Private Little Expectations

[Corazona von Ascania]

After the events of The Moonlight Masquerade.

Cora didn't have the mind to appreciate the way soft lantern light played off of her pale skin. It caught the dark gems of her mask, now scrunched in her tight fist, bathing the black crystal lattice in a warm glow.

The gardens were a maze. Or maybe they weren't, and she was just so out of sorts that even the finely manicured green hedges seemed to be closing in. The height of her panic had dissipated, but it still lingered enough to keep her nervous system active and agitated.

At last, she came upon a fountain. Cora knelt near the fixture, laying the mask over the curved edge, and found immediate relief by dipping her hands into the cool water.

It was hard to shake the image of Jorryn Fordyce and her stark white hair, nor could she shake what the surprise kiss had done to her. Never had she felt hunger and darkness without malice. It was strangely intoxicating, and it served as a reminder of how alluring and dangerous the dark could be.

Her fingers still stung a bit from the ensuing slap, buzzing from the harsh crack! against the other woman's cheek.

With cupped palms, she lifted the water to splash against her face. Once, then twice. Cora gasped; it was enough to begin to soothe her flush and regulate her heavy breathing.

"Fool," she muttered. "You absolute fool. You should've walked away when she'd asked you to dance."

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Corazona von Ascania​

The night air caressed Lysander's skin, still carrying to the melody of the masquerade. He could still hear those distant strings whispering their charm, the murmured laughter, everything echoing through the garden paths.

Reflection only worked when the galaxy allowed him to settle long enough, enough to make sense of himself.

Amid the swirl of the evening, there was one quiet image that stayed with him. Since the day the rain fell softly on their first glance, Isobel's eyes lighting up at the small and mundane felt like a gentle spell, and every smile a soft enchantment.

Beyond that, Alvaria’s ashes still latched onto him, Desevro’s trials carving deeper, and thus Naboo’s night had unfolded like a dream he didn’t wish to wake from.

For a time, he’d lingered here, to breath, to get his head straight even, not desiring to be some dutiful apprentice hovering behind his master and her date.

The blonde wandered the garden’s maze, and it was there his pulse became consistent for the first time all evening.

He exhaled and continued walking. Then he heard it.. an all too familiar, and soft voice, cracked at the edges..

Lysander stopped mid stride, every muscle tightening. Turning on his heel, he followed that sound around the hedges.

Lantern light caught Cora first, and suddenly the words spoken felt like a wound. For a moment.. he just stood there. From the older sister he used to shadow everywhere through the manor’s halls to someone shaking at the edge of a fountain, it wasn’t an easy sight to bear.

So, he moved near, quietly, his gaze then catching her prosthetic hand first. A punch to the gut with no mercy.. seeing it always hurt. Perhaps, because it often reminded him of how he was too weak to protect her before. Or perhaps, it was proof that the galaxy didn’t care how bright you were; it took what it wanted anyway.

“Cora..”

Given the nature of such an event here, it could only be the result of a few things.

His voice dipped lower. “What happened?”

It wasn’t meant to be protective, nor possessive, just the tone of a brother who wished to know the truth so he could help her back on solid ground..

“You’re shaking,” he said softer than he’d allow most to ever hear from him. “Slow down. Look at me.. please.”

A huff of humor pressed into the air. “If we’re handing out the title of fool, I will forever be ahead of you.”

And the rest of their family, for that matter.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The worst thing that could've happened, happened.

She'd been seen.

Cora was quick to lift her head from the fountain, haphazardly combing the fingers of her cybernetic hand through mussed hair. Was there anything more embarrassing for an aristocrat to be caught in a state so vulnerable?

Caught by…

You're shaking.

If there every was a voice that could lance straight through her armor, it was his. Whether he realized it or not, Lysander pieced all of her defenses in an instant. It was the sort of power that some Sith chased for centuries – the ability to elicit such a potent emotional response by sheer presence alone. And here Lysander was, practically reducing her to ruin with only a few gentle words.

It wasn't just him though. It was what he represented. All of those years they'd spent together in their youth, nearly inseparable. He'd been her shadow. Her bright, golden shadow, and she the sentinel that protected him.

He was a shadow of a different kind, now. One that seemed intent to thrive on everything she wasn't.

His little quip forced a short, ragged peal of laughter from her chest. It didn't sound right, but it was honest. Perhaps the most honest he'd ever seen her.

"I must look ridiculous," she murmured, a dry chuckle that threatened to catch in her throat. "Have you ever seen me so undone?"

