On The Fringe

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His mother was home.

[member="Feena Mason"] had managed to make her way out of the Netherworld - with the help of her daughter and some others. Cyril had spent his time keeping Naboo from falling too far from its graces, a task that he found himself well suited for. The Jedi had served as a ruler in the past, and the short term that he spent as the regent lord was not entirely taxing. The heavy lifting was done by the princes and princesses of Theed, he only kept the people pleased: a temporary figurehead while the royal family was away.

Needless to say, he was a bit more than pleased to be out of that occupation. He would be leaving for Sith space as soon as his contacts in the Order confirmed the mission. Then he would be gone, and there was little guarantee he would return. It was a sobering thought, but one that needed addressing.

Rather than visit Feena, the eldest of her children had invited the Queen to his own home. It an apartment with a private gym attached, purchased for the sake of practicing his lightsaber skills in his downtime. The abode was on the fringes of Theed, a small structure next to one of the many waterfalls that flowed from the plateau city.

The Jedi had not seen his mother since her disappearance. He'd not wanted to bother her rest when she returned, and pressing matters had kept kept him away soon after. Now there was a moment to speak with the Queen, not as royalty, but as mother to son, Jedi to former Master. He'd told her to bring her lightsaber.

He awaited in the attached gym. He was clad in simple clothing, blue jeans, a jacket, and a brown cloak reminiscent of his affiliation that draped over his shoulders and fell to his ankles. He sat cross legged between two punching bags, awaiting his mother's arrival.

 

[Feena]

He told her to bring her lightsaber. What a bizarre request. Still, it had been long enough since she'd seen her son that she was more than willing to comply. She had her husband bring it to her from the vaults deep under Dis. When she finally had it in her hand again, it all came back to her. The familiar smooth hilt, the polished silver tone metal, plain, simple, thin like a staff. She remembered the day she made it so very well.

It was the day she was knighted, her final trial. She'd sat for days in that bunker deep under Kashyyk. No rush. She knew better than to rush perfection and her Master had assured her that she had all the time in the world. The first crystal she had been given, did not seem to work for her. She'd put it in the saber, turned it on, and immediately disassembled the saber to start again. No. It hadn't been right. It didn't feel right. Luckily for her, she'd picked up something special on Hurrikaine. She'd just been wearing it around her neck, but for some reason, she'd decided to build her new lightsaber around it. She still remembered the first time she turned it on, the vivid violet, how it lit up the room.

Then she put it away. She killed a Sith with it in the ice caverns of Illum and she put it away. Forever, she thought. Let it collect dust. Now she held it in both hands as she came into the view of her son.

"Cyril."
She paused in the door way, dressed simply in a floor-length grey skirt, a well-fitting brick colored tunic with a matching obi tied neatly around her waist. Not a Queen here, but not common either.


[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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He felt her before he saw her. His mother was an island in the abysmal sea. Where most were swallowed within its depths, she rose above the waves, just as all with a honed connection to the force did. Cyril perceived himself as something similar in this theoretical sea. His eyes opened as she said his name; steely blue pools that narrowed in amusement at the sight of his mother.

The Jedi Master pushed up to his feet, and in three short bounds, arrived in front of his mother. He threw his arms around the woman, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"You alright mom?" He asked quietly. "Nothing broken?"

He pulled back from the hug, and offered the Queen a warm smile. There were things that needed to be said, questions that needed to be asked, but currently he was happy enough to have his mother home. He'd only found her again a few years ago. It wouldn't do to lose her so soon.

Then he saw it. The small cylinder she held in her hands. He had never seen the lightsaber she'd used as a Jedi Knight, but he found it to look exactly as he might have imagined. Perhaps that was another childhood vision imbedded under a mountain of repressed memories and mental detritus.

[member="Feena Mason"]

 

[Feena]

She returned the embrace carefully. Nothing broken, but a few bruises that had not yet healed. That other world was rough. She had Keter to protect her, but even he had his limits. They weren't as young as they used to be. Maybe she should start thinking about retirement soon? Live quietly out in lake country? Maybe finally return to the old Greyson family estate just off the white sandy beach. She could live out her days in peace there, until her illness finally got the better of her.

"Do you really think I'm that fragile?" she laughed, "Takes more than a few... whatever they were, to bring me down."

He looked tired too. What had her eldest child been up to?

