Private The Art of the Apology

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Royal Palace, Naboo
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian was never one for patience. It had been a full week since the storm, a week since he'd come so close to losing it all; her trust, her belief, her. The silence that followed had been more agonizing than any scolding. He'd found weak excuses to linger near her offices, to pass through corridors where she might be, to pretend to pore over council drafts just to catch the sound of her voice through a half-open door. But the right words, the ones that mattered, simply wouldn't come.

So this morning, he'd decided on a different approach, a strategy of sorts, or at least what passed for one. He decided to bring her caf first, hot and strong, just the way she liked it. He opted to carry it himself, rather than delegate the gesture to an aide who might botch it. Next, flowers. That had been Tona's idea, a suggestion Aurelian had grudgingly accepted after a good deal of scoffing, followed by a quiet, desperate plea: "Just make sure they're the right ones." He'd settled on pale purple lilies, native to Naboo, a symbol of forgiveness, if his memory served him right. He truly hoped she'd notice them. He hoped she'd care.

He finally spotted her in the palace courtyard, the morning sun bathing the stone arches in a warm glow, her hair dancing in the breeze. The sight of her sent a familiar, almost painful clench through his chest. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and prepared to deploy his last remaining weapon: his smile. It was a dangerous, disarming thing, seldom entirely sincere, yet for her, it felt almost genuine.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, not really waiting for an answer as he slid into the seat opposite her. He placed the coffee down first, then the flowers, handling them with a carefulness that felt like an offering before a judgment. When she remained silent, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, his best attempt at "Sorry I almost murdered your brother."

The breeze whispered between them, carrying the faint, sweet scent of distant gardens. Aurelian's voice softened almost imperceptibly. "I've come bearing peace offerings; and the solemn promise that I'm trying my very best to be better." He tilted his head, a half-grin breaking through despite himself. "Progress, wouldn't you say?"

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[Sibylla Abrantes]

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Location: The ball is in your court!
Tags: Aurelian Veruna

The garden had never felt so hollow.

The hum of the fountains, the trill of the songbirds, even the faint stir of wind threading through the willow boughs did little to ease the noise in Sibylla's mind. It was always like this when her temper was forced to silence and her diplomacy stretched to its limit. The day's council still lingered on her tongue like acid.

Lord Farquad. His name alone made her jaw tighten. His offer, no, his suggestion that she depose the King in favor of her own crown had been an act of sedition so galling it had nearly earned him a public reprimand.

Nearly.

But she had smiled, smiled as only a Nabooan royal could, and redirected his treachery into an innocuous discussion on waterways. That was what her father had taught her, after all. Turn venom into reason. Let fools reveal themselves through civility.

And yet, even after all that composure, she found herself here, sitting among the lilies and the quiet, her pulse still quickened with anger.

Quiet. Too quiet.

The kind of quiet that wasn't peace but absence.

It had been a week since she last saw him.

Aurelian Veruna. King of Naboo, interim Chancellor of the Republic, walking contradiction of grandeur and chaos. For a man so loud in life, so full of words, wit, and presence, he had become a ghost these past days. No teasing remarks between meetings, no impromptu invitations to ride, no sly glances over datapads when he thought she wasn't looking. Just… emptiness.

It shouldn't have bothered her. He was busy. She was busy. The galaxy was burning. But still, she missed him.

Perhaps that was the most dangerous thought of all.

She sighed, her gaze slipping across the marble archways and out to the horizon, where the sun struck the surface of the lake in gilded gold shards. And just as she was about to stand a shadow crossed her periphery.

At first she thought she had imagined it. Then he was there.

Aurelian Veruna. In her garden.

Her breath caught somewhere between disbelief and relief in missing him. His presence was so sudden, so absurdly casual, that her mind stuttered to catch up as he slid into the chair across from her, placing before her two things she hadn't expected: a steaming cup of caf, and a bouquet of pale purple lilies.

Forgiveness in the language of flowers.

She blinked, once, twice, before her eyes flicked to his face. All of the bruises along his nose had faded, and all that remained were just the faintest scar on his lip as a remnant of that night. He smiled then, that dangerously boyish smile of his, and for one reckless heartbeat, her irritation melted into something softer.

The pads of her fingers brushed against the warm ceramic of the caf cup, then the delicate petals of the lilies. They were trembling slightly in the breeze or perhaps it was her hand.

When she finally spoke, it was in a low, if slightly tinged with amusement, despite herself.

"A solemn promise," she echoed, lifting her gaze to meet his. "I dare say that is the first promise you've ever prefaced with such a word."

A dark brow arched lightly, the corners of her lips tugging into something that wasn't quite a smile but wasn't far from it either.

"So tell me then," she continued, studying him as though weighing both the man and his intent. "What does a solemn promise to be better entail?"

It wasn't said cruelly. There was no venom, no barbed politicking, just the quiet, pointed question of a woman who had weathered too much uncertainty to accept empty words.

She wanted to hear his plan.

Because behind her quiet voice, her heart still ached with the memory of blood soaking the ground, the knife in Cassian's ribs, and the bloody, swollen, and bruised face of Aurelian.

And yet, she hoped. Against all sense and history, she still hoped.

And was listening.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Just look at the curls
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian watched her fingers brush over the petals, delicate and slow, and something in his chest eased, if only barely. He'd half-expected her to throw the flowers in his face, or worse, ignore him altogether. Instead, she was listening. That alone felt like mercy.

Her tone, though soft, carried the same precision he'd come to dread and admire. "What does a solemn promise entail?" He leaned back slightly, feigning thoughtfulness, his grin curling with its usual hint of mischief. "Well," he began, "for one, it means I solemnly promise not to attack another Abrantes brother." A beat of silence followed, during which he immediately realized that might've been a tactical misstep.

