Skye is Fallow (Fringe: Lucien)

[Yasha Cadera]

"I do now. Being Noble born explains a couple of things. . . I'm just a person from Naboo. Mom wanted me to be a politician, you know, live up to the ancient family name as if stuff that happened nine hundred years ago mattered. Isn't that what Nobility is? A group of people clinging to the actions of the past? Well, I don't know. It never clicked, you know? Dad being a Rhandite. Now it makes me wonder. After we're done on Lipsec, I might hoof it to the Nihil Retreat and . . . it's just. . . it's dumb. The Sorcerers of Rhand would eat me alive. Besides, what parent throws their kid out at twelve?" My voice trails off, I glance over at [member="Lucien Cordel"] and [member="Mikhail Shorn"] and fight off a shudder. My mental voice strokes in coincidence with Mikhail's open admonition. He hated his childhood? I flatten the folds of my blue and gold dress - the very same dress I wore that first night I went to Mikhail and he nearly tore my neck from my body. It's still an amazing dress and one with secrets: The fabric is vong shaped. Glistaweb. The flowing cascades of fabric are little less than body armour.

I wish I had a shawl, as the interior atmosphere of the ship leaves me comfortable, yet slightly chill. My eyes continue to glance outward at the stars, as I speak to Mikhail's mind. 'I'm sorry you hated it, Mikha. I wish I could drift back in time and heal those wounds when they were fresh. So far I can only see the present and fragments of the future. It's not fair, being left hurt, alone and angry in the cold. I can't help you then, but I can be here with you now.'

Maybe this is too much for me. Maybe Coryth was right and I needed to go off with her, spend my life meditating in some boat on Corellia's wide lakes. Maybe I ought to have chased across the skies and made my home in the Sanctum under the guidance of my Master [member="Ilias Nytrau"].

"Hmm? Yeah, Bucket with no head. . . he'd look more like a real bucket then." It barely registers, Mikhail joking about Bucket and Lucien defending my droid. I barely hear Bucket's squalk and it's a bit of a surprise when he backpedals on his foot plates with his hands in the air. "Hey! How'm I gonna defend our fair lady without my head!? I only got one eye, you know! Listen to Lord Cordel, for he is wise and has many butlers to learn from and whiskey and booze to grab for the Suma."

I look over and Lucien's got his feet up, a glass in hand. I lick my lips, all seems right with the denizens of the ship. It won't be long before Lipsec is in view. Lucien's promise that I would get to look the ringleaders in the eye is coming real and as I settle my mind on the justice with which I will dole out, I feel that sandy line drifting toward my toes. I should have known when I left Naboo that there was no going back.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

"When'd you become such a sweetheart?" Shorn asked [member="Lucien Cordel"], frowning. He glanced over at Bucket, who was throwing a fit.

"You know, Lucien hung the last butler of his I met."

He let the droid process that tidbit while he moved toward [member="Anders Sivas"]. Taking Lucien's advice seemed like a good idea. Leanly muscled arms wrapped around her from behind in a comforting embrace.

"Sometimes you're more bipolar than I am," he joked with a wan smile, then he just held her. Sometimes that's all he felt he could do.

 

[Lucien Cordel]

Lucien turned and opened one eye

"I don't know what on earth your talking about old sport, me a sweetheart I think not ... As for the butler the man was a traitor and justice must always be blind"

He felt a twinge of pain, is that what regret felt like, if so he disliked it. He would strive to avoid it in future .

A smile graced his lips as [member="Mikhail Shorn"] whent to [member="Anders Sivas"] , they were good for each other.

Glancing at his watch Lucien noted it was about time he changed into his proper power clothing, from the moment they touched down they would be in a game of high stakes chess where the head of the loser would end on a pole. He also needed to write his list of potential defendants.

"Estimated time of arrival on lipsic is in half an hour" the soft tones of the copilot sounded out over the intercom

"Excuse me" Lucien said softly before retreating from the room

 

[Yasha Cadera]

Bucket balked, or as close as a droid could balk.

