Private Dear Lysander ('Letters')

[Sophelia Ardemark]

The comms message was a holo of a hand-written letter with very neatly scrawled script. Sometimes it felt more real to write something using an ancient technique, rather than quickly typed. It felt more real. More personal.

Dear Lysander von Ascania ,

You don't know me. Why would you? I imagine it must be easy to plot behind closed doors and within the protective shell of Sith Covenant blockades, ships, and armor. Worlds corrupted by the dark. Was it easy for you to spur the sith into slaughtering the refugees of my people? Of the Tapani? While I hold no love for House Calipsa or House Mecetti, I do hold love for civilians. For those trying to live. How did it feel to hunt down mothers? Fathers? Children?

I don't expect an answer from you.

I just wanted you to know about the hurt and pain left in the Covenant's wake. That there will be consequences. Maybe not from me. Maybe nothing you will see or experience in the next few weeks, months, years. But there will be one day.

Maybe you will rejoice at these words. At the pain you've caused me and thousands of others. I don't know. I can only write and let you know that your actions and those of your Covenant have not gone unnoticed. Or forgotten.

With much regret,
Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Sophelia Ardemark​

Dear Lady Ardemark,

Your letter reached me. I’ve read it over a few times now. You’re right. We’re basically strangers, though I can at least appreciate someone being so upfront. Not many people are that brave. But don't mistake my writing back for some cheap attempt to salve my conscience or sidestep the fallout. I’m not interested in playing that game.

Back then, I never thought of Tapani as someone's home, even if it wasn’t my plan. I only thought of it as a campaign. Trying to dress that up in fancy justifications now would be insulting to both of us. Maybe “failure of imagination” is the kindest label I can slap on my actions. I saw people as obstacles, pieces to be cleared away, not mothers or fathers or frightened children. I cared about victory, not what it cost.

I suspect you have more to say. So, say it. What does justice actually look like to you? Because I can tell you’ve got a clear picture of it.

You wrote about what was destroyed. Paint me a picture of your life before the Covenant’s shadow fell.

-- Lysander von Ascania

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

Mister Ascania,

I suspect we will disagree on a great many things. Though, I am surprised you wrote back at all. You wrote 'you cared about victory, not what it cost.' Is that easy to say when it didn't involve someone you cared for? Someone you love? The ends justifying the means is seductive precisely because it makes cruelty seem reasonable. It's an easy way out.

And do not dare direct me.

I am perfectly capable of saying what I want to say when I want to say it, as you now know. Do you think you have the privilege of hearing what my home was like before the Covenant came?

You do not.

But perhaps the dead deserve to be honored. To be remembered somewhere where they are forgotten everywhere else.

Our halls were filled with music more often than silence. On some winter evenings the entire household crowded around the fire because tradition demanded it, regardless of how unnecessary it was. The salt was always on the air. My mother entertained visiting houses with impossible grace, and my father never returned from council without bringing some absurd story that made the entire household laugh despite themselves. I knew every corridor of our estate, every tree in the orchards, every family who had served ours for generations.

I believed those things permanent.

That is the privilege of children.

The ends justifying the means does not simply kill people. It erases futures that have not yet had the chance to exist. You marched through a campaign. We buried neighbors.

You asked what justice looks like. It is not vengeance. If it were, this correspondence would have ended with my first message.

Justice begins with truth. Not because truth repairs what was broken, but because nothing worthy can be built atop comfortable lies. You have taken a step in that direction by refusing to excuse yourself. Whether you continue walking it is yours alone to decide.

Justice also requires remembrance. The dead deserve more than to become statistics in military archives or inconvenient footnotes beneath someone's victory. They deserve to be spoken of as people whose lives mattered before history reduced them to casualties.

Do you see Tapanai as someone's home now?

Regretfully,
Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Sophelia Ardemark​

Lady Ardemark,

You strike hard. Allow me to return the courtesy.

