Private Holiday Spirit

[Corazona von Ascania]

This year, Life Day wasn't happening in earnest on Ukatis.

With Axilla in ruin and families torn apart, holding the traditional feast would be impossible. Even many of those in the countryside, though out of range of the Mandalorian assault, weren't entirely unaffected. The agrarian provinces worked tirelessly to reallocate their winter food stores, some stretched thin as they fed refugees who'd fled the capital.

Still, pinpricks of light shone through the dark clouds cast over the little planet.

A woman traded days worth of rations for a hair ribbon to gift to her daughter. In another camp, three men returned from the forest with a single pheasant they had managed to hunt. A megar Life Day dinner scattered between multiple families.

Cora had been weaving back and forth between Ukatis and Coruscant ever since the attack. While technically in exile on her home planet, the public didn't know that and the crown had much bigger problems to worry about.

Only a few days had passed after her knighting when she approached Albrecht's door. Though they were from the same world and held similar stations, Cora had never made an effort to get to know her fellow countryman.

It was more out of hesitance and respect for their cultural norms than disinterest. Young men and women from nobles houses only mingled under the presence of a chaperone, but that only seemed to apply to them and not the off-worlders they chose to interact with.

In her hands was a traditional Ukatian fruitcake, or rather, her interpretation of one. Aside from the fact that she'd never baked a thing in her life until now, a few key ingredients had been impossible to find.

It was bad. Burned, hard as a rock, yet somehow greasy.

But it was the thought that counted, right?

Squaring her shoulders, she rapped her knuckles against Albrecht's door.

Albrecht

 

[Albrecht]

There was a little chapel in the Ukatian style not too far from the Jedi Temple. Albrecht had attended the morning service, then returned to his dorm. His roommate wasn’t there, having gone out to celebrate with his friends, so he had the whole place to himself. These days, he found himself enjoying the solitude rather than feeling alone.

That is, until there was a knock at the door. “Did you forget your keycard again?” he called irritably, automatically assuming it was his idiot roommate returning to get something.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The irritation in Albrecht's tone surprised her, so Cora didn't speak for a few long seconds. She cleared her throat.

"It's Corazona." She called.

Cora looked down to the sad excuse for a fruit cake in her hands, then back up at the door. Hopefully it looked worse than it tasted.

Albrecht

 

[Albrecht]

"It's Corazona."

Albrecht stiffened. What was she doing here? What could she possibly want from him? They had barely spoken to each other. In fact, he had tried to avoid her. Once it became apparent that she was the source of all the negative stereotypes about Ukatians he had been dealing with ever since he joined the Order, it had seemed prudent to stay as far away from her and her ilk as possible.

But now she was here… alone, his senses told him. It was considered improper for young men and women to meet under such circumstances, but he found that he wasn’t all that surprised. He hadn’t been able to maintain that custom as well here either, though he did what he could. Most female Jedi barely counted as women in his eyes anyway, so it was easier to justify hanging around with the likes of Eloise.

Finally he got up from his chair, putting aside his book. “Just a moment.” He made his way over to the door and slid it open. Immediately his nose was assaulted by the smell of burnt dough. Suppressing a wince, his eyes flicked from the charred fruitcake to the earnest face of the girl holding it.

“I did not expect you,” he said. His accent was thicker than hers, his Ws almost morphing into Vs, but he still spoke with the prim and proper received pronunciation only a Ukatian boarding school could provide. “Why are you here?”

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora too suppressed a wince. His accent was thick, in a way that reminded her of her grandfather.

Interacting with others nobles was like a reflex for her. An automatic process. So why did she suddenly find it so hard to talk to Albrecht? Why had neither of them ever really talked to one another before?

"I brought you this." With both hands, she extended the charred mess towards him. "It's…it was supposed to be a fruitcake. The kind we eat at home. You don't have to eat it, though."

Cora was uncertain how the gesture would be received, but she swallowed down her nerves and put on a pleasant facade.

Albrecht

 

[Albrecht]

Albrecht sensed her suppressed wince, the negative reaction like a blip in the Force. Why she reacted that way, he didn’t know, but it bothered him. He was already self-conscious enough, though he had been trying not to care too much about what other people thought.

The boy knew what the fruitcake meant, though the custom was less common in Quitaine. He had been hoping she would have a better reason for coming there. If there was some business to attend to, rather than just a social call, it would have been easier for them both.

Albrecht reached out to take the cake, then hesitated. He didn’t have to accept this. It would be polite to take it anyway, but he didn’t have to be polite either. “No thank you,” he said, taking a step backwards and letting his hand hover near the door control, ready to close it in her face at a moment’s notice.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Oh."

With wide eyes, Cora looked visibly taken aback. She glanced from Albrecht, down to the mess of a confection in her hands, and suddenly felt quite embarrassed. Of course he wouldn't actually want something like this. Maybe she'd overestimated how polite he was willing to be, or underestimated how much of an insult it was to hand him a burnt cake.

I knew I should have just gone to a bakery instead.

Albrecht didn't seem like he wanted her around. Before he could retreat entirely, Cora interjected.

"May I ask why?"

Albrecht

 

[Albrecht]

"May I ask why?"

