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?"

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

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.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

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."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Reading between the lines....and okay, you were right -- again.
Aurelian Veruna

For all her resolve to treat this as a serious conversation, Sibylla could feel her composure begin to crack at the edges.

Always trying to win you over.
Wanted to see you every single day.
A lovesick idiot.
Missed that smile.

The words lingered teasing the air between them long after he'd said them. She could feel the faint heat crawl into her cheeks as her heart gave a hopeful start and she silently cursed Shiraya for giving Aurelian Veruna that voice, that grin, that impossible ability to turn sincerity into something that could undo her with a heartbeat.

Still, she reminded herself this was meant to be a serious conversation. Only, serious conversations with Aurelian rarely stayed that way for long. Especially not when he looked at her like that. Especially not when she could feel the truth in his tone, the unguarded sincerity behind the teasing.

Perhaps… maybe… he did feel something more. He had made passing references before, but never said aloud what it was that he truly felt.

She took a quiet breath, lifting her caf again to keep her hands busy as that nervous edge crept in.

"Yes, well," she began carefully, "I am glad you considered my feelings and gave me the space I needed."

Her voice softened slightly as she went on.

"It was, perhaps, for the best. It allowed my mind to settle, to think." The words were honest, though she could hear the faint edge of nervousness in them. "I had a long conversation with Cassian about it as well."

That had not been an easy one. But it had been necessary -- for both of them.

She set her cup down gently, her fingers lingering on the rim as though weighing what to say next.

"I'll review what has occurred at court soon enough," she continued, collecting herself to focus on the important matters first. What Aurelian deserved to hear at a minimum. "But before that, I want to address my part in what happened back on Kenari."

Sooty black lashes lifted so that her hazel gaze met his.

"I know that it was the extent of my injuries that caused you to become infuriated to begin with. You were angry with me, and I understand that. Things escalated to a degree I did not expect."

She drew in a slow breath, letting the garden's quiet settle around her words.

"The matter made me reflect on how I can best assist moving forward -- how I can be useful without throwing myself into situations I am not trained for unless it is absolutely necessary. I have been thinking carefully about where my strengths truly lie, and I intend to use them wisely."

There was a pause, a softer note slipping into her voice as her eyes flickered over his face, studying him with quiet fondness.

"And while I appreciate your… lovesick pacing of the palace halls," she said, her lips twitching faintly despite her best efforts to remain composed, "you should know that your absence was felt here too."

The pads of her fingers brushed the side of her mug once more in a slow and deliberate motion to keep them in place.

"So perhaps next time, we find a balance between too much space… and too little."

Her smile finally surfaced then, the warmth of amusement shining in her eyes.

"After all, I would hate for the guards to suffer through another week of your tragic brooding."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Apology Accepted?
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian's grin broke through almost immediately. It was a mix of relief and amusement, and entirely her fault. "You do realize," he said quietly, "that every time you speak like that, calm, measured, wise, it only makes me feel guiltier about being the dramatic one."

He leaned back slightly, a rueful breath leaving him. "You're right, though. It isn't fair, Sibylla. You shouldn't have to keep putting yourself in those positions. You don't need to throw yourself into danger to prove anything to anyone." His gaze softened. "But I am glad you're thinking about your limits. I know that isn't easy for you."

For a moment, the charm gave way to something quieter, something real. "I shouldn't have let my anger get the best of me," he admitted, his words low and steady. "I should've just spoken to you, expressed my frustrations rationally. That's... not exactly the model of level-headed leadership, is it?" His mouth curved into a faint smirk. "Though in my defense, Cassian's face does invite it."

Then the mischief slipped back into his tone. "But, if you ever do feel like getting into a fight again…" He leaned in slightly, his grin returning in full force. "I'm always free to roll around with you. Strictly professional, of course." He let the silence stretch just long enough for the meaning to sink in before chuckling under his breath, lifting a hand in mock surrender. "Too soon again, I know."

"Balance, then," he echoed, his voice softening as the humor faded. "That sounds like something I can manage. Tona would be thrilled to hear that, by the way. I nearly drove her mad this week asking when I should approach you. Whether Cordé thought it was the right moment. If the flowers were too much. If the caf was too cold." He gave a helpless shrug. "Apparently, I'm not as composed as I like to think. Not when it comes to you."

