Private Haven in the Desert [Gunnr]

[Darth Carnifex]

Hyperspace, the Crestfallen​

The cabin was spacious, well-accustomed to people larger than the average humanoid. The floor was elegantly carpeted, not too obnoxious but just enough to be noticeable. On either side of the cabin were countertops fitted with all sorts of electronic devices, such as plenty of caf machines. The far wall was dominated by a large viewport, the reinforced glasteel tinted crimson red. Beyond was the swirling maelstrom of hyperspace, a kaleidoscope of blues and cyans spinning around and around endlessly. A view frequently enjoyed by the nomads and wayfarers of the galaxy, whom plied the hyperlanes moving from one system to the next with no fixed home.

In a way, it was what had become of His people. Once they were proud, noble, with a storied history passed down for over ten thousand years. All that they were had been transcribed on stone in the holy city of Qocia, immortalized in litanies recited by the tattooed priests of Nereus, Nussyn, and Neaos. Now all that they were was ash, their people scattered in a vast diaspora. Their homeworld was broken, betrayed by those that had sworn to protect them. In their agony, they looked to the one man who had remained true to His word, who had always kept true to their ways even when the crown of Emperor had once adorned His brow.

The Epicanthix looked to Kaine Zambrano, and He shepherded them to a new future.

"We should be arriving shortly, pi'sazi." The words of the Dark Lord were soft, a velvety whisper, as His lips brushed against those of another. His hands held tight to her hips, occasionally pulling against the fabric as she straddled His waist. They were both entangled in one of the large chairs placed in the cabin for the convenience of the occupants, of which they were the only two. It was rare these days when they could afford a moment of privacy, His duties taking Him far abreast of Malsheem while hers kept her confined to the world-craft. But He had insisted that she accompany Him on this journey, to briefly put aside the responsibilities of Seneschal and bear witness to the fruits of His labor.

Almost a second later, the Crestfallen reverted from hyperspace above a world tinged beige by its many deserts. The sparkling lights of cities could be seen dotting its surface at irregular intervals, the briefest glimmer of civilization on an otherwise barren world. The Dark Lord pulled His beloved to His side so they could both look out the viewport, the distant world growing larger and larger with each passing moment. "It does not look like much, I know. But I can assure you, it will be a haven for our people. Until the restoration."

Sabarene loomed beneath them, and the Crestfallen dipped below the clouds on approach to a city ringed by canals beneath flat-topped structures as tall as any Imperial walker. Large starships could be seen parked beyond the city's outskirts, but these were not warships. They were colonial vessels, capable of carrying tens of thousands across the stars to seed worlds with life. Today, they brought the dispersed people of Panatha to Sabarene's surface. There had been a minor Epicanthix presence on Sabarene before this, but nothing like what was coming. The Dark Lord declared that Sabarene was to be a haven for His people, and through His power He set aside all prior governing bodies and established Himself as the supreme authority.

Even from here, the evidence of the Epicanthix settlers was apparent. They had adapted quickly to the harsh environment of Sabarene, the adversity of their homeworld having prepared them for the unforgiving desert. Many had adopted the clothing traditions of those who had settled Sabarene before them, but still maintained the distinct flair of their culture. Many watched the dark ship pass overhead, their arms extended high as though reaching for the passing vessel, for they knew that such a ship could signify only one thing.

Their savior had come again.

The Crestfallen sat down on a landing pad jutting out from the city walls, one that was swept with sand. Inside, Koe was preparing Himself and His beloved for travel on Sabarene. She showed her how to properly dress herself to withstand the sand and wind, to protect her face, and where to conceal weapons. Frequently He stole several kisses as He instructed her, an affection that was believed to be an impossibility. He maintained that perception well, as He retained His stoic and cold personality as they both walked out from the shuttle and into the heat of Sabarene.

"Well, Gunnr, welcome to Sabarene."