"Did you actually hang your butler? It wasn't Sylvester was it? He made the best tea." I blink and gulp at the same time, jarred enough out of my reverie to realize that [member="Mikhail Shorn"] was telling the honest truth. "But Llewyz I can understand. Old coot was downright creepy. It was Llewyz wasn't it?"

Could have been Llewyz' lazy eye. [member="Lucien Cordel"] is smug as ever but there's a dwindling softness in him I take pride in seeing once in those wonderful blue moons. Maybe I am rubbing off on the Fringe as much as it's rubbed off on me. "Half an hour. . . right, you're excused Lucien. Thank you." My back curls into Mikha's chest and I nudge my head onto his shoulder. For several minutes I say nothing, open enough for him to feel how much his simple act is helping stave off my fears. Flat sandals grace my feet today, cinched with a golden metal, the flat sandals keep me an inch or so shorter then Shorn and easier for me to walk in. 'Cause yeah, acting regal and tripping over a four inch heel? Not so much with the good.

Lucien'd get so embarrassed he'd probably have the whole Court killed to cover my trippy tracks. "That's what you get when you date an empath who up until a year ago flipped between personalities like Lucien flitters between staff. . . I'm not used to being the one to enact revenge. It leaves a weird taste in my mouth, but Lucien for all his pomp and dignity is right. It's too strategic to . . . what do I care? I got elected 'cause I liked [member="Kitt Solo"]'s pie. Seriously! I waltzed up there and was all 'dudes! Try this pie it's really good! Oh hey, yeah, I'll um throw parties and stuff', walked off and bam! Congratulations!" I shake my head and shut my eyes, breathing in Mikhail's personal fragrance of pheromones and freshly cleaned shirt. The tension in my muscles spreads thin and drifts off for future pastures.

"I saw this bit. Back before you came and got me I saw the crown fall off the King of Lipsec's head when I put my sight to the Future. It tasted like copper in my mouth. Promise me you won't get hurt. Or if you do get hurt, that you'll be within arm's reach. I can heal you if you're within arm's reach."

Bucket comes walking up and clears its electronic throat. "Time to go."

 

[Lucien Cordel]

Lucien thumbed the corner Of his cravat. A rich red silk held in place by an understated gold pin. He was sporting a black frock coat over which whent a rather flashy chain of office forged from the chains of zaadja , Skye and Valhalla. He looked himself once more in the mirror. The gold was shining, his suit was free of fluff, he was ready. One didn't go to take down a monarch without ensuring they looked their best . He lifted his cane from the umbrella stand by his dressing room door and stepped back into the yachts corridor. The early afternoon sun shine through polished teansparisteel. From now on they would be on show. A roll of names was pressed Into his hand, his assistant lent in close "How may I further aid your grace?" She whispered into his ear pretending to fix a stray hair. Lucien took mere secounds to respond "spark a bread riot In the slum districts, divide the Kings house " then with a smile he swept off down the gangway " Thankyou Silvia you always notices the smallest details you prove once again how indespensible you are"

A soft breeze greeted Lucien. The soft winds that would soon be a gale , the combined wrath of three of the most powerful indeviduals in the unknown regions had just kicked in lipsic a metaphoric door. A cheery looking page boy awaited them along with two rather uninspiring honour guard. The king had made his opening move. "I trust we are not inconveniencing the royal couple too much but his home has become infested with monsters that threaten to affect his demise" the page just smile "Of course not councillor, the king is always pleased to host such prestigious individuals as yourselves" a shame the boy was so nieve, he had no idea of the high stakes game he was involved in. He just smiled as he led them along.

A slip of paper was handed to the herald at the throne room bearing his instructions "His grace Lord Lucien Cordel Lord of Skye,Zaadja and Valhalla, minister for internal affairs upon the fringe high council and hand of justice, accompanied by Her Radiance the Lady Andra Hadar Sivas, High Councillor for Military Affairs of the Fringe Confederation, Consecrated the Fifteenth Vision of the Goddess of Compassion by the Brotherhood of Cognizance, Abhayaradha Princess Emeritus of Theed, daughter of the Honourable Diantha Cynabel Naberrie and sired by the Venerable Baalam Sivas, Lord Sorcerer of the Nihil Retreat and her companion The noble Lord Mikhail Shorn breaker of thrones"

Lucien decended the stairs as the herald finished. The king was on a dais At the end of the room the whole court had turned out. All looking as sour faced as their liege. Lucien began the long walk across the throne room , unfazed by the eyes boring into him. Stoping a few meters short of the dais. He preformed a bow more suited to a theatre than the royal court then stood erect once again.