A moment passed, filled with the low rustle of the courtyard breeze. Then, slowly, deliberately, Aurelian reached across the table and took her hand. His thumb brushed lightly across her knuckles, his voice dropping to something quiet and unguarded. "It was a very stressful week, Sibylla," he murmured, eyes locked on hers. "I'll try not to have another like it."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Those damn curls.
Aurelian Veruna

It was apparent that Aurelian's charm had once again succeeded in continuing to coax Sibylla's smile to the surface, pulling her heart in opposing directions that were as exasperating as they were endearing.

Really, no man had any right to wield such power with nothing more than a grin and a head of artfully disheveled curls.

Still, as their conversation drifted into more serious ground, Sibylla found herself settling into the quiet understanding that there were no innocent parties in what had transpired. They had all played their parts in that night's disaster, each mistake rippling into the next like falling dominoes.

Now and then, though, his comments forced her to straddle that impossible line between laughter and disbelief. How could one man provoke such contradictory emotions at once?

Only Shiraya knew.

It was a small mercy she had just finished her sip of caf when he made that remark about being 'free to roll around' with her in a fight -- strictly professional, of course. The image it conjured nearly made her choke. She fought to compose herself, setting the cup down as her mind betrayed her with the scene he'd painted in light ot the last time they fought on the mat and how it had felt to -- no, do not dare go there, Sibylla.

"You do realize," she finally managed to choke out, telling herself to shove any wandering thoughts from her mind, caught between flustered amusement and disbelief, "that your definition of 'professional' seems to grow looser by the hour?"

Even then, the glare she shot him was meant to scold, but the small quirk at the corner of her mouth gave her away. He knew exactly what he was doing, and she knew it too.

Yes, this was what she had missed. His ridiculous, impossible, utterly maddening self that could make her want to laugh one moment and smack his shoulder the next.

"If this is what your guilt looks like," she murmured, lips curving in wry amusement, "I'm almost afraid to imagine your sincerity."

Her words softened as his hand closed around hers. She gave a gentle squeeze in return, feeling that quiet warmth spread through her chest. Even the simplest touch steadied her. But as the breeze shifted through the courtyard, tugging his dark curls over his brow, that familiar, aching urge to brush them back rose again.

For a moment, she said nothing, simply looked at him -- at the hard, elegant lines of his face, the rare vulnerability softening his amber eyes, the quiet earnestness that lingered between them.

Then, with a faint smile, she spoke.

"Apology accepted."

A breath later, she let out a small, self-conscious laugh, her free hand brushing absently over the lilies.

Finally, that tawny gaze returned to his, steady and searching.

"You say it was a stressful week," she said quietly. "Was it only guilt you felt… or something else too?"

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location:
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian nearly lost it when she almost choked on her caf. The sight of Sibylla Abrantes, composed and unflappable, fighting not to laugh, was a gift from Shiraya herself. He leaned back in his chair, eyes bright with mischief, a grin threatening to split his face. "Shiraya, I missed that," he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "And for the record," he added, lips curving into a lazy smile, "my definition of professional only gets looser by the hour with you. Wait until you see how unprofessional I can be."

Her glare should've withered him on the spot, but it only made him want to grin harder. There was a spark in her eyes now, a flicker of something alive, mischievous even, and he couldn't help the warmth that swelled in his chest. She was getting used to him. Worse (or better), she was starting to play along.

Her words, "Apology accepted," landed softer than he expected. The tension in his shoulders eased, the knot of guilt loosening just enough for him to breathe again. "That," he said with a sigh of exaggerated relief, "might be the single most beautiful phrase I've ever heard."

He turned her hand gently in his, tracing idle circles against her palm with his thumb. The courtyard breeze stirred again, carrying the scent of lilies between them. "I won't stop trying to make it up to you, though," he added, voice dipping lower, sincere. "Not until I know I've done it properly."

But then her question came, soft, measured, carefully placed. Was it only guilt… or something else too?

For a moment, Aurelian stilled. The easy humor on his face flickered, something more fragile threading through his expression. He looked at her, really looked, and for once, didn't bother hiding the truth behind a grin.

"Guilt, yes," he admitted quietly. He exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing the back of her hand. "Longing. Desire. Loneliness. Take your pick."