Gunnr Zambrano ​

 

[Gunnr Zambrano]

The sensation of luxury which pervaded her life was a layer of weak electricity shocking her skin. Pretence for the Emperor and Dark Lord's Bride meant staff were meticulous and behaved, or decraniated when she preferred the silence of a diligently working machine around her. Still, the luxury shocked her. It pulled her in, the comforts and foods which never seemed to become obscured by familiarity. What was her childhood, if these comforts were celebrated after all these years? A life of confrontations, one where all semblance of peace was a hard won and respected battle. This day, the confrontation was in the stricken faces of her, their, People. Families with less, members incinerated for being too strong.

For being mighty amongst the dross, and thus feared. For their loyalty to the Zambrano House and the Diyad of Dark Lords who presided over it.

One scant memory of her vastly absent father filtered into her mind, they were in a desert. His feet clad with strips of cloth over a warrior's boots. Amidst the ruins of a defeated planet, he spoke of battles and thunder raining down from the cold bastion of space. Those who promised safety inevitably betrayed that promise for their own desires, the moment the scales swung. The mighty brought low, a reminder all with power eventually lose it, but those with conviction rise. "You cannot kill an idea…"

Kaine Zambrano did not shepherd their beloved Epicanthix alone. The work, however daunting, came without struggle to Gunnr Zambrano, muscle memory informed her natural proclivities to what survivors, and refugees needed. Another blessed flash of knowledge from a life she refused to investigate. Who had the time to linger on their inner workings, when Malsheem required a Seneschal's constant hand to ensure the Will of her husband and their Uncle was committed exactly as it was brought forth? But while Malsheem's duties raged, Gunnr worked on the plans and necessary technological implications of terraforming Panatha. Floral samples for cloning and seed had to be scoured from the Galaxy, stolen or raided from gardens, research facilities, or requested from Epicanthix diaspora on a variety of worlds. Fauna was far less available, her cloning teams worked to find what little biological matter they could to ensure as many of the native species as possible were returned upon successful terraforming.

Terraforming came with its' own struggles of damage and grace.

"Shall I lament the passage, or celebrate seeing how we can continue helping the people, love? Maybe a bit of both?" The tormented of one generation become the oppressors of another, perhaps in a way it brought thoughts of cyclical damage to the Queen as she slipped her lips against his, legs on either side of his lap. She slid to the side when beckoned, his shoulder becoming the perch for her brow. Gunnr kissed the fabric of his robes there, sought his perilous eyes. Her hand stroked his jaw, allowed a tenderness others knew was forfeit in the presence of his dominance. But alone, she and her Koe could be.

Sabarene. Ahani warned her of this place, and the healer-son who presided in it. The hermit Jedi Master closed to all but the warbling rambles of his half-sister Raya, or the scant others who knew of his nine century existence. "Give me a month with it, my love. I will see it changed as need be. None of this allowing nature to take its' course as the Jetii ascribes."

If Sabarene was to be the new home of the Epicanthix, Gunnr would see it become an Eden in her hands. Sand would drift between her fingers and impregnate the ground with green. Moss, grasses, fruit trees and land to hunt for their prey. To keep the spirit of their People alive. As they prepared to land, Gunnr drifted off her husband's lap only after a few loose and joyful cooes. They necked and tempted at each other's flesh, the comforts of unguarded affection denied all others in the intimacy of their moments. Her hands never left a portion of his skin, a flicker of it here, there. With others, Gunnr was perilous, quick to viciously protecting both her power and her presence in the eyes of all who might consider her compassion a weakness.

With Koe, she felt no such compulsion to prove a dashed thing. Dressed in the robes befitting the desert, shoulder to her husband's, Gunnr stood equally stoic for yet another reason. The scores of people. Unsettled, displaced and wary people.

Epicanthix all. The Eye of Solomon had not forgotten nor abandoned them, and while she kept tight reign over her outward emotions, the Empress-Consort and Seneschal inwardly wept. Too strong to die, their people. One day their pains would become a pristine chorus upon the Galaxy, but not this day. Not yet.