And you're right about one thing. We'll disagree often. That's fine with me. In fact, that’s probably the more honest place to start. I wouldn't expect you to blunt it for a Sith's comfort. You speak of privilege. Distance was a privilege. Command is a privilege. Seeing your home as a campaign instead of a home was a privilege. I played every single card offered to me. But you shouldn't confuse it with apathy. I never once rejoiced at your losses. I never considered them, either.

Fair enough on the occupational hazard, then. Let’s keep it that way.

Going in blind was never the plan. As always, every step was a choice. Obviously, morality is your battlefield, whereas strategy is mine; those are two very different arenas, are they not?

Your memories are vivid. Music in the halls, winter gatherings, stories, the orchard paths you knew by heart. Well, I don’t doubt any of it. But, I also know memories can be curated. It is highly possible you’giving me the version of Tapani that proves your point.. not the one that existed in full.

I’ve spent a long time thinking about the nature of change. We tend to view destruction as the opposite of creation, but I believe they are far closer than we admit. I don't have a clean answer for why the path had to lead through your front door. What if I told you it was only the opening move to plans already unfolding in the Core at that time?

Futures are theoretical until lived, and theory.. well, it is easily destroyed. I don't believe justice is a straight road. And it doesn't heal as so many seem to believe. Comfortable lies are dangerous, but uncomfortable truths can be just as selective. Remembrance is necessary; I find it harder. The galaxy forgets names and faces far too quickly. Refusing to excuse my actions isn't a gesture of growth, of course; perhaps it's simply a refusal to let the entire moral landscape be defined by your worldview alone. Over time, I've grown rather tired of others thinking they could outline it for me.

So, here is another question: had the war never reached your doorstep, who would you have become?

Or has the Republic already decided that for you?

-- Lysander von Ascania

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

Mister Ascania,

I do strike hard.

Not because I enjoy it, but because I have found that gentleness is often mistaken for concession. There is a peculiar comfort afforded to those who move pieces across a board. Even when they recognize every piece as a living soul, they are still spared from becoming one. The board ends where the map ends. Home does not.

You call morality my battlefield and strategy yours. I disagree.

Strategy is merely morality viewed from a greater altitude. Every campaign is an ethical statement written in logistics. Every objective declares which lives may be spent and which must be preserved. You did not leave morality behind when you chose strategy. You simply accepted different arithmetic.

You accuse me of curating my memories. Or not giving you the full picture. Perhaps I did.

Memory is not an archive. It is a wound that heals into a scar, and scars always distort the shape of what was.

No, Tapani was never only music and orchards. It was pride. Vanity. Ancient rivalries polished until they resembled tradition. Houses that mistook bloodlines for virtue. Everyone is flawed. You. Me. But flawed things are still worth mourning.

History is full of brilliant plans that required someone else's home to become their opening sentence. So no, it would not comfort me to hear that about Tapani. My home. But if you wanted to make me more sad, then congratulations. It seems you're full of strategic wins then and today.

You speak of destruction and creation as neighbors. I will begrudgingly agree with you. Forests burn so new growth may arise. However, nature does not congratulate itself for the fire, nor does it ask the trees to admire the elegance of the blaze while they are still burning.

There is wisdom in recognizing destruction's place. There is danger in becoming enamored with it. Are you there? Are you enamored with 'winning' on that strategic board that you're willing to sacrifice anything? Anyone? Do you fear that you will lose yourself one day or perhaps you already have?

Are you...happy?

Had the war never reached my doorstep...

Maybe I would've become someone quietly unremarkable. Perhaps I still will. There is a quiet grief in admitting that I will never know her. Only who I am now remains.

Do I seem like the type of person that will let someone else decide for me? How insulting of you. The High Republic was a safe place to land. It offered me causes. It did not choose whether I would answer them.

You did not choose who I became either. Neither of you possess that much power. The difference is that one asked for my loyalty. The other demanded my survival. That distinction matters to me.

Regretfully,
Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Sophelia Ardemark
​

Lady Ardemark,

Noted. Though I'd say gentleness being mistaken for concession says more about the people doing the mistaking than about gentleness itself. Something to consider, mayhaps?