"Too soon?" he added, grimacing playfully. Her brow arched, and he could almost feel her disapproval through the sunlight between them. He held up a hand, his smirk softening into something closer to sincerity. "Alright. Bad start."

He took a breath, the words that came next quieter, steadier. "It means I'm trying, Sibylla. I'm trying to be less of a disaster, and to actually be worthy of the faith you've shown in me, your trust and support." His gaze lifted to meet hers, the amber edge of his irises catching the light. "I don't want to waste that." The air between them thickened, weighted, charged with all the things left unsaid.

"I'll still stumble," he admitted, fingers drumming idly on the table before stilling. "Anger doesn't vanish overnight. But I'll try not to let it own me anymore, not when I've seen what it costs." His voice lowered, almost swallowed by the hum of the fountain behind them. "You make me want to be better than I am, Sibylla. A better leader, a better man."

He paused, watching her carefully. "So maybe the promise is solemn, and foolishly hopeful too," he said with a small, crooked smile. "But if it's enough to make you believe in me again, then I'll take that." He nudged the caf gently toward her.

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[Sibylla Abrantes]

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Location: Those damn curls!
Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla listened.

Not idly, not absentmindedly, but with the full focus of someone who had learned how to read every word, every breath, every small, betraying flicker of expression. She'd spent years deciphering the theater of politics, and Aurelian Veruna was perhaps the finest performer she'd ever met.

And blast him, he knew it.

It was how he leaned back just so, his tone shifting between jest and sincerity with practiced ease, and Shiraya help her, she could see exactly what he was doing. Deploying every weapon in his arsenal, his maddening grin, his posture, his voice, his impossible, infuriating charm.

Aurelian made her want to smile even when she should have frowned.

He made her want to forgive when she should have demanded more.

Blast it all, he even had the gall to sit there with the sun catching his hair at the perfect angle, curls stirring in the wind before falling across his brow like he'd rehearsed it. Even she couldn't help how her fingers twitched in protest as she continued to brush them lightly over the lilies, their velvety petals her only defense.

Keep your hands busy, she told herself, or you'll reach for him.

Shiraya, she wanted to reach for him.

Even when he made his ill timed joke about attacking her brother, she felt her brows arching before she could stop them, her composure wavering between incredulous disapproval and reluctant amusement. It was just so him, to twist remorse into humor, to lace apology with laughter, as though disarming her with levity could undo the weight of blood and consequence.

And yet, when his voice softened, when his tone turned into something more genuine, so did something in her.

There it was. That small thread of truth running beneath all the performative polish. The earnestness that flickered like a fragile light behind his eyes. The part of him that wasn't the King or the charming rake or the silver tongued Veruna heir, but the man she had glimpsed beneath all of that. The one who was trying. The one who meant it.

It didn't erase what had happened. It couldn't. But it was a start.

As he spoke, admitting that anger still lingered, that he was trying not to let it own him, Sibylla felt something in her chest unclench. That he was choosing to try at all, to be better, to be worthy of trust, meant more than any grand apology could.

And he was right. Anger never vanished overnight. It took choice after choice, day after day.

When he finally nudged the caf toward her, she released the flowers and accepted it, the warmth of the mug bleeding into her fingers as she took a long intake of breath before releasing it. She then brought the mug up and took a sip, and despite herself a faint smile curved her lips.

"Just how I like it," she murmured, before glancing up at him. Her hazel eyes softened as she looked at him though the wryness in her tone remained.

"You really went above and beyond for this, Aurelian. Flowers, caf, charm offensive included. One might think you were trying to win me over."

Full lips quirked as a quiet tease lingered there, though the truth of her next words cut closer to the bone.

"And here I was beginning to think you were avoiding me. I thought we'd agreed to meet at least once a week."

More than that, they'd seen each other nearly every day before his silence. That absence had gnawed at her more than she cared to admit, stirring worries she couldn't quite voice. Ace's bitterness had already left its mark; she couldn't bear to lose another person she cared about.

Much less, someone she knew now she felt far more than friendship for.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Hey you. Yeah you. The one reading this post. Like the post if you read it. Trying to get my reaction score up. Thank you.
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian couldn't help but smile as she spoke. Her wit was sharp, yet tempered by composure, her voice a perfect balance of challenge and grace. She was radiant, especially when she teased him.

"Trying to win you over?" he echoed, tilting his head as if he had to think about it. "Sibylla, I'm always trying to win you over. Every hour, it seems, every time I breathe." He huffed a soft laugh, leaning forward on his elbows

Her eyes glinted, and he ached, missing that specific look, the warmth and quiet spark it held. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his tone softening. "I wasn't avoiding you," he said. "Quite the opposite, actually. I wanted to see you, to talk to you, every single day."

He hesitated, a rare moment of naked honesty. "But I thought maybe you needed your space. After what happened, I didn't want to crowd you or force forgiveness that hadn't settled yet." His mouth curved into a rueful grin. "Turns out, giving you space was a spectacularly miserable decision. I spent a week pacing the palace like a lovesick idiot, annoying half the guard with my sighing." He leaned closer, his voice dropping, the teasing lilt returning. "You should've seen it, Sibylla. Tragic, really. I might've even brooded by the window once or twice, complete with dramatic lighting and a storm in the distance. All that was missing was your voice telling me you told me so."

Her fingers still toyed with the rim of her cup, and he caught her gaze again. "So," he said, letting the mischief creep back in, "tell me, what did I miss in my week of self-imposed exile? I assume the court hasn't collapsed without me, though I'm sure it was far less charming." Then, softer, "And I missed that smile more than I'd like to admit. So, if there's a price for earning it again, I'll pay it. Happily."

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