Now, the Sith must heal the wounded, and bring their people back to their strength.

"It's… warmer than I expected. Potentially a bit mired, unless that is a mirage?" Gunnr nodded to a figure draped in white in the distance. Standing atop one of the glorious domes, with a legion of Echani behind him, was Manu Xextos , arms tucked in his sleeves. While weapons remained affixed on the legion's backs, vibro-staves all, in their hands held baskets, water casks, and other supplies from across the Sanctuary City of Abha.

Manu waited in silence, his force-bound mind wrapped around the planet, yet the Epicanthix immunity to mentalism meant the Master knew little of the empathic imprints of these new denizens. Still, he waited, and Gunnr stared at him, then to the throngs of people who collected around the Crestfallen to worship and celebrate their saviour in equal measure to the hunger in their eyes for home.

Darth Carnifex

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Carnifex's eyes spied the white-robed figure almost immediately, even through the haze of the desert sun. When last they had met they fought along the Sith Temple of Ossus, the Dark Lord casting the Jedi Master down its sloping façade amidst fire and chaos. In the years that followed, neither had crossed paths. The Dark Lord was free to pursue His own ambitions without Manu's interference, with the Jedi's own mother standing strong by His side. It was only because of Ahani's intervention that the Dark Lord kept His hand from reaching out through the stars and swiping away this errant flickering light. Few could restrain such darkness.

"They will not interfere, they know that they have no power over us." His gaze held on Manu's for a few seconds longer before Carnifex looked to His people. Their people. They had come to Him, putting everything they were doing on hold to greet their savior. As the Dark Lord came into view, the harsh Sabarenese sun illuminating Him beneath the canopy of the shuttle, their voices rose up to fill the air.

"Sozeal!" "Sozeal!" "Sozeal!"

Savior.

Their adulation was etched onto their faces, young and old alike. The youth had known nothing but the benevolent rule of their God-King, raised on stories of His miraculous rebirth; Nereus the Father given flesh. The elder generations knew a time from before Kaine Zambrano came to Panatha and restored the Solomonic line to the throne, the fire and bloodshed of those chaotic days. But where blood had seeded the earth and fire had scorched it clean, renewal had come. Panatha had known no greater era of prosperity other than those passed down through the oral traditions, the ancient glories of Canthar, Magnus, and Solomon just to name a few.

Both shouted the name of their savior, their hands outstretched as though to touch the hem of His robe. They were too far away to do so, but that did not dissuade them. Carnifex, with Gunnr's hand interlaced with His own, walked forward to the edge of the landing platform. Out stretched a growing sea of faces and hands, all pointed towards Him. He raised His hand, the same locked with Gunnr's, into the air, and the crowd erupted into a chorus of cheers and prayers.

"Mi'niansi," and then a second later, "Mi'vuesklim." He switched to Basic to continue speaking, "Arduous has been our suffering, and long shall be our journey through the valley of sorrow. But together, we shall overcome all adversity. We are the Epicanthix, we are chosen to seize the sun! Those that seek our destruction will find their cradles desolate, their sacred places torn down, and their people in chains. One iniquity shall be met with a thousand, our vengeance manifested a thousand fold."

Gunnr Zambrano ​

 

[Gunnr Zambrano]

Manu's eyes locked with Gunnr's, silver and raucous as the seas. His mother's eyes, but keen without the insanity which plagued their wife's for so long.

"No, I wonder." There was something about the man, a lingering sensation. Familiar, but as distant as Sabarene from Bastion. She watched the way he shifted his shoulder, the ease of his stance, fluctuation of his fingers between a fist and open palm. Raya. Raya moved like her half-brother, the more Gunnr watched through the crowd, the more she saw a further influence of the Echani man on the wide-eyed mystic birthed of her husband's familial connection. While her husband's confidence was as well founded as every inch of power he possessed, it was her unique place to ensure any potential gaps were filled by her vigilance. What sort of conversation could she or anyone have with Raya, to ensure some nefarious Jetiise training hadn't gotten through?

