Private Facing the Music [Throneworld]

[Srina Talon]

LOCATION: Throneworld
TAG: Mercy | Lysander von Ascania

"Have you all that you need?"

The question was posed softly, as for several days after the trial, both Lysander and Astra remained on Jutrand. It was one of the few places in the galaxy that was as dangerous as it was safe. The Blackwall had swallowed their trail, but Srina trusted the Republic about as far as she could throw a senate building with her bare hands. Someone would likely try to do the stupid thing…

But they would not get past her.

The other reason she kept them behind was for the sake of Lysander himself.

He could protest all he wished but short of a kaggath…He was effectively grounded. Srina had watched him suffer a particular form of mental displacement, a loss of self, that imprisonment and having strangers judge him had likely amplified. Some might have walked away from the experience untouched, but the young Sith Knight was not "some" in the traditional sense. He wasn't as bloodthirsty as some nor as kind as others—But he felt his own uncertainty, internal place, like a sledgehammer.

Srina was more than aware that there were wounds words could not soothe and bacta could not find.

So…The wintry woman gave ordered a few days of rest. She offered them food, access to the Holo-Net, clothing, and anything else they might have needed but immediate freedom. Her suggestion had been to think of it as "taking a few days off" versus being twice-kidnapped, even though she wasn't inherently opposed to the idea. If it made them feel better, that is. She offered company when they wanted it and space when they did not. She did not demand that Lysander explain himself. Instead, she just remained within reach.

There if required, absent when not.

One thing she had noticed, rather curiously, was that the substantial food supply in the palace had taken an extreme hit in the luxury department. Tea and chocolate were suspiciously running low, but there was no way two extra people could reasonably exhaust the enormous stores she received from the Commonwealth.

Astra Sadow would likely be more than glad to return to the galaxy on her own terms, but Lysander von Ascania was not so lucky. Jutrand might have been one "home" for him, but he had another to answer to that wasn't quite as forgiving. Mercy had known that Srina intended to attend the Republic trial, and she had known when the pale woman returned to Jutrand with Lysander and Astra in her keeping. The following days had included enough communication between the two Empresses that Srina had developed a very clear impression of precisely how well Mercy was handling the situation.

Which was to say…Less than ideal.

Traveling commonly gave her a lot of time to think. Both about Lysander, the coming war, and everything that entailed. About her nephew who was still caught in the web of hypocrisy the Jedi perpetuated. There was quite the distance between Jutrand and Coruscant, and she advised, during this time, that Lysander meditate or focus on his studies.

Training always cleared her mind, and she had taken that into account, offering to spar hand-to- hand. No one needed a breach into space because some ability had punched a hole in the hull of her favorite star destroyer.

When they finally arrived to Throneworld, the woman exuded nothing but the cold and quiet tranquility she was known for. With Lysander on one side and a protocol droid on the other, they entered the floating monstrosity rather easily. Srina was a familiar face in these halls, and the Graspborn working wouldn't even normally pay her any mind…Were it not for the basket the droid was carrying. It was warm and smelled heavily of roasted meat (possibly burned), rich spices, and something sweet enough (burned too, diabolical) to cling to the air.

They were either curious or offended.

Srina paid them no mind because, unlike everyone else in the galaxy, save Quinn Varanin Varanin and possibly Arris Windrun , Mercy seemed to enjoy her cooking and devoured it instantly. Was it a bribe? Yes. If asked directly, she would admit as such, but for the moment led him toward where Mercy would be that time of day. Likely, waiting on her throne.

<<We are here, Sestra.>>

As if she needed to be told. Her silvery head rose while they walked through grand doors and headed toward the Titan. Srina walked as if there was nothing to fear, because there wasn't, no matter the expression her battle-sister wore. "I have something that belongs to you…"

Then—She gestured toward the basket the droid held, as if the woman couldn't smell what was inside. "…And dinner. I'm assuming you're hungry?"

It was a performative question. Mercy was always hungry.

Srina moved toward the throne and leaned up, because even sitting, the Covenant Sith lord was still taller, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead in greeting. The Echani was entirely unbothered by whatever murderous thoughts she may or may not have sensed and took a seat that someone had brought in for her. It was almost automatic now, assuming that the wintry Empress intended to stay. "The war preparations for Thyferra are nearly complete."

"But…The Dark Council would like to take the lead. I've allowed it…Within reason."

Which meant that Srina was perfectly content to stand by and let her children have the glory. She would support them from the background unless something went wrong, in which she was required to step in—Because it was the only way they would learn.

She wouldn't be around forever.

 

[Mercy]

Srina Talon Lysander von Ascania

It was tough to truly gauge Mercy's emotions, mainly because she herself wasn't sure how to feel about all of it.

Jakku had been a fucking mess.

What should have been a milk run turned into something entirely else. They had managed to destroy the Enclave (the self-destruct mechanism put aside), but Mercy had lost her apprentice to the High Republic and the Jedi. Yet in that moment... it had almost felt like Lysander attacked her, rather than the Jedi.