"I beg you majesties indulgence once again, I wouldn't have troubled you if it were not a crucial matter, we have a list of suspected traitors, their crimes are of the gravest nature all suspected of attempting to assassinate the high council among other heinous transgretions" Lucien puntuated his speech by tossing his list of traitors to the king, sadly it seemed Lucien was a terrible throw that it fell short of the mark. A skeptic might have reasoned it was staged. A servant of the court whent to retrieve it "no" Lucien hissed the list is for the Kings eyes alone. It seemed his majesty would have to knell to get the list. Lucien watched as the king begrudgingly bent over. Once the king was beiond the point of return Lucien lunged forward.

His left hand caught the Kings holding him for a breif moment.
"Your majesties name is third from the top, I'm sure we both pray it is there in error" then Lucien released his grip kissed the Kings ring and Rose. "I can only apologies your highness my arm has been less than perfect since the Valhalla affair"

 

[Lord Ghoul]

“Andra,” her name rolled off his tongue as soft and gentle as a sleeper’s sigh, so different from the words of cold murder that followed, “When it starts, you won’t want to be anywhere near me.”



- - -


No armor, he’d decided. Armor made it look like he thought whatever the King of Lipsec could throw at him was actual threat.

The black leather jacket brought comfortable familiarity and showed just the right amount of disregard for etiquette. See? Who said Mikhail didn’t care about his appearance?

He glanced at Andra as he followed Lucien down the ramp. Did she know why? Did she know that irony of his? That he wanted them to know, when he killed them, how little he cared about killing them.

As he set foot on the planet a flood of memories swarmed at him. Stuff he wished he could just shove in a dark closet at the back of his mind and forget about. The corpses, for they hadn’t decayed to full skeletons yet, throttled his mind with images of Andra with blood soaking her front. Jared stared blankly, intestines peeking out of a fist-sized hole in his stomach. And Anaya was there too. Had he really forgotten about her? The old rage came back. Anger at her being such a deceitful queen… and anger that he owed her his life on more than one occasional. Damn lethan.

He tried to suppress the feral memories, which was hard because the next several moments were incredible boring. Nobles and their quibbling. Shorn watched Lucien’s political maneuvering with disgust written plainly on his pale features. He’d watched his father run through these same little games. More memories. Casperli’s broken body splayed over a broken chair. Thronebreaker beats garhoon.

Cold eyes of a disinterested blue roved the court. He could break them all the same way, snap their bodies like twigs. It’d been a long while since he’d heard the sound of snapping bone. Would it be as satisfying as he remembered? All he had to do was reach out… The miasma of aphotic energy roared into him. Before he knew what he was doing he’d stretched out to wrap a telekinetic hand around one of the courtiers.

Andra’s presence burned at his side.

He stopped, eyes wide with the sort of look that got people killed.

The telekinetic hand evaporated.

Fine.

“Oh for kriff’s sake,” he said, voice high and snide, “Just beat the hell out of him and get it over with.”

[member="Lucien Cordel"] [member="Anders Sivas"]

 

[Yasha Cadera]

"The king is mine. Both of you remember, the king is mine." Andra shook. The glistaweb fabric of her dress shimmered against her fragile ivory skin. Mikhail bit her neck in this dress. He hadn't realized the fabric was Vong shaped, an armour without the panels of metal and hide. Bucket stood to Andra's back, faithful and polished. She pulled a bolstering confidence into her spine. It was Lucien's confidence. "A-alright, Mikha. When this starts, you get your space."