His gaze held hers, unguarded now, the amber in his eyes catching the light. "You know how important you are in my life, Sibylla. When you're gone, it's like…" He hesitated, then let the smallest, crooked smile return. "Like a piece of me's gone with you. And I'm not quite myself until you're back."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Twisting me in knots.
Aurelian Veruna

Goddess, it was hard not to keep laughing or toss out a quip in response to his rubbish.

"Then just what is unprofessional for you?" Sibylla asked, rolling her eyes even as her lips twitched. That lazy grin of his lingered like a challenge across the table. "Especially after claiming your definition of professional was already falling apart in my presence."

And Shiraya, that smile. That half-grin that looked like it knew exactly what effect it had on her.

Still, hearing Aurelian admit that he would keep trying to make it up to her tugged at something deep in her chest, a quiet ache that wanted to assure him he didn't need to try so hard.

"You don't have to keep atoning for it, Aurelian," she said softly. "You just need to keep becoming the man you want to be."

Yet somehow, he only kept twisting her in knots.

It didn't help that his thumb traced slow, unconscious circles against her skin, each one threatening to scatter her thoughts entirely. Nor did it help that when he answered her question, his gaze held hers with a softness she wasn't prepared for that was warm, unguarded, and utterly disarming. Her heart stuttered before she could stop it. Shiraya, he was impossible.

Completely and utterly impossible.

She tried to focus on her caf instead, the warmth seeping through the cup, the small comfort of her fingers tracing the rim. Anything to stop the rush of thoughts his words had stirred in her. Longing. Desire. Loneliness.

The way he said them had unsettled her in the best and worst of ways.

And when he added that a piece of him was gone when she wasn't near, her heart tripped again.

For a few seconds, she could only look at him, the impossible man sitting across from her, sunlight tangled in his curls, sincerity glinting in his eyes like gold catching fire.

"When you say things like that," she murmured quietly, "it becomes very difficult to keep pretending this is just friendship, or politics, or duty."

Because the truth was, he was making her wonder if she wanted something more than all of that.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: More than friends?
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian's brows shot up, feigning a perfect mix of scandal and delight. "Unprofessional to me?" he repeated, hand pressed to his chest as though Shiraya had accused him of treason. "Shiraya, Sibylla, you can't just ask a man that sort of question in public. What if someone heard?"

His sharp, boyish grin gave him away; he was far too pleased with himself. He let the words hang between them for a beat, the laughter in his eyes softening into something more dangerous. "Besides," he added, his voice dropping lower, "isn't it more fun if you just… find out with time?"

Before she could fire back, he shifted. The chair legs scraped softly against the stone as he stood, circled the table, and came to stand beside her. Sunlight caught in his curls as he leaned against the edge, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his skin, the faint scent of spice and rain that clung to him after a long day. He looked down at her, the ghost of that impossible grin tugging at his mouth.

He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered, the motion more intimate than deliberate. He tilted his head, his eyes tracing her features with unguarded warmth: admiration, affection, and something unspoken simmering beneath it all.

For a heartbeat, his expression flickered, open and unarmored. Then the grin returned, slower this time, deliberate. He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper, breath brushing her skin. "This," he said, eyes locked on hers, "is a really... really... good friendship."

The air between them tightened, heavy with something neither wanted to name. His smile turned wickedly charming. "Would you disagree?" He didn't move away. He let the silence stretch, his thumb tracing a lazy line along her jaw before he pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.

"I would sure hope this was more than politics and duty," he murmured, his grin curving wider. "Do you feel obligated to entertain my trouble and mischief?"

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Breathless
Aurelian Veruna

Theatrics. Pure, dramatic, utterly maddening theatrics.

Full lips twitched before Sibylla could stop them, caught between exasperation and amusement at the insufferable blend of scandal and delight playing across Aurelian's face.

But one second, he was all mock scandal, his hand pressed to his chest like some melodramatic holodrama lead, and the next, he was standing, sunlight pooling around him as if even the gods conspired to frame his arrogance and curls in gold. His grin carried that maddening confidence that made her both want to laugh and strangle him in equal measure.

And then he moved closer.

The scrape of the chair against stone was soft, almost innocent, but the sound still made her pulse jump. Her composure wavered the instant he leaned against the table beside her, his presence crowding the air in a way that felt dangerously familiar. That faint scent of spice and rain lingered on him, different but still similar to the peaches and lavender citrus from his cologne that she remembered from the masquerade, when the world had blurred and he had kissed her under the weight of starlight and shadows.

