Heir to the Empire
It was rare to see Lucien outside of his fiefdom, and even rarer for the King to grace the halls of Fortress Imperator. After his...unexpected visit to his brother a few months prior, the Knights and Security officers stationed at the fortress had grown wary of the young King's presence, and rightfully so at that. Lucien couldn't blame them after his episode of violence, albeit tempered despite the residual fears that lingered in their minds. He could sense the fear as he stepped inside the Fortress' walls, and all eyes centered upon his undeniable presence. Yet no hostilities were to be seen, and the pair of Knights accompanying him to his rear made no sudden moves against its inhabitants either.
All was well, it seemed, after the talk with his brother had played out to its conclusion.
They had reached an accord of sorts; an agreement in terms of principles was not the situation at hand, but the undeniable fact was their bond by blood remained strong and unbreakable. Even when he did not agree with his brother's ways, Lucien couldn't find it within him to sever the ties that connected them altogether. They were family, and Rurik proved to be among the last of the kin that Lucien had in this cruel galaxy of theirs The wars against the Sith had claimed their oldest sibling above the skies of Ziost, and it was Lucien himself who was forced to slay the third of the Dookus' who remained.
For better or for worse, it was just them.
And to make matters worse, Rurik had deemed his younger half-sibling his heir.
Such an appointment was not the reason for his visit, though it did help to convince his brother's Knights to lower their guard and let bygones remain in the past. He'd come to see Rurik on a personal note, in which the two shared the rare opportunity of setting aside the politics of Empire and Kings, to connect the way they knew best. A clash of blades erupted inside the training halls of Fortress Imperator, leading to a magnificent showing of elegant bladework between two of the best that the Knights had to offer. It was a bit cliché, but the two had always connected best when matters of war and combat were on the table.
They went on for hours, it seemed, neither one backing down, and each one taking every opportunity to push each other to their limits. Their display was a culmination of dozens, if not hundreds of battles fought through the length of the Third-Imperial Civil War, and though it remained a close battle until the their final bout of blades, it was Rurik who would take the win at the very end. But to Lucien, a loss or victory mattered little in the end. Rurik left to resume his business when it was all said and done, and Lucien was left to his own devices. The two brothers departed, but not before Lucien promised to overcome the Emperor's might the next time the two crossed sabers.
After dismissing his Knight escort to their own devices, Luc went off and to shower in the Knights' common area, and donned the attire that far separated him from the image of the King that many knew him to be. Tanned pants with a black shirt, covered by a leather jacket that had seen its fair share of wear and tear over the years. Despite putting on an ample amount of muscle, it still fit decently around his shoulders. He made his way out of the common room a few minutes later, taking off down the corridor until the mess hall came into sight.
A familiar face drew his attention across the room, triggering that familiar smirk of his to curl across his lips. Lucien shoved his hands into his jacket's pockets, the charcoal-hilt of his weapon dangling from his belt with a noisy clink which each step he took.
"Don't tell me you've forgotten me already."
He eventually spoke up, loud enough to turn the heads of more than a handful of the Knights who were minding their business in the moments before. Amber eyes focused upon the woman in the room who had caught his attention in the first place, the gravitas he carried eventually sending the message that he cared little for his outburst, and the attention it brought.
After a short pause in his gait, he continued forwards, only coming to a stop once the two were face to face.
"it's been a long time, Sahar."