This was the moment Albrecht had been waiting for. He had fantasized countless times about what he might say if he had the opportunity to confront her, most of them far worse than impolite. His loathing for Corazona had reached nearly obsessive levels at times, especially in the wake of particularly stinging wounds. The invasion of Ukatis had him wrapped up in relief efforts, and perhaps he may have forgotten about her for good. But now here she was, standing on his doorstep, looking so very stupid with her greasy, blackened fruit cake.

Why did he hate her? He didn’t even know where to begin. There was so much anger in him, so much vitriol, that for a moment he was afraid. The Jedi warned against such feelings, and even the knightly orders of Ukatis preached against such a hot-blooded lack of control. He ought to not say anything. Let his silence be an answer.

"Ever a radiant soul, Coco. I am... so very proud, to see you become a greater knight than any Ukatian has been in a long time. Congratulations, old friend."

Well, according to her friends, a Ukatian knight was nothing compared to Cora. And according to Albrecht's friend, if you have something to say, you ought to say it.

“Because,” he began. “Because no one here really knows me, and yet because of what happened to you they all assume I’m a monster. Because everyone loves you and acts like you’re perfect, the poor little rich girl, an innocent victim, and nobody ever questions or criticizes anything you do. Because even though you’re a traitorous whore who slept with a Sith Lord while your fellow Jedi were imprisoned, tortured, and slaughtered, they still knighted you.”

Having uttered all that in nearly a single breath, he stopped to inhale, then exhaled a sigh. “Because that cake is burned beyond recognition, and yet you still tried to give it to me.”

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora had never been sure where she'd stood with Albrecht. The boy seemed relatively quiet, and while he'd never approached her, she hadn't made the effort to get to know him.

An uncomfortable silence lingered between them, one that made Cora regret pushing a little. Quiet as things were, Albrecht's anger could be felt as it swelled in the Force.

What came next was like a blast of cold water. One filled with sharp rocks and shards of ice that cut her from all angles. Smothering feelings and unpleasant thoughts was a Ukatian virtue, and Cora might've been impressed if she hadn't been in utter shock at the vitriol that poured from his mouth. She had no idea that Albrecht was struggling to fit in, and that he'd held so much contempt and disdain for her.

"I-I didn't…realize that…"

Her mouth was suddenly dry, her voice straining around the lump in her throat. She hadn't considered how the fallout from her poor marriage would affect those around her, beyond those who she'd been closest to. Some members of the NJO were not fond of Ukatis and their ancient traditions, and though Cora didn't like it, she'd been cast in the role of victim. But she hadn't been hated simply for where she'd come from.

Traitorous whore.

Cora's nails bit into either side of the cake where she held it. Charred dough collected beneath her finely manicured nails. How had Albrecht known what had happened on Thule? Only Valery, Kahlil, Makko and Shan knew the details of her capture. Maybe rumors swirled faster than she knew, and with surprising veracity.

His words were felt like a gut punch. The harsh language and familiar accent sent an unpleasant shiver down her spine, the sensation settling nauseatingly in her stomach. Cora glanced away from Albrecht's face and shrank back. Her breathing hastened, and she fought to keep the tremble from her hands as panic rose like bile from her chest to her throat.

They were in the Jedi temple on Coruscant, but Cora felt as though they were in the royal palace where high ceilings cast great shadows over her. It was as if Horace or her father were present, berating her for her behavior once more.

"I…"

She didn't have the strength to fight back his accusations. To fire back that it wasn't her fault that Horace had been violent with her, that she too had suffered because of Ukatian men's behavior. To dispel the notion that she was a traitorous whore, even if that was what she was. Albrecht couldn't know how broken and vulnerable she'd become, how disgusted she'd been with her own handling of the situation, how she and Shan had managed to survive when others had not, or how she'd almost lost Makko completely when she'd told him.

Cora's head tilted forward in a semblance of a bow. Blonde strands shifted over her face, obscuring the tears that gathered along her lash line.

"I…apologize. For dis…disturbing you."

She swallowed thickly and croaked out a whisper:

"Good day."

With that, Cora turned on her heel, burnt fruit cake in hand, and walked away quickly before she embarrassed herself further.

Albrecht

 

[Albrecht]

"I-I didn't…realize that…"

"What, that not everyone blindly adores you?" he finished, eyes narrowing. "Is it such a shock that not only Sith, Mandalorians, and men who beat their wives and daughters have reasons to hate you?"

With his empathic abilities growing stronger every day, Albrecht could sense a sliver of what she was feeling. Enough to realize that every story he’d heard about what she suffered must have been true. Even a fraction of her anguish and shame was immense, digging claws into him in the Force. He knew his words had been cruel, and he didn’t get much satisfaction from uttering them.

Well, maybe a little.

But come tomorrow, it wouldn’t even matter. She would go back to her friends who loved her (or at least pretended to love her) and they would offer reassurances and pats on the head until she felt better. Maybe she'd tell her tatted-up boyfriend what Albrecht had done, and he'd stop by to give him a beating. Or she'd tell one of the Nobles, and Albrecht would be punished in a more formal manner. Or maybe nothing would happen, and he wouldn't even have that small triumph.

He found that he didn't care about any of it. Not about Corazona, and not about the consequences of his actions. He just felt numb, cold, no feelings at all. Not even as he watched her run away in tears with her charred fruitcake. Once she disappeared from view, he slid the door shut and went back to his reading.

Corazona von Ascania​