Shiraya help her, she remembered everything.

The warmth of his breath. The sound of his voice just before he closed the distance. The way her heart had forgotten reason entirely.
And now, he was doing it again. Using that charm like a weapon, smiling that infuriating smile as his fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, making her breath hitch and her pulse race beneath his touch.

Then he said it.

This is a really... really... good friendship.

He wasn't just teasing her. He was repeating her own words back, twisting them into something that made her skin hum. The air between them grew heavy, her breath catching as she thought, far too vividly, of the moments when what passed between them had been anything but friendship.

She certainly never acted this way with any other friend. And yet, the thought that maybe Aurelian did -- that this teasing, this closeness, wasn't just hers -- sent a sharp, unwelcome surge of irritation through her chest.

For one impossible heartbeat, she simply stared, caught between irritation and laughter, desire and disbelief.

"If this is a really, really, good friendship, I'm almost afraid to ask what you do to people you actually like," she said, her tone deceptively light.

Her pulse refused to calm as she tilted her head slightly, her gaze flicking toward his hand still so near her jaw. Instead, her lips curved just slightly, a smirk laced with mischief and certainty alike.

"Obligated?" she echoed, hazel eyes holding amber, steady, defiant, and just a little breathless. "Shiraya, no. I can handle your mischief just fine. But if this were only politics, I'd have slapped that grin off your face hours ago."

She shot back, one brow lifting in challenge, refusing to let him win the exchange.

"And for the record," she said, tipping her face up as her fingers slipped into his dark curls, finally giving in to the closeness he so shamelessly invited, before letting her palm sail down to cup his cheek, "for a man who's admitted never being good at keeping things professional with me… it's nearly impossible, Aurelian, to tell where professionalism ends and mischief begins with you. You revel in it."

And Shiraya help her, so did she.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Complete Mischief
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian laughed under his breath, a soft sound utterly undone by her. The sound slipped out before he could stop it, rough at the edges, the kind that came from deep in his chest. "Nearly impossible?" he echoed, that dangerous smile curving slow and deliberate.

He didn't step back. If anything, he leaned in just enough for the sunlight to catch his hair and turn the edges of his grin to gold. Her hand still cupped his cheek, warm and steady, her fingers brushing the curls at his temple. He tilted his head slightly into her touch, the faintest surrender, though if she called him on it, he'd deny it without hesitation.

"Careful," he murmured, voice low and threaded with something softer than mischief, "if you touch me like that, I might start thinking you do actually like me."

It was a tease, but the look in his eyes betrayed more than he meant to show. There was tension there, but something steadier beneath it. Something that saw her, past the banter, past the pride. He'd faced generals, senators, assassins, yet never once felt this unguarded. With her hand against his skin, the entire world seemed to narrow to the inches between them.

He reached down, slow and careful, his fingers brushing over hers before tracing down her wrist. "You make it sound as though professionalism ever stood a chance," he said, lips curving into that roguish half-smile again.

He leaned closer, their foreheads nearly touching now, his voice dropping to a whisper that hummed between them. "Tell me, Sibylla," his eyes flicked to her lips, then back, "if this isn't friendship, and it's not politics, what is it?"

His thumb brushed a slow line along her jaw, down to the pulse fluttering in her throat. "Because I'm starting to think you want something far more dangerous."

He smiled then, soft and infuriating, and pulled back just enough to let her breathe again. "And don't tell me I revel in mischief," he added, tone playful again, "when you're the one who just put her hand in my hair."

The glint in his eyes was pure challenge. "You see, Sibylla, I think you enjoy this far more than you'd like to admit." He leaned in one last time, close enough that his breath brushed her ear, the words almost a dare. "But don't worry," he whispered, his grin audible in his tone, "I'm very patient. I can wait until you're ready to say it first."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Game of Nuna
Aurelian Veruna

For a moment, Sibylla forgot how to breathe.

The teasing lilt of his voice, the warmth of his hand against hers, the sunlight threading through his hair; everything about him seemed deliberately crafted to test her restraint. Indeed, Aurelian Veruna was temptation in its most maddening form.