For all the crowd's shouts and screams of joy, Gunnr knew her whispers would not be erased by the throng.

Each shout imprinted on Gunnr's mind, coated the milimetres of her flesh with an armour no opponent could remove. The belief in her husband's agency, in his ability to save them, the gratitude for their Sozeal infilled his Bride. His Will, and her implementations, the combination was as heady as what she imagined glitterstim felt for an addict, before the addiction became double-edged. Fingers coiled in Kaine's, Gunnr kept her face stoic but kind, mighty but compassionate. A stern jaw and open eyes, slight upturn to lips meant to succour without the gawdy waves of the smaller humanoids. Those who postured and destroyed when their fears overwhelmed. Banthas knew their place, or stampeded.

As their hands raised, Gunnr thrust hers up in tandem, timed with her husband's lead.

The prayers were an overwhelming and heady delight. Gunnr felt them feed into her soul, burrow in a place none could wrest. Belief, pure in its desperation, would power even grander things. The sands called to her feet, aquifers down in the bowels of the world, precious but present, called to Gunnr's inner reach. Darth Carnifex roused the crowd, with words of power, the call to justice and revenge the people needed to make sense of their agonies and their damnations. Each word entered and lingered in her chest, hope to destroyed and hungry people. Sometimes the truth of the sword was the hope long asked for. Sometimes the promised fight was the only beauty left.

The cheers of the crowd burst across kilometres of the planet, tamed wildlife and became a spirit in and of itself upon the restless sands.

"Our Children!" Gunnr waited for the cheers to almost fade, waited for her husband's words to conclude before she spoke. "Vengeance is nigh. All whose lives acted in cowardice and fear will lose what hold on life they currently possess. And while your Sozeal commits to the x'chath's destruction, so will we seek your rejuvenation. Sabarene shall become the garden necessary to feed and strengthen our children and elders for the times ahead. No mean destruction can conquer the unconquerable faith of the Epicanthix! No betrayals can end our purpose and our souls.

We are the chosen people. We are eternal and we will never stop. Our grandchildren will speak of their saviours, their grandparents' tooth and claw, the stalwart nature of our spirits cannot be shattered. Only set aside, weakened…

But we will not allow us to remain in scarcity and weakness! We will not abandon the quiver in each belly, the sun upon the brow. While your Saviour metes out vengeance, I shall prove to you the grace of the chosen, those who worship and obey, is as sweet as honeyed wine, or pure, cool water."

The ground began to rumble at the edge of the crowd, sand shifted and became condensed, density rising as Gunnr rose her free hand. The aquifers sang to her, as did the seeds scattered by a brief moment of harmless telekinesis. What was the collection of enough moisture from the layers of sand to one, who had the faith of the Epicanthix attached to her fingers? Gunnr's head tilted, she gripped her Koe's hand and behind the crowd, sprouts began to burst with green and grey beyond them. Under the sand, the sprouts dug for the aquifers, reached downward, downward. Upward to the height of the average knee, waist. Coiled and uncoiled into adolescent branches, tangles of strengthened bark and wood. Foliage burst, wide leaves to shield from the sun.

Gunnr's hand shook, not from effort but joy. The powers which were bred in her from generations of Fitz-Kierkes given their best implementation: a return to life. Shade against the beating sun. Some of the crowd began to notice, to swerve and turn, they sought their Saviour, their God-King for an answer.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Behold!" Bellowed Carnifex, free hand outstretched towards the rapidly growing oasis sprouting up from beneath the sands. "A miracle! Bear witness to that power that graces our people, the chosen children that grasp the sun. Not even the desert can stifle our seed of life, the energy that we carry from our blessed motherworld. Watch as it germinates beneath the sands, water drawn from deep below the earth. This is but the first miracle, for there will assuredly be many others." If Carnifex was their savior, their shepherd, then Gunnr was the mother of miracles. New chants grew from the crowd, intermingled with that of Sozeal.

They called for their Maduil.

Mother.