They walked in and she held her head high as she was announced. The king gulped. Had he known who he was assaulting in that room? When his scientists pumped the place full of a psychotropic love drug? Inhibitions week horrible things to untie. As they walked, Andra's mental powers flooded the crowd. The courtiers stopped their twittering. Their eyes peered between the three Force-Bound Masters and one by one their knees knocked. They all collectively fell to their knees before the shimmering, radiant vision of a goddess none in this place believed in. They would now. Andra's skin luminesced in wafting curls, the dress billowing in a tender floral breeze. Once Lucien was finished talking, Andra stepped forward.

"A long life to you, King of Lipsec. A long life to your house. The Goddess of Compassion wishes all to dwell in the safety of her embrace." Her fingers shook. She pulled her hands into white knuckled fists. "You, Infinitesimal Monarch, caused the death of my son." The room became a distillery of disquiet. The courtiers burst into cries and tears and sobs as the lot had their minds swollen and bent with Andra's displaced emotion. She snapped her fingers.

The room fell silent, tears streaming down guilty faces. The king stared. "And I am here to give you a gift. Before his spirit ascended to the Godess' encompassing arms, my son's future was given me. His entire lifespan played out in seconds and I, proud parent, was allowed the story of his time which would have been. To you, oh king. To you I give the gift of my son's memory. May you live long within it."

A brown haired boy with caramel eyes laughed into the room, running toward the king. His face changed, he grinned and laughed in the Mentalist's thrall. The illusion of the boy tore into all the minds present, he threw his arms around the king's neck and kissed him, before turning to glance back at his grieving mother.

Andra's neck was taught. The courtiers in her mental thrall began to whimper and wail, clawing at their clothing and groaning into each others' backs and sides. Andra's arms shook. She stared at the vision playing out. The boy aged before his 'father', becoming a strong backed proud son. Then, as the king felt his pride complete, there was a knife in his hands. The king struggled and screamed, voice bubbling over and over as he fought with his grip on the blade. The grown boy went to embrace his father, and took. knife deep in his gut. His mouth spewed with blood. He stumbled and fell. The king screamed, trying to go to his son, trying to apologize, to staunch the blood. It was no avail. Andra walked nearer and nearer the king, walked through the live illusion and grabbed the king by the jaw.

"For the rest of your confounded life you will live this day. You will wake in the morning to your only newborn son and you will put your head down at night to the grief of causing his passing. You will wake and remember. You will experience this as reality. Every. Day. Of. Your. Life. You will love him, you will lose him, you will grieve him. And when you cannot take the pain, when you put a blaster to your head or a knife to your heart, the memory will pass to your children and to their children until your miserable family line will cease barren and childless. Your cousins will weep for my son. Your grandparents will rest Ill in their graves. And you, oh you will outlive all mercies. This I promise you. Tell me, your majesty, was it worth the cost? Was your pride worth the death of my boy?"

She gasped and released the sobbing king, her eyes red rimmed and spine straight and tall. "If I were merciful, I would leave you to Mikhail."

A young toddling boy with brown hair and caramel eyes ran into the throne room, raising his chubby arms for his daddy. The king's face screwed in a mask of agony and affection. He reached out to put his arms around the boy.

Andra was transfixed in the spot, her body flexed in a desperate, agonizing revenge. She could barely breathe, she didn't know if her feet had been planted in the ground.

 

[Lucien Cordel]

Lucien watched blank as the king slumped in tears a broken boy lay dead in his arms. Courtiers were screaming and gaurds were advancing. "His imperial majesty is very sick, someone has poisoned him ... The royal family must be confined to their quarters ... " his voice laced heavily with the force. He stepped up onto the dais " the venom in lipsic's blood runs deeper than I thought, your king has been sick but lady sivas has given him what he needs" A calm swept over the room and the gaurds stopped the tears of the cortiers were stemmed only the Kings wails punctuated the air. "The court is under my protection all of the gaurds are to be confined to their barracks my forces will replace them on the wall as it were" he smiled as gaurds were brought from the throne room , then whent the royal family. Lucien handed his list to the herald, "the following people are at risk they must remain here the rest are to go home immediately"

The names were read and people left leaving only five indeviduals. Lucien stepped down and crossed the hall "the courtiers are yours Lord shorn , I have problems to solve "