She felt her heart give a traitorous flutter when he leaned in, close enough that the faint brush of his breath grazed her ear. The air between grew with the kind of electricity that could burn if she let it. She swallowed hard, collecting herself, though her pulse had other ideas.

And then he said it. If this isn't friendship, and it's not politics, what is it? I'm starting to think you want something far more dangerous.

Her lips parted, then curved into the smallest, knowing smile. Of course, he'd turn it back on her. That was his game -- always pressing, always circling, always waiting for her to flinch first.

But she didn't.

Instead, she let her breath slip out in a slow exhale, tilting her head just slightly so that her following words brushed warmly against his cheek.

"Then what would be far more dangerous?" she asked, her tone deceptively soft, curious, but laced with quiet challenge.

It was then that her hand began to trace a slow, deliberate line along the stubble there before her fingers slipped lower to trace lightly under his chin.

"Because it seems to me," she murmured, "that for someone who calls me mischievous, you rather enjoy it when I touch you like this."

Bold words hung there, her eyes catching his as her thumb grazed the edge of his grin, daring him to deny it.

"But don't worry, Aurelian," she added, her voice lowering, the ghost of amusement tugging at her lips as she once again used his own words against him. "I'm very patient. I can wait until you're ready to say it first."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Turn up the HEAT
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

For a heartbeat, Aurelian forgot how to smirk. Her words landed like a feint he hadn't seen coming, quiet and devastatingly precise. He felt her fingers trail down his jaw, the faint scrape of her nail against the stubble, and his pulse betrayed him, quick and sharp beneath her touch. Shiraya, she's good. His grin returned, slower this time, curling at the edges like smoke.

"You see," he murmured, voice dropping to something rich and unhurried, "that's exactly what I mean."

He didn't move away. Instead, he shifted closer, barely a breath between them now, every movement deliberate and magnetic. His hand rose to catch hers before it could retreat, his thumb brushing across her knuckles. The contact sparked something low and hot in his chest.

"Dangerous," he continued softly, eyes locked on hers, "is what happens when you stop pretending that this is a game." His gaze dipped briefly to her lips before dragging back up, slow enough to make his meaning impossible to mistake. "When you stop teasing and start admitting what's been simmering between us for a while now."

He could feel her breath now, light and uneven. The way her pulse raced beneath his fingertips made something in him twist with hunger. She was every contradiction he craved: elegant and fierce, infuriatingly composed even as he saw her fighting the same gravity that pulled him in.

"Because the truth is," he went on, his tone low and steady, "I do enjoy it when you touch me like that." The admission came without hesitation, honest and unguarded in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

He tilted his head, brushing his temple against hers, the motion light as breath. "Tell me," he whispered, his grin turning sharp again, "if I'm the one who enjoys it, why are you still this close?"

He didn't wait for her to answer. His thumb traced the edge of her lower lip, a fleeting touch that left heat in its wake. "You keep saying patience, Sibylla," he murmured, voice husky with the strain of restraint, "but I think we're both running out of it."

The moment stretched, suspended between daring and surrender. His eyes softened, the mischief giving way to something rawer. "Still," he added with a low laugh that broke the tension just enough to let them both breathe again, "if you insist on playing the long game, I can promise you this."

He leaned in, his lips a whisper from hers, the sunlight turning his smile to molten gold. "You'll lose first."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Who is playing the long game now?
Aurelian Veruna

For a heartbeat, Sibylla forgot the world around them existed.

The courtyard, the fountains, the afternoon light, they all faded beneath the press of Aurelian's proximity, the rough rasp of his voice coiling over her.

Dangerous, he called it.

The meaning was impossible to mistake, and when he brushed his temple against hers, her breath hitched despite herself, the faintest tremor betraying the composure she fought so desperately to hold. And when his gaze flicked to her lips, they parted with a breath. She wanted to kiss him to close the distance and draw him close to her, even as he asked the most ridiculous question.

Why are you still this close?

Her pulse leapt at the question. And when his thumb traced along her lower lip, her composure very nearly fractured altogether, the contact sending an involuntary shiver racing down her spine. He was right: patience was slipping, unraveling thread by thread with every word he spoke, with every look he dared to give her.

Truth be told, he was right. This time, when he pushed for an answer, she knew exactly what he meant. It wasn't like the months passed in his office after Wielu, when he accused her of toying with him, and she had been too confused to understand.

Now, she did.

