Private Doctor's Orders

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: En route to Republic Space from Moorja
Tags: Corazona von Ascania

Aurelian woke to the indignity of being wheeled. "I am the King," he snapped, voice sharp despite the dull ache in his skull. "Do not put me in an occupied room."

The medical staff did not even slow down. One of them muttered something about capacity and triage. Another adjusted the scanner hovering near his head as if he were luggage. He glared at the ceiling while they rolled him through the crowded ward. Moorja had net the Republic a lot of injured peasants.

"I am not sharing space," he tried again, less regal this time, more irritated. "Find someone less important." No reaction. Of course. They parked him behind a privacy curtain and left like they were escaping a small fire.

Aurelian sat there, seething, pressing two fingers lightly against the swelling at his temple. It pulsed in protest. Knocked out. Kicked unconscious like some tavern drunk. This will never be spoken of again.

A faint sound came from the other side of the curtain. Movement. Breathing. He froze. No. He yanked the curtain aside. Of course.

Cora.

Aurelian stared at her like the universe had personally betrayed him. "No. No, absolutely not." He pointed toward the hall. "No no no!"

No one came back. He let the curtain fall halfway, then dragged a hand down his face before climbing into the bed with far less grace than he would have preferred. The mattress dipped as he settled in, adjusting his coat like he had chosen this arrangement.

Silence stretched for a moment. He glanced sideways at her. "What happened to you?" he asked, tone finally leveling out.

​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

When Aurelian pulled the curtain back with a rush, he'd find Cora sitting up. Her movement stilled, arms locked in place as they braced the bed behind her. She'd been on the verge of trying to rise.

No no no!

Cora swallowed. It took her a few dumbfounded moments to find her voice first, then her personality.

"Please," she croaked. "It's not as though I'm in active labor."

She eyed Aurelian clinically as he seemed to give in to this unpleasant predicament. The King of Naboo didn't fall while depositing himself onto the bed. Good.

Cora had already tried to climb out of her own bed twice - insisting that she was well enough to assist with triage - thereby creating more work for the already overworked medial staff as they escorted the wounded, shambling Jedi back to her room.

Perhaps they'd thought that pairing them in the same room would keep the snippy royals occupied.

"I was enjoying the quiet," she mumbled. A pause. It took a few long moments for her to think back to what had happened.

"That mountain of a woman broke some of my ribs. Then her…tendril…? was around my neck."

There was a decent anesthetic flowing through her IV, but it didn't dull the pain completely. Cora collapsed back onto the mattress with a huff.

"While protecting you, I might add. With Gavin Restur . He's fine, by the way. Not that you asked.”

Now, she mirrored his sideways glance and squinted. “How’s your head?”

Aurelian Veruna