Private The Crown and the Silence

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Veruna Tower, Theed Royal Palace, Naboo
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian watched her. It felt as if the entire room had been constructed just for this instant: the way her breath caught, the reverent brush of her fingers over the piano, the shimmer in her hazel eyes settling on the sculpture he had fought so hard to secure. This was everything he had imagined. He had thought of this moment for weeks... of her stepping into the space, the quiet realization dawning, the disbelief softening into something deeper. Now, it was real, living proof that his efforts had been worthwhile.

A rare, quiet satisfaction bloomed in his chest, spreading with every detail of her reaction. This satisfaction wasn't tied to conquest or victory, but simply making her happy. He had wanted to give her something that belonged completely to her, untouched by politics or obligation. A place where Sibylla could shed the weight she carried, if only for an hour, and just exist. Watching her take it in, he realized he had given her something she didn't even know she needed. That reaction was the whole point.

When she moved toward him and lowered her forehead against his chest, he froze. The intimacy of the gesture caught him entirely off guard. For a second, he couldn't breathe. His crown and the robes of his station simply fell away in that quiet contact; her leaning into him, the faint chime of her headdress against his coat, her scent like waterlilies winding into his senses. The glass in his hand trembled once before he set it carefully on the piano. His amber eyes remained locked on the dark spill of her hair against him.

Slowly, hesitantly, as though afraid to break the spell, he lifted his arms and wrapped them around her. The movement was uncharacteristically gentle, careful. His hands settled at her back in an embrace devoid of his usual theatrics, holding only sincerity. His heart pounded against his ribs, hard and insistent, as if it wanted to voice its own answer to her quiet murmur.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself fully absorb the fragile, precious intimacy of being needed, trusted, and cherished in return. He had spent his entire life chasing legacies, alliances, and thrones. But this? This moment, holding her, was something he hadn't known he was searching for until it arrived, beating against him in the steady rhythm of her presence.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, softer than almost anyone had ever heard it. "There's no need to say anything," he murmured, one hand gently tracing an arc along her back. "The look on your face is enough. To see you like this…" He paused, swallowing against the rapid thrum in his chest. "It makes everything worth it."

He drew a breath, his cheek brushing lightly against her hair as he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I hope you'll find peace here. Sanctuary. Only a handful of people know this place exists. Whenever you need space... from the court, from the Houses, even from me... this place will always be here. For you."

The words left him bare, stripped of the dangerous grin and the clever prince who always had a dagger hidden in his sleeve. This wasn't a performance. This was him, offering the only thing he had never offered anyone else: a piece of himself, given freely.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Aurelian Veruna ​

Professional first, then unprofessional.

In hindsight, as Aurelian’s words echoed in her mind, Sibylla knew she was crossing the line between professionalism and intimacy, and she could only hope Aurelian would forgive her for it. But when he moved, gentle and deliberate, to wrap his arms around her, she stilled. Her world narrowed to the warmth of his hold, to the quiet comfort of being enveloped in him, and she gave a sigh of relief that she hadn't messed this up.

The soft graze of his hand at her back, the low murmur of sincerity in that rich tenor brushing her ear, it was enough to make her eyes flutter closed, his words sinking into her, promising sanctuary, promising that this place was hers alone.

How could he have known this was what she needed? What she wanted? A place to just be.

Her mind thought back to dozens of conversations. Each and every one holding a brief and partial clue to the sum of what he'd built for her here. How long had he been truly listening? Taking notes? Watching and observing her for the tells that added up to this?

The weight of such thoughtfulness pressed on her, left her swallowing hard as she hid her face against him again, jeweled fringe brushing his collar. Her forehead rested at his chest, her hand flattening over the steady rise and fall of his breath, just long enough to tell him without words that she wasn't pulling away.

But then nerves and a tide of emotion finally broke into her typical tendency towards quips and humor, curling her lips into a light crooked grin as a soft laugh escaped her.

"I shouldn't be the only one to find respite in such a sanctuary," she murmured, her voice unsteady with both mirth and sincerity.

"You need one as well," she continued, opening her eyes, thinking of that hidden beach along the cliffs on Parrlay's coast, wondering if he had anything here that offered him the same peace.

"For while I have my piano and my scrolls of Naboo’s myths and lore, I wonder what corner of this palace serves you as your hidden beach near Rainspire."

When Sibylla finally leaned back, it was only far enough to lift her gaze to him. A half smile lingered on her lips as hazel eyes met the steady amber of his.

"That is, of course, if you can endure my provoking conversation…and if your ears can suffer through a tune or two at the piano."