"Though we carve an existence out of this world by necessity, it is a temporary affliction. Soon, this world will kneel to our indomitable spirit." A great chorus of agreement swelled up from the crowd, the words plucking at their spiritual heartstrings and their yearning to again be masters of their destiny. "But never forget our motherworld, we will one day return to her bosom. By the grace of the three, that is my solemn vow to you, my children."

Inevitably, the cheers and prayers would subside as the festive mood shifted, the Epicanthix people slowly returning to their labor as the spectacle of Carnifex and Gunnr's arrival wore off. Then it was just them, surrounded by a small cadre of Crownguard, entering the city through one of its mighty gates on a hover palanquin. A silk veil had been drawn up around them, to not only shield them from the heat and the sand, but also to preserve their privacy.

Carnifex traced a finger along the nape of Gunnr's neck. "You were wonderful, pi'sazi. Your have come a long way." A long way since the Hell-Wolf was what His lips wanted to say, but He held His tongue. That past was better left dead and buried, a relic of a bygone era not worth recording. She was a new woman, a better woman, one freed from that cursed armor and the weaklings that held her back. Sure, some of them have wormed their way back into her life, but Carnifex watched them carefully.

He would not permit regression, not after all He had done.

After all they had been through.

"I had preparations made for us, you will not be left wanting while on Sabarene."

Gunnr Zambrano ​

 

[Gunnr Zambrano]

Sozeal! Sozeal! …. Maduil.
Maduil! Sozeal!

The Mother let her eyes drift shut, a strange sensation to walk in sun so bright and still see every iota of the crowd closed as the sun continued to beat down on her eyelids. Gunnr's lips parted, face aglow with the light on olive skin, as she tempered the space around them, brought bounty to the acrid, untameable land. The crowd's awe and rush of praise filtered into her ears. Emboldened and empowered by the collective worship brought forth by her God-Destroyer, her lover most vile. Most adored.

She gasped soft, the release of her powers a small thing upon the dour hive of Malsheem, or a show of combative magnetism to keep those courtiers or climbers in their places. This, on a dying spit of a desert world, a planet teeming with what life the heat could possess, this place was invigorating in a way an artificial planet could not. She felt the soul of it, the beat and rhythm to its' song, and with a flick of her wrist: Twisted. This place, this one grove would be green and luscious and life-bringing as long as Maduil and her God-King Sozeal remained. Beauty and control, was this not a mother's business? To guide and unleash? Tend and release? The People would feel this love, and once that love made them strong once more, they would stand behind the Holy Couple while the vengeance sought found its' harvest.

Manu stared at Gunnr, bored his silver gaze at the God-King as his head tilted slowly to the side.

Life, or the creation of it was never something the Echani Master expected from one so close to the decrepit Butcher King. He saw the way Gunnr's fingers wove between her Koemi's, as wave upon wave of power fluctuated along the air, tempered into the sands of the desert until the plant life grew to mature and abundantly budded fruit trees.

Gunnr said nothing, for Darth Carnifex 's words were perfect. It served none for her to add another voice to his, when hers would be but repetition. Her words were in the trees, which gave them shade. The fruits which would burst from their buds in weeks or pleasant season. The children's laughter as their parents returned to their tasks, and they played among the fronds, feet in sand which no longer burned within the oasis' shade. She nodded to and blessed those who dared enter their space, watched with a Queenly nod as the Epicanthix in their turn bowed or curtseyed and shifted to their business. A breeze swept the cloth of her garments, the breath of the oasis' life on the wind. While she required no assistance to rise into a palanquin, Gunnr allowed Koe's hand to guide her.

"And I have my brilliant Master to thank for that wonder." Affection was, after all, a limited resource as of late. Her fingers drifted along the silk, and in the luxurious but confined space Gunnr reclined. Her smile came easy, when he played at her neck. Gunnr moaned with a loose chuckle, spirit giddy from the use of power so little explored but for her gardens.