You’ve got a sharp pen. I'll give you that. It’s rare that anyone manages to slice through the usual moralizing I get thrown at me, but you’ve managed to dissect my own arguments better than most. So, let’s take this apart, shall we?

On strategy and morality being the same thing at different altitudes.. honestly, yes. I shall not argue the core of it. Where I'd complicate it is this: altitude doesn't just change the view. It changes what you're able to hear. The arithmetic doesn't get crueler up there. Personally, I find that it gets quieter. And I’m not convinced quieter is better.

The scar line is the best thing you've written me. I'm keeping it.

Flawed things being worth mourning: agreed, without reservation.

But let’s look at your trees. You resent the fire, and you’re right to, as it cost you your home. But here is where we hit a wall: you’re framing the Covenant’s expansion as a choice, or as a mistake. You see it as a blaze that needs an apology.

I saw it as a paradigm shift.

Okay. I’m not done with the trees. But your argument assumes the only two positions available are the blaze and the burning tree. You're writing letters. That's a third position, yea? I'm not asking you to call any of it 'elegant'. I'm just asking what you want to do with the fact that we're still talking.

This took a sharp turn from philosophy to something more personal, did it not? I'll make a modest attempt to answer.. though, I won't promise it's a good one.

Enamored with winning? Yes. Guilty as charged. For a long time I would have sacrificed just about anything to get there. Well, with one exception. You don't need to know what that is. But outside of that? Fair game.

Fear of losing myself? I lost myself the day I left home. That ship has sailed. What you're looking at now is whatever came after. Happy? That's a harder one. I'm not miserable. I'm not sure those are the same planet. I know, that sounds like a dodge.

Now, about your grief. Look, I get the pain of never knowing who you might have been. Truly. But I don’t think that means you’re automatically someone who lets another decide her fate. Sure, the Republic may have been a safe landing, but safety isn’t power. Be real. You answered calls because you chose to. I never demanded your survival; in fact, I’d argue you were given a choice on a dying world.

Here’s something to think on. If ‘peace’ ever returned, would you even know what to do with it?

Until then,
Lysander von Ascania

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

Mister Ascania,

You are fond of turning statements into questions. It is a clever habit. Questions make a person feel invited, even while they are being guided somewhere they did not intend to go. It took a sharp turn to personal? You received a letter from me because it was personal. It is personal.

I am not saying gentleness is wrong. The irony of you saying that is not lost on me. You had no gentleness with Tapani or the people who tried to flee only to be slaughtered. Yet here we are. Writing to each other. Or is gentleness here only afforded to me due to distance? Or perhaps you're just showing me a temporary courtesy rather than gentleness.

Regardless, don't expect a thank you.

You say you lost yourself the day you left home. You speak of losing yourself as though it were an event. Something finished. Something behind you.

I wonder if it is not still happening. Every time a city becomes a campaign, or a home becomes a paradigm. Perhaps losing oneself is not a single departure. Perhaps it is a habit. A habit has turned into your identity?

And you're correct. You did not demand my survival. I did that on my own. Would you be happier if I had been just another body left behind in the dirt? At least then, you would not have gotten these letters. Would not have had to condescend to my level.

You ask whether I would know what to do if 'peace' returned.

No.

Not at first.

I'm not afraid of 'peace.' I would be afraid of losing it, again. To re-learn that happiness doesn't have to be temporary. To experience what stability felt like, again. That, perhaps, is the difference between us. You ask whether I would know how to live without war.

I wonder whether you know how to live without purpose borrowed from it.

Regretfully,
Sophelia Ardemark

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Sophelia Ardemark
​

Lady Ardemark,

If you think I’m twisting your words, you forget you answered every question I threw at you. You’re clearly as invested in this exchange as I am. Ive always found that the most interesting conclusions are discovery based rather than lecture based. So, you’re right, of course, the letter is personal. But isn't everything we choose to engage with, in its own way, a reflection of where we’re currently standing?

Maybe you’re right. From afar it’s easier to be kind, and I admit I’ve been kinder on holos than I ever would be face to face. Courtesy isn’t something I just dole out to look good. If you doubt my sincerity now, well.. that’s on you, not on some imaginary ‘temporary’ civility I’m faking.