The humor softened, her voice gentling into sincerity.

"But should you ever wish for an escape, Aurelian… come here. This sanctuary need not be mine alone."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Veruna Tower, Theed Royal Palace, Naboo
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian held her close, tighter than he initially intended, but he couldn't help it. The warmth of her body against him, the brush of her headdress against his collar, the quiet surrender of her head resting on his chest; it was overwhelming and yet not nearly enough. He shut his eyes. For a moment, the roaring Naboo waterfall outside seemed to fade until there was only Sibylla, her presence humming in his veins like a steadying force he hadn't known he craved.

When she spoke of him needing his own sanctuary, his lips curved in a quiet huff of laughter against her hair. Of course she would. Even after he had unveiled something meant solely for her, she immediately turned the thought outward. She was always so damned selfless. He knew, he could feel, how much she needed the space he had given her. For all her poise and command, he knew the immense weight she carried, and yet her immediate concern went to him.

Her words pulled him inward, back to Parrlay, to the towering cliffs he used to climb whenever the palace felt suffocating and expectation pressed too heavily. He could see the memory clearly: the jagged rocks, the treacherous descent that had often shredded his palms, and the hidden, untouched beach that waited below. He hadn't visited that sanctuary in some time now. Perhaps because he no longer felt the need to seek solitude. The quiet he once chased, he realized, he had somehow found with her.

The thought arrived unbidden, yet it resonated with such truth he couldn't deny it: Sibylla had become his sanctuary. She couldn't know the way her sharp words and provoking questions steadied him, or how her trust anchored him more deeply than any crown or political maneuvering. He realized, with an odd ache, that near her, he could simply breathe. He could be himself, stripped of the burdens of kingship and the legacy of his cursed bloodline. She was the calm he had unknowingly sought his entire life.

When she finally drew back, he held her still, his hands lingering at her waist, reluctant to break the contact completely. He studied her face, watching the light play across her features, the curve of her lips softened into that familiar half-smile. He returned it with a boyish, dangerous grin, though it was tempered now with something much deeper.

"I have my own sanctuary," he said softly. The admission lingered between them, but he chose not to elaborate. Some truths were his to keep, for now. His smile deepened as he added, his voice dipping low, "And I suppose I could suffer through a song or two here." A quiet, genuine chuckle left him, chasing away the brief heaviness of their silence.

"I may come here sometimes, yes, but this place is fundamentally yours, Sibylla. It was meant for you." His amber gaze held hers steady, burning with conviction. "But I need you to remember one thing. If there is ever trouble... if Theed or this palace comes under attack again, you come here. Don't hesitate. I will know where to find you, and we'll get out together."

His hand gave a faint squeeze at her side, sealing the promise.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Aurelian Veruna ​

Sibylla felt the tickle of Aurelian's breath as he laughed by her hair, the sensation tickling the tip of her ear that sent a delicate tickle down her neck. Thankfully,she masked it well, though her hazel eyes caught upon that wicked, boyish smile curving over his lips. It was not the sharp edged grin he wielded at court to test others, but something gentler, more genuine, conspiratorial even, and one she found herself seeing more often with him. She found herself enjoying seeing him like that.

Seeing it made the tension ebb as their playful exchange softened the air between them, though she remained acutely aware of his nearness, the rich murmur of his voice, and the steady warmth of his hands resting at her hips. Yet she lingered, finding herself drawn to him. At his admission, her brows lifted, hazel eyes bright with amused curiosity.

"Oh… so you do have one?" she quipped, hazel eyes glinting as she leaned back a fraction. "Good to know. I'm certain Tona knows where it is, so perhaps I'll send your congratulatory gift there instead."

The tease slipped easily from her lips, followed by an amused roll of her eyes at the thought of him enduring one of her piano songs. But before she could deliver another jab, his expression sobered, the teasing swept aside as he spoke with conviction of Theed, of the palace, of danger yet to come. The weight of his words settled over her chest. Hearing him mention Theed or the Palace and the possibility of them being attacked again only brought to mind the previous raids and then the Black Sun Syndicate attack at the very Senate Assembly Chamber.

There was already an emergency session underway regarding the matter, but as King and Voice, they held no sway in the vote, only provided advisement. She drew a slow breath, her tone quieter now

"Alright. I will." She agreed. The questions that lingered about what might happen should even this tower suffer damage she set aside for another day, when the matter of increased defenses would demand their voices in council.

Seeking to restore some measure of lightness, she glanced about the chamber once more, her headdress giving the faintest chime as her eyes narrowed on him, mischief sparking anew.