What frustrated her was that for all his charm and the endless back and forth, he still didn't seem to see it. But as her other hand came up to cup his face, she realized perhaps there was a reason for that. His wit, his teasing, even this elaborate apology were his armor. The pieces of a man who had learned to survive by never letting himself be truly seen.

He wanted to hear it because admitting it first and being wrong would wreck him.

You'll be the death of me, he had said once. So if he wanted honesty, she would give it to him again.

"Why are you asking why I am still this close?" she asked at last in a soft, breathless query, the corner of her lips curving upward just so, even as her eyes seemed to soften and the mischief waned.

"I told you already. Or did you not hear it?" Her thumbs brushed along the sharp arch of his cheekbones, feeling the rasp of stubble beneath her skin.

"I am falling in love with you," she said, quiet but sure. "Not just the parts you let me see, but the ones you bury -- the pieces that ache, the flaws you think you have to hide. Every part of you, even the ones that test me like this, knowing exactly what you do to me."

She drew a slow breath, then pulled back to look at his face more clearly.

"So tell me," she murmured, tilting her head just slightly, "which of us, do you suppose, is truly playing the long game? Me -- or you?"

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: You win
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

The world stopped. He'd been called a thousand things in his life; reckless, charming, dangerous... but never speechless. Yet there he was, frozen in the sunlight. Every word Sibylla spoke carved straight through the armor he didn't realize he still wore. Her voice was soft, steady, and sure. No theatrics. No deflection. Just truth, landing harder than any blade could have. "Falling in love with you." The phrase echoed in his head, looping relentlessly. She had said it on Kenari, and his concussed brain had dismissed it as a fluke.

He'd heard hollow, political, and convenient confessions before. But this was real. Terrifyingly, beautifully real. For so long, he had built himself out of masks. Aurelian Veruna, heir of nothing but chaos, was born of privilege and sharpened by expectation. He'd learned that sincerity was a weakness others would exploit; to survive, every emotion had to be a performance. Charm was safer than honesty. Wit was easier than truth. Then she arrived; this woman who saw through all of it. She challenged him, infuriated him, and completely undid him.

His throat tightened, his pulse unsteady. He wanted to look away, to say something irreverent and ease the tension like he always did, but he couldn't. Not this time. She deserved better than that. Aurelian exhaled, a soft, uneven sound. He finally drew back, only to steady himself. He sank into the chair beside her, dragging it closer until their knees brushed. For once, he didn't know how to look like he had everything under control.

When he spoke again, his voice was quieter than she'd ever heard it. "You shouldn't say things like that to a man like me," he murmured, a faint, unsteady smile flickering across his lips. "Because I might start believing I could deserve it." He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on hers. "I'm not playing any long game..." he said softly, each word deliberate, "...I've been falling for you for far longer than I ever meant to."

He reached out, fingertips brushing hers, hesitant at first, then firmer, like an anchor. "I just didn't know how to tell you without breaking the spell. Everything about you feels like something I could ruin if I reached too fast." He swallowed hard, his smile fading into something raw and unguarded. "But you made it impossible not to. You got under my skin. Into my thoughts. You've been there every time I try to breathe. When I fight, when I lead, when I pretend I don't care." His gaze softened, the mischief gone entirely. "You've been there, Sibylla. Always."

He took her hand fully now, drawing it to his lips and pressing a kiss against her knuckles, slow and reverent. "So if this is what dangerous feels like…" He looked up at her through his lashes, his voice barely above a whisper. "Then I'll stop pretending I'm not already lost to it."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: This isn’t over.
Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla felt her chest tighten as the weight of Aurelian's confession sank in, the quiet honesty, the vulnerability she had only ever glimpsed in fleeting moments before. She could see him now, truly see him, the man beneath the masks, the one who had spent a lifetime performing so he would never have to be hurt again.

When he took her hand and pressed his lips to it, her heart stumbled over itself again, and a rush of warmth bloomed in her chest so fierce it almost ached. There was no performance in the gesture, no practiced charm. Just him.

Hearing him now only confirmed what her heart had already known and what she'd told Cassian before -- this wasn't a passing infatuation. With Lysander, she'd fallen for the boy in letters, not the man himself. But Aurelian… she knew him. His flaws, his temper, his impossible charm. The parts he hid from everyone else he'd shown her, even when he hadn't meant to. And that was what undid her most.