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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One might notice the subtle whir of Cyril's right arm. The sound was mechanical in nature, and often identified with cybernetics. He had not bothered to tell Feena about the loss of his right hand, he did not wish to worry her, but now it was rather inevitable. He would take whatever she said on the subject with a grain of salt.

Hell...things." He tried, shrugging. "Glad you're back on one piece. Keeping Naboo from imploding was a mess."

So was Kashyyk.

He took a step back, and habitually folded his arms over his chest. There were things she needed to know.

"I had a bit of a mess on Kashyyk. Stopped the One Sith there, killed one of the Dark Lord's voices." He bit down on his lower lip. "Well...wounded. I didn't have the heart to kill her." He admitted. It was his own shame. Offing Silara would have done the galaxy so much good.

That woman had caused so much damage in the time since the conflict.

"I see you brought your lightsaber like I asked."

[member="Feena Mason"]

 

[Feena]

The cybernetics did not escape the Queens notice. She'd worked with cybernetics before, after all. Her own eyes were cybernetics. Some of her own research on the subject had been used to improve the technology, in fact. People seemed to forget that she'd spent most of her life as a healer. She smiled slightly. So he lost an arm. Better than losing his life. She could accept that.

"You did the right thing, Cyril," she nodded approvingly, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, "Killing is not an answer. It is a temporary solution. A weak solution. Easy to hate, but love? That's hard. Learning to love your enemy enough to spare them is even harder. I am proud of you."

She brought her silver eyes down to the lightsaber in her hand.

"Haven't touched this in years," she admitted, "I forgot what it felt like to hold it again. Why did I bring it?"

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Her approval set him at ease. There were few people Cyril held in high regard anymore - Corvetta, wherever in the galaxy she might be, his sisters, Rusken, and his mother. Even as old as he was, as experienced and wizened as he might be through the trials presented to him, he still enjoyed his mother's kind words.

"I've killed enough people to know." He answered quietly. It was true. Cyril had done things that his mother would never know, because she would hate him for it.

Glassy fields. Burning skies. Blood for the god king.

Telos was little more than a husk now, and that was his doing. The planet had been glassed to show Cyril's conviction to the Sith Order. It was something no one else would ever know - everyone who knew Cyril have the order was dead, by his hand or otherwise.

"Because..." He trailed off, and took a step back. "You're a Jedi. Whether you're apart of the Order or not, that doesn't leave you. The force is prominent in our family, and so is the Order." He gave a moment's pause. "I wanted to see you with it. The lightsaber, I mean."

[member="Feena Mason"]

 

[Feena]

His Mothers smile faded only slightly, but stayed in place. Feena was a master actress. She could stay in character no matter what it took. Today she was playing the part of the kindly old woman. She held the lightsaber up with a tiny laugh.

"Well, here you are then. Perhaps I should show you a holo recording of myself when I was younger. I was quite the talent, you know."
Not a lie. She'd been called a 'prodigy' when she was fourteen, a 'genius'. It made her laugh to remember how completely full of herself she'd been. She was good, but not that good.
"A Jedi, hm? I left the Jedi Order, trained under a Sith, married an imperial, had a son, abandoned them both. Then I married a Sith and got into politics. Yes. I am the very definition of the Jedi way." She snorted, shaking her head. "What is it you really wanted, Cyril?"

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Cyril shook his head.


"You have the heart of one." He stated confidently, holding his mother's gaze. "We all stray from time to time." He reached down for his own lightsaber. The weapon was nothing particularly special.

A broad durasteel hilt with a cyan crystal within. Its weight was far greater than the usual blade to suit the Jedi's fighting style. He 'd built it on Mustafar, so very long ago, along with --no help thinking about her.

"I thought you served on the council." He asked quietly, eyes searching his mother. "I...don't know. Maybe I was expecting something else." Despite his wishes, the disappointment was obvious in his voice. His features darkened, if only for a moment.

He wanted so desperately for something to tie him to his family. They were nothing alike, not Felicity, not Celeste, certainly not Keter. He'd hoped that, perhaps, his mother might be receptive to her old life, to have some kind of connection similar to his own. It was a childish desire, borne to one who had trouble forming any kind of bond with those in his own order.

He had wished that the lightsaber might awaken something in Feena. Evidently it hadn't. She was the Queen of Naboo, royalty, something he could never be. The divide that only he saw would be eternal.