You want me to confess I’m defined by war? That I can’t see past campaign lines? Perhaps you’re the one trapped in the idea that people never change. Habits can shift with a single choice, too, I suppose.

I mean, in a cold, tactical sense, sure? I’d have fewer letters to read and fewer questions to answer.

I'd sit with the word "again" for a second. It’s like you’re already writing the ending. Before peace has even arrived, you're pre-grieving it. Let me find out you wouldn’t let yourself have peace in the first place. That's a different problem. (One the Covenant didn't give you.)

As far as stability goes, that's not an unreasonable thing to want. I'd be a poorer emissary and an even worse person if I told you it was.

But, stop using ‘again’ like there's an original version of yourself waiting somewhere that all of this can be returned to. Obviously that one is gone, no?

That's a fair challenge. I won't pretend I haven't asked myself the same thing on longer nights. Not the worst thing anyone's ever said to me either. No, I don't believe war is just the current shape. Purpose borrowed from conflict isn't unique to me. I don't think you're exempt from it either, for what it's worth. With that said, you shouldn't be surprised I'm going to turn this around now. You've spent long enough living in opposition to what happened to you. What are you, Sophelia, when there's nothing left to survive?

P.S. You lie poorly.

Until then,
Lysander von Ascania

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

Mister Ascania,

You say I answered every question you asked. Of course I did. I wanted to know what sort of man would answer them in return. I still have not decided.
You accuse me of believing people never change. No. I believe people change constantly.

I simply question whether change is improvement merely because we prefer the direction it travels. You have become more reflective than the man who had a hand in Tapani. That much is obvious.

Whether you have become better remains an entirely different question.

You make light of my death. Tactically speaking, fewer letters. Fewer questions. That was almost funny. It is strange what passes for humor between people who have survived enough killing. Do you agree?

Funny how you think you can order me around on the word 'again.' Let me mourn the girl I can never go back to. Just. Let me mourn. Can you relate to sadness? To grief? Probably not.

P.S.
How dare you. Let's get one thing clear. If we share any common ground it's this. I will never lie to you.

Regretfully,
Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Sophelia Ardemark​

Lady Ardemark,

Fair enough. I have been making my own assessments. Neither of us is working with complete information, and I think we both know it. That’s the game, isn’t it?

I’ve heard it's possible. Though, I’ve never seen it with my own eyes. Men who were monsters one day, penitent the next. But penitence doesn’t erase the past.

A wise question. I’ve asked myself the same thing. Does regret make me better, or just softer? I’m not even sure I know the answer. But then, I find that improvement is subjective. To some, survival can be enough. For others, it's never enough.

Reflective? Yes. I’ve had time. Too much of it, some might say. And reflection has a way of removing parts that don’t fit anymore. Whether that makes me better.. well, that’s not for me to decide, is it? I’ll admitt that’s a word that doesn’t sit as easily with me. Better for whom? What if some people just become better at hiding it?

It could simply be that I have an unfortunate sense of comedy. I'd rather continue arguing with you in letters than attend another funeral. Selfish, I know. Besides, even as a Sith, I find the alternatives less entertaining. Brooding is quite exhausting. Some people pray. Some people drink. Spend enough time in death's company and maybe you'll stop treating it like a stranger.

You are right. I overstepped. Mourn her as long as you need to. If I might add anything, it would be this.. don't let the smoke blind you when the next conflict arrives.

A rare promise in a world that thrives on deception. I find I am surprisingly inclined to hold you to it. Then tell me, what do you see in the words we’ve shared?

Until then,
Lysander von Ascania

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

Mister Ascania,

You ask what I see in the words we've shared.

A man who answers questions with better questions. It is infuriating. Also someone who speaks in the past tense for how they behaved during the horrors visited to Pelagia. Leading me to believe you might not act the same were that set of circumstances be revisited. On another world. To another people. Maybe something I'll never see in my lifetime. And maybe I am entirely wrong and your phrasing has sent me down the Rishi maze.