"I have this… faint recollection as a little girl, planting sunflowers in a destroyed place. It must have been outside Qocia, remember the little villages, which caught fire that one summer? Ah! You probably don't. It's of no matter. I felt… connected to the plant life, the search for water and the peace of their slim hive…" The Little Hell-Wolf, Ward of Ra Viszla, indeed planted sunflowers in the remains of Mandalore after the volcanic cataclysm and nuclear strike. While the Civil War broke across the survivors. "… Malsheem is a paradise, love, but the sensation is… different somehow, on a natural planet than one by our will and design."

She towed his neck closer to hers, a peek of ginger hair untangling across her cheek, and one hand on the back of his head, kissed him. Bodies within the space of a moment's beat, Gunnr held fast. The shadows of the past flickered, casts of light which lingered only when those who knew her stared longingly for a woman best left in her grave.

"Oh, you intend to care for all my needs? Well! I will be all astonishment if any of the displaced receive more than a glance of our time." Gunnr smirked and nudged him with her shoulder, one hand slid inside the fabric of his collar. "I trust those preparations came with appropriate space for two thrones? A little inner court in case of need? To give our People a sense of continuity. Also curtains. I hope you thought of curtains. It is.... unconscionably bright. I don't know why the brightness hurts my eyes, so."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"I was not there when it happened, but I remember visiting those same villages in my youth. I do believe I saw some of your flowers, at least, I like to think they were yours." Of course, this could not be so, as she had not done anything of the sort when she was a little girl. Those memories were twisted, warped, so different from those that had once resided within her brain. It was for her own good, Carnifex reckoned, to spare her of the past that should not have been hers. This was her life now, the memories He had given her were what she deserved over the nightmare of her previous life.

Trust me.

His declaration came unbidden to His mind, those same words that He'd given to Gunnr in her earlier life. Before His blade carved out more of her stomach, before those bullets slammed into her back. Before He watched the light diminish in her eyes, and the world became naught but fire. Mandalore burned, the Mandalorian people burned, the Empire of Ra burned, but Gunnr drowned. Those priests of Ithor, their wicked ways keeping her trapped beneath the clear waters. She needed the darkened waters, that which sprung up from beneath the graveyard of Dromund Kaas and the water which leaked eagerly from His opened veins.

He gave her that water, quenched her thirst with it. Saved her from the drowning priests, scattered them upon the clear waters until they were murky. He took her, carefully, and brought her to paradise. But now that paradise was only a memory, and hardship stood before His people. His mind was burdened though His face was passive, revealing nothing. But that wouldn't save Him from Gunnr's intuition, she always seemed to know His mood when no other could.

His hands slipped into hers, squeezing them reassuringly. "Everything has been made ready for us, pi'sazi. Our people will come to us and see us united, and they will know that they are neither abandoned nor forgotten. Our people are stronger than any in the galaxy."

Their palanquin pulled up to the palace, which rose up like a great pillar from the center of the city. Pushing aside the silk veil, Carnifex emerged with Gunnr in hand as Crownguard moved to flank them. Then they walked up the sun-bleached steps and into the palace, which was significantly cooler than the outside terrace. Banners had been hung from the cool stone walls, displaying the Eye of Solomon alongside various symbols that were considered significant on Panatha. Horned lions, winged serpents, swords, spears, geometric personifications of the Three.

Ahead was the throne room, which, as Gunnr had hoped, contained two thrones set side-by-side. The chamber was large enough to house hundreds of people at any given time, a great enough audience to await the Sozeal and Maduil.

"It pales in comparison to the palace in Canthar, with the jungle to one side and the ocean on the other. But it will suffice, I hope."