She had known his love for his family was his weakness, but she had not assumed it would go that far.

And the more time passed... the more Mercy stewed in the possibilities. She had told Naniti that they would not move against the High Republic to seize Lysander back from them. Mainly... because Srina had told her that she'd personally go to observe the proceedings. And the Empress of the Order was much better suited for subtle and stealthy approaches.

If Mercy had tried to sit in the audience, they would have spotted her before she could draw even a single breath.

And if Lysander wanted to be set free... then he'd come with Srina.

That's how it was supposed to be.

Naniti hadn't been happy about it... but you didn't argue with the Covenant Lord. Not if you wanted to keep your head, when she was all the way in her feels anyway.

So that is how Srina and Lysander would find her. The Titan on the Throne, her chin resting on her hand, with amber eyes taking them in quietly. While Mercy might have been silent... her presence in the Force was not. That was a change from how Lysander had felt her before. She was no longer the silent predator with the Force balled inside of her.

Now... it rolled off of her in steady waves, like a heart beat, pouring out the tar-stained ocean waves of the Dark Side into the room. Flooding it with her fury, hunger, desire... and wild joy to see her son come back to her.

Even if she didn't show it on her face.

Srina moved toward the throne and leaned up, because even sitting, the Covenant Sith lord was still taller, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead in greeting.

Her hand gently stroked Srina's jaw, kissing her cheek in return.

"I am always hungry." Mercy responded, confirming her very thought, the two of them in sync even outside battle. "Thyferra... you know, the Covenant was supposed to take the battle to the High Republic..." She squinted at that thought, wondering what the fuck Arris Windrun was doing when it came to that.

The cyborg had asked her to take the lead on them, but so far she hadn't seen any movement. Unless Arris had secretly invaded the High Republic and beaten it from the inside without telling anyone.

That would be so like her.

"But…The Dark Council would like to take the lead. I've allowed it…Within reason."

"You give them too much liberty, darling... but as you say." Her attention shifted to Lysander as her sestra sat down in the placed chair next to the Titan's Throne.

"You made quite the fuss over there in the Republic." Mercy had wanted to be calm about it. But instead her voice thundered out, oppressively coming down on Lysander's shoulder and head... the same sort of force that made Naniti drop down on her knees in front of her.

"And you broke my heart on Jakku. Attacking your parent... what do you have to say for yourself, Lysander... Von Ascania?"

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Srina Talon Mercy​

Jutrand unfolded more gently than expected. Under that pleasant momentum was one persistent undercurrent.. the inevitable return to Throneworld. Avoidance wasn't exactly the intention anymore; years of doing just that had already taken their toll on him. Jutrand's palace offered space for reckoning, but the burden never lightened..

Passing into Throneworld's airspace constricted one's breath in a way that was difficult to name. Rumors from the uneasy period after Humbarine offered no real preparation. For all he'd heard of Throneworld, this would be the first time seeing it for himself. Neglect had been its own kind of armor back then, a way to look away from uncomfortable truths.. but distance could only stretch so far.

Trailing Srina through those vast halls meant staying half a step behind; her presence made everything feel less like trespassing, though. For now, the eye could look without apology.

Observation grounded Lysander to the exchange of affection before him. But for him, a swallow traced down the line of his throat; that was perhaps the only visible concession to the young Sith's disciplined composure. After all, he'd been the Point Emissary at one point. And now.. there were two Empresses watching him. To avert his gaze would have read as avoidance, surely. So, Lysander met the Echani's eyes.

Pressure began advancing across the chamber in tidal intervals. The sensation was akin to an unseen palm against the nape of Lysander’s neck. The strain was further felt through vertebrae and downward. Mercy occupied the space with the density of storm; every pulse of the Dark Side rattled his eardrums.

“Cora is my sister whether I carry the name now or not. And you’re my family, Mercy, whether I share your blood or not. I spent too long believing one of those truths had to destroy the other. I was trying to protect my sister, back then. That is.. the simplest way to say it.. and perhaps the least complete. My hand moved to intercept before I had decided whether that was wise.”

Thumb and forefinger moved over his wrists. Again, he rubbed at the marks left by the Force-dampened binders. The skin had healed.. but the memories had not. “I spent a long time thinking freedom was always about getting more.. enough strength that no one could ever tell me where I belonged again. Turns out there's another kind.."

Liberation through loss.

The darkness swept over him again; his chin tilted. "You know, every time they ripped another piece away, I figured I'd feel smaller or something. But honestly? I just felt lighter. Because for the first time I could actually see what was still there underneath everything.. and it was still me. I've been torn in half since Humbarine. Part of me still trying to reach that person I was supposed to be. The other part just searching for a way out."

Everything else remained muddied. One final truth surfaced. “I am only Lysander now. The other name died somewhere between Jakku and Naboo."