You insist that neither of us has complete information. That is true. We are each trying to reconstruct a person from fragments, as though enough careful guesses might one day resemble the whole. I wonder whether we are studying each other or merely studying ourselves through unfamiliar company.

You speak of monsters who become penitent. I have met the opposite often enough. Good men who convinced themselves that necessity excused every compromise until there was nothing recognizable left beneath the armor.

You said that reflection removes the parts that no longer fit. Is it wrong to admit that my mind has wandered back to this through a sleepless night? We like to imagine we carve away our worst qualities. I have found it just as common for people to carve away the parts that made them human because they hurt too much to carry. What pieces have you kept?

I find it hard to swallow the idea of death becoming less than a stranger. We can agree to disagree here. Is that truly how you feel? You've spent enough time around it...Mister Ascania. There is a terrible efficiency to grief when it repeats itself. One learns precisely where to stand, precisely what to say, precisely how long to remain before everyone pretends life has resumed. Perhaps death is not a stranger to me anymore but it will never be a friend.

You said you would hold me to my promise not to lie. Please do. Truth is rarely kind, but I have always preferred it to comfort. I will hold you to that as well.

Tell me something, when you say you have become reflective, what is it you find yourself looking at?

Regretfully,
Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Sophelia Ardemark​

Sometimes I ask questions because I believe them sharper than any statement. Other times it’s just how I figure out if we’re even on the same page. My wording isn’t always straightforward. I'm aware. If it leads you astray, maybe that really is on me. And if I speak in past tense, that’s because the Tapani campaign, for me, is finished. You’re free to close the book anytime?

It’s true that I shouldn’t pry so much. You’ve already told me I ask too many questions; maybe I should stop trying to read between the lines here and just accept things as they are.

You’re right to be skeptical, Sophelia. Tis a fair instinct to doubt the man who stood on the other side of the massacre. Though, I find it infuriating that my entire existence seems to be defined by a few weeks. I do understand why you cling to this narrative. But it also ignores the complexities of the Order I serve. Do you find some sense of ‘morbid comfort’ in painting me as the villain in this? You want to know if I’d burn another world? I didn’t do it for sport.

We’re all capable of horrors. It isn’t always spirituality or guilt that changes us. On the notion of monsters, what if necessity is just an excuse? That would make morality conditional. There are many I believe who were never ‘good’ men. They were just fortunate until chaos discovered them.

I do believe introspection sheds the weights we no longer need. It's easy to betray oneself when the heart becomes too heavy. I wouldn't say you're wrong, many hard thoughts never sleep. Hopefully they're giving your further insight, if anything. I’ve had to let go of the luxury of softer edges, and yes, sometimes I wonder if I’ve pared away too much of the foundation. I’ve also kept the ability to see the galaxy as it actually is, not as I want it to be.

Death for many is a final mystery. In my line of work, it’s a constant, and after long enough, it simply dulls the shock. I don’t claim to welcome it so freely as many of my brethren, but I refuse to fear it..

Are you fishing for sentiment now? I spend less time defending my choices than I once did. More time asking why I made them. More so of people than the battlefields. The family I abandoned. My sister especially. Her child, who knows nothing of my true nature. Friends I failed. Enemies I never actually understood. Surely there’s more.

I hope that answers your question, Sophelia. And, perhaps, I hope it is enough, as I suspect this will be the last letter we exchange.

In any event, I wish you well in your endeavors in the Mid Rim, or wherever the Fates guide you next.

-- Lysander von Ascania

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

Lysander von Ascania

Mister Ascania,

I was there, that day. In the courtroom. So was my family. I've no doubt it was not comfortable for you. For reasons very different from my own. Can you imagine how painful it was for us? Did you know that I sat next to Corazona von Ascania and held her hand? We both had wounds on our flesh from your bedmates. I am writing this to you a day after. I heard you disappeared.

Running away from responsibility? From accountability?

That's not why I'm writing this. I wanted you to know I made a promise to myself after I left that courtroom. This is the last day I will think about you. At all. Don't write me back.

Sincerely,

Sophelia Ardemark.