Gunnr Zambrano ​

 

[Gunnr Zambrano]

"They were in front of the Palace… no, not a palace, um, Grandfather's estate beside the Temple. Ah.." Gunnr's brow furrowed slightly, eyes shutting as if to attempt to clarify the image, to remember the sunflowers and their delights. Strong building, rubble being cleaned by armoured figures, no, caped figures. "I keep seeing the Palace, little bits of soil brought in for my sunflowers by citizens who were helping in the reconstruction. People in House Fitz-Kierke helping a child do her part to make our world a better one. It was sweet, I knew with every flower my family was with me, the planet hung on a little girl's flowers. At least in my mind. Gosh, the pride, love! I could do anything in those days, my father wasn't close, but… Papa Girak, I remember him so fondly, weighted by the times. Maybe the sunflowers were to help him feel better. Although I'd been researching their radioactive absorption properties at the time. My notes. Mother said she found them after you and I were married… although I suppose now all those childhood relics are gone. Destroyed with Panatha. It doesn't matter."

She opened her eyes and sighed, wrapped her fingers in his hand. "It's only a memory."

Trust me.

Intrinsic and bold, Gunnr felt the timbre of her husband's spirit as it washed around them, an infernal and contaminating presence for any who could not see the man in him. The presence, Dark as the vacuum, perilous and impervious was an entity of its own. As mighty as his desires to conquer and bind the universe within the realms of his majesty. Yet, in the black and red eyes, in the cold passive expression, Gunnr saw her Koemi. She smiled softly, a sleek crinkle of her eyelids as she scanned along the cloth he wore. Mirrored cloth upon her body, a loving sacrament.

"You're going distant. They hurt you, by harming our People, but we know those who are strong are here… oh no. That's not it, is it? Not all of it. We haven't had time to ourselves much, since..." She dared stroke his cheek, where others would be snapped apart, for this cheek was hers to touch in their private moments. "Koe?"

His body laid so still in the months prior, before Pom's ritual to restrengthen their shared Beloved. Face graven, lips pale and barely parted. Eyes sunken. The illumination of Raya's powers the only light source necessary within her private chambers. The innermost sanctum of their lives. He'd left her with his vulnerability, as she left him with her life. To say her husband was honest with her was a child's fantasy. He was frank, he confided, but there were many mysteries she knew were not for her to touch. She accepted the emptinesses as she accepted the man, laid beside him with her strength, her soul wound around his to keep him from fading too far while three of their children fought in an endless cyclical war for his life.

Weakness did not become him, but she would hold it in her chest as a secret from all others, until so much time was spent with her husband returned to his strength, the vulnerability was a gift only known to her, to Prazutis, to their sons.

"My childhood was idyllic. Tough, strengthening as it should have been, not an easy passage with unearned gifts, but who lives valiantly with so plush a life? No, struggle is part of courage, and I learned plenty with our familial hunts and expectations. Firm within my family's love, I knew I could conquer everything. The life befitting of your Bride. Since my siblings found us, I keep looking back at my past and finding the beauty in it. The gardens, the battles, riding on my parents' shoulders. Growing in the temples. Everything a Panathan noble would have wanted. As idyllic as a dream." Her eyes cast to the silk of the palankeen, Sabareen's heat radiated to her skin through the cloth, while the moisture-sapping environment made her words feel more crisp on her lips. Skorvek's words, while Koemi was at his weakest returned, he would show her if she asked it of him. Show her the truth of her death, of her life. Gunnr smiled, while her eyes remained cast down. She brought Koemi's hand to her lips and kissed the back of his palm. Set his fingers to her cheek. "Thank you."

"While you were asleep, Skorvek asked me if I wanted to know the circumstances of my death. He said knowing would hurt, that you brought me back from terrible things, but... it was my life. I... declined. I declined, love. My childhood is perfect. My life is here, our paths you and I, they were destined to this. Whether that was your control over destiny or the Force itself?" It was enough. By now, he would have known the lengths those like Skorvek, and Stardust took to bring some semblance of Yasha back to his Bride. And there she was, firm beside him with the beautiful fiction in her mind.