Cora adjusted so that her back was to the fountain, one elbow resting against the masonry to support the attempted straightening of her spine. But she was tired, and it showed.

"I'm fine, Lysander. Really." An old line he'd heard a thousand times, and a paper-thin defense she couldn't help but fall back on.

At least now, she sounded a little more composed. A free hand tried to wave him off, and it might've looked convincing, save for the errant drips of fountain water that still slipped down her cheeks. "I've just had a rough night, is all. But-" her lips pursed as she peered up at him, marveling on the simple fact that it had usually been him looking up at her "-what are you doing here?"

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Corazona von Ascania
​

Every beat of what his sister spoke only snagged against the quiet storm he carried inside; whether it be in the Mid Rim, or back to the Outer, truly, it mattered not. The Sith moved slowly, not out of fear; no, this had been burned out of him on the hell of Korriban; it was because something in him still felt hesitant, because seeing his eldest sister like this felt so close to another memory with her he had faced alone on several occasions now.

Of course, he wouldn't dare to speak such aloud, but the sight hit him with an ache he hadn't shaken since their last encounter at the manor. Rather than shelter under the oak tree, it had become a prism of pain. She spoke words of acceptance, and Lysander had been so quick to cling to that softness for an instant, foolish enough to believe it would hold. Except the Force spoke the truth that Cora would not, for the wound itself pulsed with her rejection, disappointment, and heartbreak. It didn't bleed, but it gutted him all the same.

Still, he stepped in. Because beyond the Light, beyond the Dark, beyond every battle he had to swallow to survive.. family had always come first for him.

But now the tenderness from tonight sat alongside something much darker. Emerald orbs glimmered beneath a veneer of ice.

When he severed the very arm that grabbed her at a wedding upon Hapan, it was nothing more than his blade answering a question. When he murdered the gluttonous king upon Ukatis with a poisoned dagger, it had been done out of spite toward the sire of a son who once disgraced the other blonde. A cruelty repaid with cruelty by necessity. And had he known the victim of tonight’s incident? He would have gladly sliced the figure from ear to ear.

There was no shame in these thoughts; they were chapters in a book where protection of family was always written with crimson ink.

Silence fell over him, attention drawn to the stone at their feet. Naboo’s night air was drawn in slowly, before a sharp exhale slipped through the nose, lest the storm curled in his chest find a way out.

So, he finally allowed his mouth to twitch with something softer at her inquiry, perhaps concession, or perhaps even affection that he hadn’t allowed himself to offer in years. The dismissive wave only pulled at him, a ghost's hand, while ignoring her lie, one familiar to the heart. The truth was quiet: he only wanted to take her cold and leave the warmth.

"-what are you doing here?"

Unsurprisingly, he circled right back to just moments ago, to a description that fit him best.

“Being a fool, of course.”

Why else would a certain Padawan have kept spinning in his head all night?

Another small step was taken.

The words that fell from his lips next carried the weight of years. "Strange, isn't it, how the one I spent my whole childhood trying to impress is still the one I can't bear to see breaking now."

Lysander’s hand rose, palm open. “You’ve always been the one I admired.. even now.”

​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Breaking?"

Cora frowned, as if the very words he spoke did not break her heart a thousand times over by their own bearing. She always knew that someday, she'd have to mourn the death of Lysander's childhood.

She just didn't want to lose the man he was becoming.

"If you admire me now," she murmured, sweeping damp blonde strands back from her ruddy cheeks. Were they slick with sweat, fountain water, or perhaps tears? "Then you certainly are a fool."

In another tone, it would've been a jab. Any sharpness in her voice was wrapped in layers of low, reverent warmth. Longing, even, and the vague understanding that their bond might've been distorted, but it was still very much there.

"Come on," she sighed, beckoning him forward with a lazy hand onto the moss-edge stone tiles next to her. "Come sit with your sister and we can complain about our evening."

It might've been sacrilege, but Cora was too tired to be a Jedi right now. She only wanted to be Lysander's sister, selfish as it was.

Whether he moved to join her or not, Cora would pluck a blade of grass that peeked out from the fountain's marbled perimeter.

"I'll even go first," she decided. "Tonight, I danced with a mysterious woman, became ill, and then she kissed me."

One finely manicured blonde eyebrow arched as she peered up at Lysander. The blade of grass had idly woven its way between her fingers.

"Top that, if you can.”

