because I didn't know what they meant yet. But I should have said something sooner, when I first began losing faith in the Covenant, instead of waiting until it sounded like I had already packed everything into boxes and was halfway out the door."

Lysander slowly folded her fingers inward and enclosed them carefully. He wet his lips, buying himself another moment. "I'm afraid of losing you, Naniti. More than I'm afraid of losing the Covenant, the titles, or anything I've ever built beneath them."

 

[Naniti]

Naniti was glad to hear Lysander said he was honest. In their world, it didn't hurt to hear that. She'd long ago accepted the remote chance he was simply that good an actor because everything had just been so perfect. So outrageous. What kind of Sith enjoyed themselves at parties or on a skating rink? A sled ride through the snow? Absurd. She couldn't help but smile brightly in spite of everything he'd said up to that point.

She reached out with her other hand and stroked his as he held the other one. "Is it just the Covenant you've lost faith in?" Her blue eyes slid aside for a moment. "You and I have spent a lot of effort building something here, but nothing is more important to me than you, Lys. There are plenty of people like us that aren't occupying the halls of power in the Covenant, the Order, or anywhere else in the galaxy."

"We can make a place for ourselves anywhere we want, long as we're ready. But, Lys," Naniti gazed into his eyes, "the harder the challenge, the more we need to communicate. You know that's why I poke you all the time." Well, and who didn't like to win? Or claim victory anyway. "So I understand." Of course, if what Lysander was saying was more than just the Covenant... if he was suggesting turning away from the Dark altogether... well, Naniti was trying not to think of it, but found it impossible not to recognize this conversation could go 'there.'

Lysander von Ascania