Private In the Garden of Eden

[Corazona von Ascania]

There wasn't a second of hesitation when Cora turned her gaze towards Makko as his gesture drew her slightly closer.

Something about the softness of his voice and the gentle warmth of his hand got to her.

In a flourish of skirts, she was suddenly standing in front of him. Still holding his hand, her free arm outstretched and jabbed a finger to his chest.

"You shouldn't be here!" She huffed angrily.

But Cora didn't let go of his hand. She didn't leave, either.

The sounds of night, the distant but constant chirp of cicadas, fell between them.

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

He was slightly thrown off balance by her holding him with one hand and jabbing at him with the other.

His inferiority complex at having the princess of an entire world telling him what to do and poking him so rudely in the chest simmered away.

His expression galvanised into one of defiance.

"No, I shouldn't!" he agreed. He dared not raise his voice, so it took on a strange quality of harsh whispering.

He shouldn't have been in this garden, at this festival, on this planet. He shouldn't have remained in touch with Cora at all.

"So whatcha gonna do?" he asked. "Order me away?"

Makko raised one eyebrow, tightened his grip on her hand. Slow and sure, he pulled her closer, sitting upright as she stood before her so that he could meet her gaze.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora's face hardened in haughty confrontation. Her lips twisted into a pout.

Their relationship really was like an elastic band. Pulled taut, tighter still, then they snapped back together. It was even worse when they were separated by distance and the current situation.

The Princess met his challenge with a glare, though he wouldn't be able to miss the heat simmering in her eyes. And she could only focus on the way he held her hand, the gentle but firm tug as he drew her closer.

Her breathing heightened audibly, cheeks flushed as their bond created a single point of warmth against the chill and darkness of the night. As wrong as it was, this felt so right.

"Would you leave if I did?" Her voice was soft, and when she spoke, she realized how close they were. Close enough to feel her breath drift against his lips when she whispered.

Cora did not want an answer to her question. Not a verbal one, anyway. Tension stretched between them until it reached a fever pitch, a breaking point, and the elastic finally snapped.

Burying her free hand into his hair, Cora yanked Makko forward and kissed him feverishly.

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

She had asked him if he would leave. As the band inevitably snapped them back together, she asked him if he would stay.

He should have expected this to happen, but he was always a fool and would always be blindsided by their feelings for one another.

You shouldn't do this!

Makko was struck by the enchanting scent of the girl in his arms. It silenced the voice of dissent. It had started to evoke memories before he had even become consciously aware of it. He was struck by images of the humid jungle training ground, the air thick and heavy. Memories of her academy room, the drifting aroma of their shared warmth.

As scent evoked memory, hands traced familiar paths. He took no less pleasure because of the familiarity. His hands traced contours through layers of formal clothing. Makko pulled her tight, sitting bolt upright and pulling her flush to his chest. A soft hum followed her grip tightening in his hair.

He pulled her weight against him. The pressure between their lips increased and his desire spoke his response for him.

The kiss deepened, breath and tongues passing through teeth. Makko had yearned for her these past long months.

Horace could be damned. Horace didn't own her. Her heart still belonged to him.

This was a foolish endeavor that would end in more heartache, but Makko would play the fool once again. And for just a few minutes he could pretend this was simple. As simple as it had been - and would be - for months.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Everything fell away. The palace, her role there, her husband who would've been furious to witness such scandal. Even the lush gardens surrounding them faded into the back of Cora's mind as she melted into Makko.

It had been three months since she'd seen him. Three months since she'd held his hand, three months since she'd kissed him, three months since she'd felt loved.

The relationship they'd had almost felt cruel, in a way. If they hadn't pursued each other, there wouldn't have been anything to rip apart.

Head canting to the side to drink deeper, she couldn't help but revel in everything safe and familiar about Makko. They'd built a powerful bond in the Force, thread by thread, without even realizing it.

There was a voice in the back of Cora's mind, ever-present, that protested at her lack of control. Even if she held no love for Horace, he was her husband and she had great respect for the institution of marriage. She paused, heavy breaths passing from swollen lips, to consider the ramifications of what she was doing.

That concern lasted only for half a second before affection and desire won.

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

Makko, by contrast, held no respect for the institution of marriage. He held even less for the particular arrangement that Cora found herself in.

He pressed his lips to hers with a growing hunger. Awareness of their surroundings never left him, but it did little to stifle to soft groan that rose from deep in his chest.

This was a foolish notion. A truly stupid thing to do. He carried on anyway. Hands grasped at her waist, movements quickening with the beat of his heart and the rhythm of his breaths.

His thumb strayed against bare skin. He smiled at the feel of her tattoo. Once last act of defiance that...

It was not the subtle geometric ridges he felt. He skin was smooth and rough. Scarred.

He broke the kiss.

"Cora?"

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The kiss broke, and Makko's thumb paused mid-stroke over her hip where the tattoo was. Had been.