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Corazona von Ascania
​

Lysander paused just a single step from the fountain. The hand, one she refused to take, moved on to idly touch the collar of his suite.. as if adjusting nothing at all. Still, the old pull of protection tightened in his chest.

He stepped forward with grace, allowing the crunch of boots to whisper his promise to follow. Seamlessly, he lowered himself onto the mossy edge beside her, careful not to disturb the garden.

“Ah,” he murmured, letting his gaze drift over the other blonde as she recounted her tale. “Ill, kissed, and.. still upright.. very impressive.” A casual shake of the head punctuated his thoughts, as if marveling at her endurance.. “You’re indeed much stronger than I still.”

Leaning back slightly, hands rested at his sides, and a long, drawn out sigh escaped him. “Had my dance partner dared such a thing.. I might have fainted, truly.”

The moonlight brushed the planes of Lysander’s face. When his lips curved next, it was softened by innocence rather than any sharp edge.. a rare glimpse of the brother she once knew.

“I…” He let the pause stretch just long enough to carry the curiosity, “...I found myself in the presence of a noble lady for whom I am.. quite infatuated with.”

His shoulders gave a small, sheepish shrug. “Might I daresay it was only my second time seeing her, yet the evening felt.. oddly fated, as if the stars had planned it themselves.”

Her laugh, Isobel's soft strength, the chaos of courtly expectation, it had been a rare thing.. simple, innocent, and wholly alive. Even more foolish was to think of it as a fairytale from his youth back on Ukatis, ones even Cora would be familiar with.

But.. perhaps it was simply his nature. Romanticism, like air, always filled his lungs without thought. And so, the warmth lingered in the chest even now.. and he was unashamed, wearing the crown of one who knew no regret.

“You’d have liked her,” he added after a moment. “There’s a kindness to her, the sort of thing you can’t quite hide, no matter how the galaxy tells you to.”

War was on the horizon, and most corners of the galaxy were already up in flames, yet for now… she could still see him as he once was. And maybe that alone could lessen the sting of her own struggles tonight. Or so he hoped.

"You would tell me if I was being ridiculous, wouldn’t you?" His voice softened. "You always did.”

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"You are ridiculous," Cora insisted. Spite had no home in her voice, mellow and warm. "Infatuation makes fools of us all. Ashla knows what it did to me."

She tilted her head to observe Lysander's profile, the harsher edge of his jaw softened by moonlight. There, sitting on the ground at the perimiter of the fountain, Cora was struck by how he'd aged. No longer a lad, but a teenager on the cusp of becoming a man.

The realization kicked up a strange flurry of pride and yearning in stomach. Those days where she'd sit him on her lap, watching his little hands turn the page of an ornate story book as she read aloud suddenly didn't seem so long ago.

And yet, they'd never felt so far away.

"I'd like to meet the girl who managed to capture my brother's heart in less than two meetings." A fond chuckle was quick on the heels of that statement. Teenage love burned bright, that was for sure. Like striking a match in the dark. Despite his chosen path, Lysander still had the heart of a romantic. "Fate has a way of making everything seem so bright and luminous," she added softly. "Perhaps I'll make you introduce her to me sooner rather than later."

In a gesture that felt both natural and overstepping, Cora reached for her brother's hand. Her thumb briefly ran over the edge of his palm, surprised to find callouses. You couldn't train with a metal saber for hours on end and retain soft, smooth hands.

"Lysander, you...never did like it when I kept things from you," she began softly. The blade of grass she'd been idly fiddling with wove its way around his ring finger. It was only a mild distraction from the nerves that bubbled up in her chest, clawing their way up her throat as they grasped for her words. Cora hesitated, her fingers trembling just slightly as they tied a knot into the green stalk. "We were going to wait a little while to tell people, but…"

Her brow tensed, recalling how her dance partner knew what her affliction had been. It had felt almost violating, in a way. At least here, she was in control of how the information was delivered. Perhaps a different backdrop would've been better, but Cora wouldn't have traded this moment for any other in the galaxy.

So she took a deep breath, forced herself to finally look her brother in the eye, and laced her fingers with his own.

"Lysander, you're going to be an uncle."

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Corazona von Ascania
​

Ridiculous.

That word might've stung had it been someone else, but from Cora, it didn’t have teeth. Not really.. not when it came wrapped in that older sister warmth he’d spent his whole childhood orbiting. Still, Lysander huffed a breath, just shy of a laugh, before he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“You’re not wrong.” The admission slipped out on a slow exhale. “But it helps make me believe the galaxy’s.. gentler than it truly is.”