"Are you quite certain," she began, her voice slipping into mischief again, "that this isn't some elaborate ploy to lock me away? A Voice heard, but not seen?"

Her hand gestured lightly to the shelves, the piano, the sculpture, her lips quirking.

"Forgive me, Aurelian, but you have given me the very top of Veruna Tower to hide in. Add a bed and a desk, and I could vanish for weeks."

The jest carried a lighter lilt, but beneath it her chest still swelled with something deeper: gratitude, affection, and a growing awareness that he had given her more than walls and shelves.

He'd given her a place to truly be herself in peace.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Veruna Tower, Theed Royal Palace, Naboo
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian let out a quiet laugh, a low rumble against her hair, as Sibylla teased him about Tona. Of course, Sibylla would think of that. His usual dangerous smile softened, a rare warmth now in his eyes, meant only for her.

"Tona likely has her suspicions," he admitted, amused. "But that's only because she's my oldest friend. No one else knows." His amber gaze lingered on Sibylla. He tilted his head, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "Maybe one day I'll let you in on the secret."

Reluctantly, his arms released her, though not without a final, lingering squeeze at her waist. His hands slid away slowly, as if unwilling to give up her warmth, before he turned to retrieve his drink from the piano. The crystal glass felt cool against his palm, grounding him. He took a sip, the whisky's burn rolling down his throat, then glanced back at her with another soft laugh.

"No, Sibylla. I don't intend to lock you away in this tower," he said, lifting the glass in a mock toast. His voice carried that dangerous lilt, softened now by sincerity. "Though I imagine you'll often be found up here." His eyes glimmered with quiet humor. "Besides, I need the beautiful Voice of the Houses standing beside me when I'm trying to get my way. Not everyone enjoys the brooding king I seem to be."

There was truth in the jest. He knew her presence swayed rooms in ways his reputation alone never could. Together, they found a balance: his steel and her fire, his cunning and her conviction. He liked it that way, more than he dared admit.

He crossed the chamber, moving with deliberate, unhurried confidence. Seating himself on the piano bench, he set his glass on the smooth wood, his fingers tracing the edge for a moment as if considering the instrument, before looking up at her again. The boyish curve of his mouth returned as he leaned back slightly.

"I could arrange a bed and a desk, if you truly wish to vanish for weeks," he teased, his tone light, though his amber eyes held a gaze far less casual. "But first, truth and honesty time."

The words landed with weight. His voice, low and measured, was almost too calm for the storm brewing inside him. He had offered this invitation once before, but now he pressed it again, softer, more vulnerable. His gaze held hers steadily, patient but unyielding.

"What is it, Sibylla? What truth lingers on your mind?"

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his thighs, his body poised, waiting. The dangerous smile had faded, replaced by sincerity. His usual armor had been set aside. In this moment, he was hers entirely, ready to listen.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Aurelian Veruna ​

There it was again, that ticklish shiver when Aurelian's low, rumbling laughter brushed against her hair, a warmth crawling delicately down the side of her neck. She willed her composure to hold, tilting her head just enough for her dark waves and the jingle of her headdress to veil the faint flush blooming over her cheeks just to see that wicked and boyish smile of his curved over his lips again.

Her brows rose at his revelation about Tona, her curiosity peaked.

So Tona is his oldest friend, she mused to herself. For Aurelian to name any friend, much less his oldest friend, spoke volumes of Tona's character. No wonder he had leapt to her defense that day in his office when he accused Sibylla, unfairly, of treating his staff as pawns. Loyalty like that was not lightly earned.

But before she could tease him further, she felt his hands press lightly at her waist before he stepped away. The ghost of the touch sent her pulse skipping, only to climb again when he casually said he needed the beautiful Voice of the Houses at his side.

"You, brooding? Hardly. I think you rather delight in the spectacle of yourself." she quipped, letting humor and banter soften the heat rising over her cheeks.

"In fact, I daresay you enjoy the spotlight and pageantry even more now that you are King." She added the second quip with a faint teasing lilt, as if daring him to contradict her.

She reached for her glass but found her eyes trailing after him instead, following the unhurried way he crossed the room and lowered himself onto the piano bench. The sunlight caught him there, filtering through the high windows, framing his tousled hair and crown, and she couldn't help the incredulous curve of her smile. It was maddening, really, how easily a man could look so mischievous and so entirely sincere at once.

She took a slow sip of the whiskey, letting its warmth slide down her throat, buying herself a moment to steady her heart.