"My love, thank you. I will always trust you." Another kiss on the backs of his fingers, eyes the colour of emeralds firm on his face. "Together we will give the Epicanthix a renaissance. You're right, they will come to this… wayward home, and strangely I feel a sense of comfort knowing the Echani diaspora share this planet. For all his faults, Manu is already set to handle refugees by their millions. Why not use the man's resources before expending our own? Or to extend ours? The lonely Light-bound son, so detached from the Galaxy he knows only Sabarene. No Jedi will come form him, none know the man exists. His disconnection is our strength, our hidden place is ours."

Connection. Something so intrinsic, yet detached from most Sith's experiences without a corresponding spoil or dominance and crawling submission. While Gunnr respected the Diyad of Darth Prazutis and Carnifex with every iota of her being, understood the connection between Uncle and Nephew, she felt the uniqueness of the bond between Groom and Bride. "We rebuild. It is what we do. Every time we do so, we have the chance to improve our people, improve their protection and their ferocity. They can destroy monuments and planets, but they cannot ruin us. We are eternal, you and I. And those who serve us will share that immortality through their blessed generations."

Her nose nuzzled his before the silk parted, and once they stepped into the sun, she felt the sweltering heat. The dry smack of how it sapped at mortal strength. Thank Nussyn the Palace itself was cooled by layers of rock and hidden technology. Among the images strewn about, below the Eye of Solomon was the crest of House Fitz-Kierke. Gunnr began to see familiar faces, people from her grandfather's fleet helping others, priests of the Three wearing faded, worn or damaged Fitz-Kierke colours. Good. Let them come.

The light which spilled into the throne room, muted as it was by cloth, gave stark contrast to the twin thrones at the end of the massive hall. Not as grand, but welcome. Gunnr's lips twisted in another smile, the vault of the ceiling, the heat risen above their body height, she almost imagined another such throne room perhaps with a flight pad to the side. A city of sky scraping buildings reaching beyond the sky. Rebuilt. For one second, she saw herself walk toward a single throne, weighted by some pressure upon her body. Head swathed in metal. The image faded, in its place the altar of the Temple of Nussyn. She clutched Koemi's hand all the harder.

"It's perfect. An ascension to something more grand can wait until we return ourselves to our beloved planet, or build our People an appropriate alternative. Our people will love us more for seeing the austerity we assume, and the plenty we share." They walked toward the thrones, Gunnr felt her shoulders settle, those watching would see their Mother, their Saviour. The stability of the Zambrano House would be their salvation. "Yes, it will suffice pi sezi."

Darth Carnifex

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Yes, it shall be austerity."

The faith that they enamored in their people would be all the more strengthened by their shared adversity, the self-flagellation of exile and vagrancy in foreign lands. But how quickly they adapted, how swiftly their people settled into these new lands. Where others might have lamented their circumstances, the Epicanthix were not inclined to self-pity. They showed their resilience by the manner of their actions hence their flight from Panatha. And even here, on scorching Sabarene, the Epicanthix found succor where others would only see desolation and despair.

There were other worlds as well, worlds that He'd surveyed as suitable hosts for His people in the interim until their return. Some were more like Panatha, others were of vastly different environments. Oceans, plains, mountains, deserts, tundras, and even volcanic badlands. No matter the land, the Epicanthix adapted and not only survived, but thrived. Here on Sabarene it would be no different, they would carve out a foothold in this arid land and bend it to serve them.

He would help them, the power of the Dark Side would help them. He would make them dependent on the Dark Side, so that they would never stray from its comforting shadow. This dependency would be His alone to control, and never again would His people think to turn away from the Zambranos.

"But this is only the beginning, I have a surprise to show you."

He took Gunnr's hand and led her from the throne room, moving further into the palace's winding corridors and brilliant chambers. He brought her to a garden, one enclosed on all sides by the wider palace, but with a clear opening to the air. The opening was partially covered by silk, primarily so that the light could still filter down to the garden below, but the glare and heat of the sun would be mitigated. Already several gardeners were working on cultivating budding plants, each one transplanted from Panatha and carefully bred to adapt to their new environment. Even the flora of Panatha was as resilient as its native people.

"What do you think, pi'sazi?"

Gunnr Zambrano ​