"I'm going to Sith space." He blurted out. I'm going to help the resistance, and...if things go accordingly, find a way to get to the Sith Emperor." His arms fell meekly down to his sides.

"I suppose I was going to ask if you would come with me, but that ridiculous. I see that now."


[member="Feena Mason"]

 

[Feena]

The older woman was, well, old. Too old for adventures and heroics. She fought her battles in the one arena she couldn't kill anyone in. He would understand some day. Still, his disappointment hurt.

"Yes. I served on the Jedi Council for years. I was in the running for Grandmaster too. Had I not dropped out of the running, I was told I was almost assured. But you have to know my values by now, Cyril. You have to understand. I wanted to serve the people, everyone, everywhere, not just the Jedi."

She sighed. It had been a hard enough decision to make, leaving it all behind her. But the Jedi of her youth had been corrupt, greedy. No care for the average citizen of the Galaxy. It was all about war, who could kill the most people the quickest. And Feena had grown... tired. So she'd looked to find a way to prevent war, stamp out poverty and all that came with it. She'd found her place, she'd found her purpose. And that purpose did not involve swinging a laser sword around.

"Who will watch over my people?" she asked, "I left them once and it hurt. If I leave again, there will be no coming back. You know that. You understand what you are asking of me, Cyril. I am not as strong as I used to be."

She'd die. There would be no avoiding it. She'd die. Naboo would mourn, yes, but they'd move on. Quickly. She'd be the Queen that left to fight a battle that had nothing to do with them. It wasn't that she was afraid of death. She'd learned to accept it, even expect it through the years. Her illness brought her closer by the day. But she was not a fighter. She refused to let her last act in this Galaxy be a violent one.

"The force is strong in you. Embrace it, nurture it. But never forget that you are your own person. Jedi or Sith, it does not matter to me. I'm proud of you."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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There was a long, almost painful pause. She was proud. That was something, at the very least. He drew in a deep breath and cast his gaze to the ground.

"Thanks." He grunted, stepping forward to clap a hand on Feena's shoulder. He was an outlier, always would be, but he could make a bit of difference. "Be careful with the girls. Let them make their own decisions like you do me." He said steadily, adopting the persona of the military commander he had once been.

Rock solid and unshakable in his beliefs. That was Graxin Rade. Cyril was a lot more flexible, but that side of him would never die. It would always be there, ready to show its face when necessary. "I think you should keep it with you." He gestured toward the lightsaber. "Shunning the past only causes damage. You made it, and no matter how you might have used it, it's a part of you."

His arm fell down to his side. "That's just my opinion though."

He offered a slight smile. Felicity was on his mind, though he wouldn't voice it. The girl was off doing her own thing.

And gods willing she wasn't helping the One Sith.

"What was my father like?" He asked abruptly, becoming her young, naive son once more. He knew desperately little about the Grand Moff that had sired him, save that he'd burned worlds for his family.

[member="Feena Mason"]

 

[Feena]

Ah. She'd disappointed him. She let her careful smile fade away at last. The girls. Her girls. His sisters. If he knew what she had in mind, he'd never forgive her for it. He wouldn't understand. She was desperately trying to protect them.

She looked down at the lightsaber in her hand still. Keep it? It was a symbol of war, death. She could still see blood on the hilt, blackened with age. How could she justify it? Because it was her? No.

The question he asked next caught her by surprise. His father. Him.
"He was... everything a fifteen year old girl could want," she answered slowly, "handsome. Brave. You look like him. He would do anything for us. But..."

She bit her lip and looked away. Some things were better off unsaid.
"You should visit felicity before you leave to fight your war. She misses you."

 

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He did not wish for his mother to leave unhappy. He approached the former Jedi, and pulled her into a hug. It was a longer embrace, one between a mother and her child. Feena and her son were very close compared to many other families across the galaxy. Cyril didn't mind showing that affection when it was needed.

"I'll pay her a visit." He promised, mentally calculating how and when he would fit the teenager into his schedule. It was already tight, but he could make the time. "And I'm sorry I haven't given you any grandchildren. My duty is to the order first...women are also very difficult." He joked. "I love you, mom."

It was important to say. After spending so much time in a broody, dark place, Cyril made a point to let those around him know that he cared. Especially family.

"I like the I'm-not-a-Queen getup, by the way. Very convincing."