"Mmm… somewhere comfortable to lie down wouldn't be unwelcome," she said lightly. "Though I must request that my liege graciously look the other way should he find his Voice taking a nap in the middle of the day." Her tone was playful, but Shiraya help her, when was the last time she had even allowed herself an afternoon nap?

The scent of waterlilies and the faint music of her headdress followed her as she moved to the bench, settling beside him. It had been almost two months since she had last played -- the last time had been cathartic, the need to express her heartbreak over Lysander in a way she could never put in words. Its absence had been telling, with even Cassian telling her how he longed to hear her play again, but in a tune that would finally show her smiling once more.

A faint, nostalgic, if bittersweet smile curved her lips as she let her fingers hover over the black and white ivories, caressing a few in a soft, testing touch before taking another sip of her whiskey.

"I can scarcely believe you remembered a passing remark of mine," she murmured, lifting her gaze toward him with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"Though, I suppose it should not astonish me. You have always been alarmingly adept at keeping accounts of every detail. You would never have chaired the Internal Affairs Committee otherwise."

The realization settled with a quiet weight. It explained far too much.

She set her glass upon the polished piano and leaned back beside him, her fingers finding the keys almost absently. A melody unfurled, quiet at first, each note deliberate, testing. Then it grew, soft and searching, weaving through the chamber like a current of thought made audible. The music carried more than her words could, echoing her curiosity, her wonder, her need to unravel him.

"I promise you, I am not contriving to delay," Sibylla confessed, her voice threading gently between the notes, though the music itself seemed to contradict her restraint. Each rise and fall pressed the truth more surely than her tongue dared.

"I will tell you the whole truth of the matter.... I am just voicing my thoughts as they come," she admitted even as her fingers wandered over the keys, coaxing out the kind of wistful, questioning refrain that belonged to someone seeking answers. A faint, wry smile curved her lips.

"...You managed to gather the dearest elements of my life and place them here, within this sanctuary, as though you had drawn them straight from my heart," she said softly, her fingers coaxing a gentle flourish of notes that lingered in the hush between them.

"And yet, I find myself at a loss when I wonder what you hold dear, what you treasure most... what hobby catches your interest other than doing your best to provoke." she grinned, the jest coating her voice even as her hazel eyes rose to his, the look she gave candid and unguarded, but touched with a quiet curiosity that lingered a beat too long.

"There is so much I do not know of you... and I discover, more and more each day, that I wish to learn more."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Veruna Tower, Theed Royal Palace, Naboo
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian's lips curved, a smirk he didn't bother to hide as Sibylla's words... always so direct, so teasingly truthful, accused him of reveling in the spectacle of himself. And she wasn't wrong. He did enjoy the pageantry. The smile, the crown, the authoritative air, all tools honed to a fine edge. Yet, as she spoke, a surprising warmth bloomed within him. The pageantry felt richer with her by his side, lighter, easier. She made it all worthwhile.

He lifted his glass, a gesture of mock offense, the amber liquid catching the light. His eyes sparkled with playful mischief.

When Sibylla murmured her surprise that he remembered such a casual remark, Aurelian set his glass down on the polished piano, a soft huff of laughter betraying his feigned shock. "Can't believe it?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow in exaggerated disbelief. "Sibylla, I endure endless hours of bureaucrats droning on about quotas and tariffs until I could fall asleep standing up. If I didn't pay attention when you speak, I'd go mad from sheer boredom. You always have my full attention." His voice softened on the last sentence, the genuine truth of it slipping through the banter.

He turned slightly on the bench, hands folded loosely in his lap, long fingers entwined as he leaned his elbows on his thighs. His gaze, steady and unwavering, settled on her hands as they moved over the ivory keys. The melody filled the chamber, soft and deliberate, hesitant at first, then unfolding like a confession.

Aurelian found himself watching her more than listening to the music: the slight tilt of her head as she found the notes, the focused crease between her brows, the way her lips moved as if speaking without words. There was a lightness in her expression, something more unburdened than what he saw in the Assembly. Watching her there, sunlight illuminating her hazel eyes, this was his sanctuary. Not the cliffs of Parrlay, not even this tower, but her, lost in a part of herself that no court could ever touch. His chest tightened, the steady rhythm of her music syncing with the pounding of his own heart.

As the final note faded into silence, Sibylla turned her gaze to him, her question laced with curiosity. She asked what he treasured, what he held dear. The question caught him, making him pause. He wasn't used to such inquiries. Most people thought they knew Aurelian Veruna; the theatricality, the charm, the brooding king with a dangerous smile. They never asked about what lay beneath. Few ever bothered to care.