And again, Cora’s words caught the younger Ascania in a place deeper than expected. The teen’s throat tightened; he dipped his head in a bashful nod. Strands of blonde flipped forward, a curtain for the warmth spreading across his cheekbones.

“She didn’t capture anything,” the Sith countered. “I just.. noticed her. And everything after that felt..”

He searched for the words, eyes half lidded. “..bright. Like Ukatis in spring when the fields catch the twin suns.”

His shoulders nearly went rigid after. It wasn’t exactly fear, or embarrassment.. but something else. Something fragile, because it mattered to him.

“If you want to meet her..” A breath of disbelief left him.. amused, nervous, hopeful, and an idiot all at once. “Ashla, Cora, I think you’d terrify her. But I’d like that. I.. think she’d like you too. She has that kind of heart.”

Then, came a shift, and that weave of grass, somehow landed harder than any words thus far. Instinctively, he flexed his fingers, feeling it tighten.. perhaps a sign that he wouldn't pull away. Lysander's posture turned, opening toward her. His grip closed around hers. Whatever it was, he wasn't the little brother needing protection; he was the shield that the Outer Rim and chose family above all else.

Everything stilled.. the night’s air.. the rush of fountain water..

An Uncle..

A gasp came out, softer, before he ever had a chance to swallow it. And even if he had, with her finger tangling his, there was no hiding. Lysander tried to fix the sudden swell behind his green eyes, blinking one.. like he had to actually stop and process light from a life that only knew shadows.

His gaze lifted to her.. the sister who’d practically raised him, the one who’d read him stories, the one who tied his hair back during every fever, stood between him and the galaxy’s nightmares more times than he could count.

“Cora..” He stopped, exhaled, so he could try again. “You..”

His free hand lifted, hesitating midair. “You’re joking.” Then it found its place, atop hers, near the elbow, a gesture from his childhood. “You’re not joking.”

An internal beat fluttered across him.

Bogan, I’m going to be the most irresponsible and coolest uncle ever.

The first new light in their family in years, an heir, in a galaxy drowning in blood.

“I’m going to be an uncle,” he echoed, completely dazed.

Something more than a future-Sith-apprentice-commander-whatever.

If she was starting a family and told him.. then maybe that actually meant he could be a part of it, regardless of their difference in views of Light and Dark.

Color rose back up through his neck, into his ears, into his cheeks.

“You’re going to be an amazing mother. And I.. I’ll be here. Whatever you need. Always.. I promise.”

Somewhere between a thermal detonator of emotion going off, his brain short circuiting, and a full body malfunction, a weird and warm laugh betrayed him.

​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Terrify her…?" Cora murmured, a lingering mix of quiet surprise and faint amusement that seemed to idle in the air between them even after her lips stopped moving.

Lysander allowed her to thread their fingers together, and she smiled. The sort of smile the made the corners of her cheeks ache with a kind of happiness she thought she'd forgotten.

It felt like sacrilege and re-connection all at once.

She let the revelation land. Kept her hand in Lysander's own, and tried to act like her next breath wasn't hinging on his reaction.

"Not joking," she whispered with a cracked voice.

A soft, warbling laugh bubbled up between her ribs at Lysander's dazed delight. It trickled away slowly, and Cora wasn't quite ready to abandon the soft, glimmering high of the moment.

"I still have a ways to go. I'm only about ten weeks, you know."

Her other hand came to rest against the flat of her abdomen, cradling the spark of new life where it rested. "I think she's a girl. We won't know for sure until later but…call it mother's intuition?"

Too many family secrets had been hidden away in shadows. Cora didn't understand Lysander's choice, but she didn't want to hide him away, either.

Perhaps she wanted too much.

"It'll be difficult," she admitted, not just to him but to herself. How long could they dance around the elephant in the garden for? "Perhaps impossible. For us to be a family, whole, on opposite sides of the spectrum."

Her voice fell away, lost to the night, the guilt, the differences between them. No matter how far the rift widened, Cora couldn't help but think of Lysander as anything other than her brother. Not as a Sith. Not as a man who'd welcomed the Dark side, and she dreaded the day when she could no longer afford to turn a blind eye.

"I've heard that becoming a mother can change you. Your way of looking at things." Her lips pursed together, quirking in a shadow of humor. "But I think that she's already making me crazy."

Lysander von Ascania