[member="Feena Mason"]

 

[Feena]

She hugged him back with a sigh. Her boy was so different. The black sheep. Just like her in that sense. But he was more Greyson than she was. He was right to inherit the name.

"Yes, well, I don't suppose I can blame you for that one. It's alright. I have three children. One of them is bound to give me grandbabies before I die."
And if she had to place a bet on one of them, she would bet on Felicity, hopefully with that Magrath boy. Of course, she didn't say any of that out loud. Instead, she held her lightsaber out to him.

"Take this. I know you wanted me to carry it, you said it was a part of me. Well, now you can carry a part of me with you when you leave. Take it, before I whack you with it for making fun of my outfit. It's called fashion, boy."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Whatever more she had to say was lost to the Jedi. He took her lightsaber with gentle hands, caressing the blade as if it were a child. This creation was a tool of war to [member="Feena Mason"]. A symbol of chaos and anarchy in the galaxy. To Cyril, it was a symbol of peace. The lightsaber was as much a part of him as his arm was. It was an extension of his very being - and Feena had given him her own.

He clipped it to his belt, next to the long, brutal hilt of Darth Vulcanus's black blade. His own hung in the other side of his hip.

Slowly, he pulled away from the hug, offering his mother a loving smile. He had a family to come home to at the end of the day. That was something woefully few Jedi would ever be able to say. He felt distressed for them, but he would not give up his own.

Not again.

"Thanks...it's only slightly funny." He snickered, tapping the lightsaber on his belt. It was weighted perfectly. "Where's Felicity? I'll need to see her too."

[member="Feena Mason"]

 

[Feena]

She let go of the lightsaber the moment he took it into his hand. A sense of intense relief washed over her. Gone. She was glad to be rid of the burden and the memories that came with it. Good memories, yes, but memories so unspeakably shameful they could not possibly make up for it. She sighed.

"Felicity is gone away for a while. I have sent her to live with an old family friend. The Magrath family is going to look after her and complete her... training, I suppose you could call it."

He would not be very pleased with this, she was sure. Well, he would have to learn about the Greyson family history eventually, and who their allies were. They Greyson family and the Magraths were both old families. All old, wealthy families met eventually.

"I will send you coordinates to the estate and let the Duchess know you will be dropping by to see Felicity."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Magrath. Allies of the One Sith. For his part, Cyril his his outrage well. He offered a small slip of a smile that might very well be fake, and searched his mother's expression. How could she not see how... stupid that was. Sending his little sister into the enemy's hands. Nobility meant nothing to the heir of the Grayson family. He did not care about ancient familial ties, alliances, marriages, any of it.

The anger slowly simmered as Cyril imagined a massive boot crushing a smoldering campfire. He could not allow his emotions to get the better of him - he was a Jedi Master. A wave of calm washed over him like a cooling tide. He drew in a deep breath, and expelled it slowly.

He could retrieve Felicity. Feena would never know, but then he would have trouble heading to the core...

He would figure out something.

"Feel free. It'll be good to see her."

[member="Feena Mason"]

 

[Feena]

Ah, there it was. That disapproval. The Queen smiled. She knew he would hate it, but really, he was the reason she sent the girl there in the first place.

"I bet," she responded flatly, "I recommend bringing her a gift. Something small."

She didn't say why of course. He didn't need to know that Felicity was still upset with him for not resuming her training. He'd find out soon enough.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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"I'll be sure to bring her something worthwhile." Cyril promised.

He was an open book to family. He could not guard his emotions even if he tried. The force was to prominent in their blood. Whatever he felt would be broadcast to the Queen of Naboo, whether he wished it or not.

"I'll visit her once I leave Naboo. Then I head to Sith space." He offered a slight smile, and breathed a quiet sigh. Things were going to move quickly again. "Let the Baroness know I'm coming?" He lofted a brow.

It was going to be difficult getting there. He was a Jedi Master, and the Magraths were very much Sith in his eyes. He would have to figure out something...





[member="Feena Mason"]

 

[Feena]

"Duchess," she corrected, "She is Duchess Magrath now."

She could not allow her son to forget. Anything he said to the Duchess was a reflection on his Mother as well. She wanted to stay on good terms with the woman, after all.

"Now. I think I've stood here quite long enough. When were you planning to offer me tea? Or have I taught you absolutely nothing?"

[member="Cyril Grayson"]