"Aurelian…" she breathed his name with an incredulous, half-amused huff, her eyes soft with affection as she leaned closer. Her fingers lifted to cup his face again, tightening her hold on his hand as if to anchor him, to this moment, to her, to the truth she wanted him to finally believe.

"You really don't make it easy, do you?" she murmured, her lips curving faintly, that familiar spark of mischievous humor glinting through her tenderness. "A brilliant, maddening man who still needs convincing he's worthy of love. I suppose I'll just have to keep proving it to you... preferably in ways that get your attention."

Her thumb affectionately brushed the edge of his jaw once more, humor as well as challenge once again flickering in her voice.

"And for all your dramatic talk of ruin, you seem to forget that I'm not quite so fragile as to be broken by your affection. After everything that’s happened… am I not still here?"

Then, closing the space between them, she looked into his eyes as if daring him to look away.

"You drive me to distraction, Aurelian," she murmured, "You frustrate me, make me laugh, challenge me, and somehow still find new ways to charm me -- and no matter how I try, my heart and mind keep finding their way back to you."

Her smile deepened, carrying that dangerous warmth she reserved for him alone, the kind that spoke of trust and temptation in equal measure.

"So I suppose that means we're both already too far gone."

But before either could say another word, a voice interrupted.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," came Corde's apologetic tone from the edge of the courtyard. "Your appointment with the Gungan Envoy is in fifteen minutes."

Sibylla froze. Her hand tightened instinctively in Aurelian's grasp, caught between the pull of duty and the echo of everything they had just said.

"Right," she said at last, her voice softer than she meant it to be. She swallowed, glancing toward her aide without letting go of him. "Thank you, Corde. I'll be there shortly."

Her gaze returned to Aurelian, unwilling to break the moment. And though her expression seemed to tug itself back to regal composure, her next words and the spark in her eyes were a quiet promise meant only for him.

"This conversation," she murmured, her thumb tracing a slow circle against his hand, "isn't over."

Soft full lips curved again in a soft, sure, and impossibly fond tone.

"Not by a long shot."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: It's just begun
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

He watched her for a moment, the sunlight catching in her hair, her lips curving around his name, a glint in her eyes that was half fire, half mercy. Aurelian wasn't used to being disarmed like this. Every instinct urged him to turn the moment into a joke, a flirtation, something he could control. But he found nothing within him capable of cheapening the way she looked at him then.

He'd spent years mastering the art of appearing unshaken: the unflinching heir, the senator always ready with an answer. Yet here she was, undoing him with a handful of quiet words and the curve of her hand against his jaw.

His pulse thudded under her touch. She was so close he could smell the faint trace of her perfume, something clean and sharp, like rain on stone. He wanted to tell her he'd never met anyone who saw him like this. He wanted to confess that her stubbornness and her laughter had become the axis of his thoughts, that when she wasn't near, he caught himself glancing toward doorways as though expecting her to walk through them.

He leaned forward, eyes flicking between her lips and her gaze, about to say something reckless and entirely too real. Then, the sound of footsteps and Cordé's composed voice cut through the warmth between them.

Aurelian shut his eyes briefly, jaw tightening before the faintest grimace gave way to a grin. Of course. Cordé, the one woman in the palace who could make him retreat faster than a Mandalorian charge.

He sat back slightly, releasing a breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "You know," he muttered, glancing up at Shiraya with mock gravity, "I think I actually fear her more than half the Senate."

Her fingers still in his, he turned her hand over and pressed a slow kiss against her palm, softer this time, more lingering than before. The gesture carried everything he hadn't been able to say.

His voice was low when he spoke again, meant for her alone. "Go on, then," he said, his grin returning but gentler now. "Rule the galaxy, or charm it into submission, whichever comes first."

As she started to rise, he caught her wrist lightly, eyes gleaming. "But you're right," he murmured, leaning in close enough that his words brushed her skin. "This conversation isn't over."

He kissed her once, brief but sure, the kind that promised more, burning even after it ended. When he pulled back, he was smiling that dangerous, knowing smile again, the one that always spelled trouble.

"Not by a long shot," he echoed, voice roughened with warmth as he finally let her go.

And as she walked away, the world seemed a little dimmer, though the smile she left him with was enough to keep him dangerous until the next time she decided to break his composure all over again.

​