Instead of smooth skin, he'd feel uneven ridges of flesh. The burn had been slow to heal, and left behind an ugly, tactile scar.

Cora found clarity in the pause, the desperate haze clearing from her eyes after a few moments.

What in Ashla am I doing!

Face flaming in shame, she was quick to scramble her way from Makko's lap and scurry to the very far end of the bench. Not only had she spat in the face of her royal union, but Makko was now aware that her last act of defiance against Horace had left her brutalized. With shaking hands, she fumbled with the edges of her shirt, tucking them back into the high waist of her skirt.

She was taken back to that moment for a few brief, agonizing seconds. Cora could almost feel Horace's weight on top of her, his breath against her ear as he held the hot iron poker to her skin, indifferent to her cries of pain.

"He…he didn't like it."

Cora's voice came as a hoarse whisper as she tucked herself against the railing of the bench.

"So he…removed it."

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

Makko's gaze followed Cora, but it soon fell to his own hands in his lap. It felt as if he had been struck right in the gut with a hammer.

That last piece of defiance hadn't been a catalyst for her memories of him. It had sparked another horrible moment in the nightmare she had walked into.

Makko threw back his head and looked past the the greenery to the stars above. The blow to his gut left him feeling hollow.

Within a few heatbeats a fire filled that space. A different kind of passion to the one that had coursed through his veins moments before. This was all anger.

"Fuck him," Makko hissed.

He pulled at the collar of his tunic until she could see a new addition to his ink. The neon circuitry was eating away at a dismembered version of the Cholmondeley crest. A more intricate and distinctly Makko version of her tattoo.

"He's not here," Makko hissed, back in her personal space. He reached up across his body, two fingers to her chin tilting her face towards him.

He was going to kill Horace. But if she could put him from mind for a fee more minutes, then so could he.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

She wanted to disappear. If Cora could sink into earth, she would have. Makko's anger was palpable, and as he closed in and lifted her chin with two fingers, she was reminded of where his ire usually lead.

Blue eyes widened as they drifted down, catching sight of the fresh ink on his skin, a mirror of the mark she'd gotten in defiance to her husband. "I should have known better, Makko." Her strained whisper coincided with the tears that slipped down her cheeks. "I knew he would be upset, but I never imagined he would…"

Cora bit her lip. She couldn't decide if she felt trapped between him and the bench.

"His eyes are everywhere."

Murmuring, she leaned closer and tilted her forehead to rest against his shoulder. Erratic breaths drew in the comfort and familiarity of his scent.

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

Internally, he reeled. A myriad of emotions swirled around. Anger was a red streak through that cut through every colour of the palette.

As Cora leaned her forehead against his shoulder Makko brushed a tear from her cheek with one thumb.

If they were seen, even the most indifferent touch would be taken as a great offence to the crown. Makko didn't care what they might do to him. He cared very deeply about what Horace could do to Cora.

He had personally burned her bare flesh for an act of defiance.

Makko closed his eyes and stretched out with his feelings. His affinity for technology would find anything trained on them. There were no cameras, no people close enough to see them.

"For the moment, we are alone," he told her. "So just kiss me, because we won't ever get another chance," he said. His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The sweep of his thumb below her eye was the gentlest touch she'd experienced in months.

Makko was right—they would likely never find themselves in this position ever again. No one was around to witness their affair, so there would be no scandal to follow. There was no affection or loyalty in her heart for Horace, so she wouldn't be tortured by betrayal.

Cora raised her head, slow and unsteady. Tears rolled freely down either side of her face, creating dark, watery paths of smudged mascara. Her hands trembled as she slid them down his arms.

Even before she'd become a Princess, Cora had made very few decisions for herself. She was happy to have her life dictated by her father, because he knew best for her and their family. She'd joined the Jedi under his order, and begrudgingly left on his command. The newfound sense of freedom she'd gained on Coruscant made her struggle, but it had also made her determined.

Makko was the one choice she'd made for herself. Again, she would make the same choice here. One kiss that would be worth a thousand hot irons against her skin.

Cupping both sides of his face, a thumb gently brushed dark curls back from his eyes. Her lips found his own, and the tears refused to stop.

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

He didn't realise how easily his touch would affect her. Slow as ever, he didn't understand that he was rain in a drought. Genuine warmth and affection when she had been left so, so alone.

Tension bled from his body. As the anger release some of its hold on him, he went from stuff and motionless to moving with Cora. She cupped his face and he closed his eyes, his focus as much on the sense of her warm hands on his skin as it was on his own hands as he embraced her back.

He didn't think of her needs for a few seconds. This, he decided, was completely selfish. He was taking what he wanted from Cora and making her life even more difficult.

Makko soon let himself feel how wrong he was. She wanted this as much as him - more than him. He had been the one to initiate this, but her determination now dwarfed his own.