But Sibylla did.

He cocked an eyebrow, a faint curve of amusement playing on his lips. Her curiosity was disarming, but not unwelcome. For a moment, he hummed thoughtfully, leaning back on the bench. Then, he began to speak, peeling back the layers she had requested.

"I am a man of many layers, Sibylla," he said at last, his voice low and steady, carrying a playful hint but devoid of pretense. "Some known, some kept close." He paused, as if considering how much to reveal, then let his gaze soften. "Back home in Parrlay, I keep a stable. Guarlara. There's nothing quite like riding, nothing that makes me feel so free, so untethered." His lips curved faintly, a fleeting, almost boyish expression.

"I love theatre," he continued, a spark of mischief flashing in his amber eyes. "If I hadn't been born into nobility, I think I would have made a decent actor. The stage, the script, the performance; it all translates quite well to politics, you see." He gave a quiet laugh, unbothered by the admission, before his tone shifted again.

"I sculpt, though poorly." His shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "Someone recently suggested I take it up again. I'm improving. Slowly."

He exhaled, his amber gaze meeting hers with deliberate weight before he added, "And I read. Not the thrillers or romances others enjoy. Tales of Jedi and Sith. Legends of old wars, lost empires, strange philosophies. I admit, I'm quite envious of the Sal-Soren line. Part of me has always wished I could wield the Force." A dangerous edge crept subtly into his voice, his eyes flickering with something darker, more contemplative. "Though perhaps it is better I cannot. I suspect my curiosity would lead me too far into its shadows."

The admission hung in the quiet space between them, raw and exposed in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. Yet, with her, it didn't feel like a weakness. It felt… safe.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Aurelian Veruna ​

"You are a man of many layers. That much I know well," Sibylla replied with a laugh, her tone carrying both amusement and a touch of exasperation as much as the soft pleasure and flush at hearing him say she always had his full attention.

"I've spent more time than I care to count trying to peer past them." The corner of her mouth curved upward as she recalled how often she’d observe the former Senator of Plooriod who wrapped himself in silks and theatrics, always revealing just enough to tempt and frustrate but never enough to satisfy.

"I daresay you've tried my patience more than a handful of times because of it," she added, acknowledging his practiced ability to chameleon himself as the occasion demanded with a teasing smile.

Her fingers stilled on the keys and folded neatly into her lap as she turned to him, giving him her full attention. When his first confession left his lips, an incredulous grin spread across her heartshaped face. She shook her head slowly, side to side, the gesture alone saying, of course you would, before laughter broke free, light and melodic, bubbling up until her shoulders and headdress shook with it.

"Ohhh… you would do that," she laughed, moving to take her glass as much to give him a teasing toast as well. That he not only kept them but rode them without care for the law was so perfectly, recklessly him, for they are only meant for Monarchs and Royal Crusaders.

"A stable of Guarlara?" Her brow arched in mock severity, but amusement shimmered through her tone.

"Not that it matters now. I can only imagine you make quite the figure in the saddle. Naboo's King astride a Guarlara from the royal stables... in that, permit me the smallest stab of envy. I have often wondered what it would be like to ride one myself." Her smile softened as the image took hold, the wind whipping through his dark hair, that wicked grin flashing, every inch the devil he so often played, truly delighting in the freedom on the back of a Gaurlara in an all out sprint.

His love of the theatre came as no surprise, and Sibylla was more than willing to indulge his pride.

"Oh, let us not be modest in a domain where you so clearly excel, Aurelian. You'd be the leading star of any troupe, and your fanbase would be… formidable. I'd be most unwilling to land on the wrong side of them." Her hazel eyes gleamed as she tipped her glass, teasing and sincere all at once.

But when he admitted to sculpting and the tales he devoured, her brows shot upward. Genuine surprise widened her gaze, and without thinking, she leaned closer, her headdress chiming faintly as hazel eyes widened with unfeigned surprise.

"Sculpting? Truly?" She gave a slow crooked smile, trying to picture it. Aurelian bent over a piece of stone or was buried in some ancient chronicle of Jedi and Sith wars. The image was unexpectedly endearing.

"What medium do you use? What do you sculpt?" she pressed, curiosity brightening her tone as she took a sip of whiskey, head canting to the side musing thereafter regarding the genre he read.

"And I can see it, the allure of legends, the weight of philosophies. They suit you," she murmured, thinking she was no different herself with her love of Nabooian lore and myths.

Yet as he spoke of envy for the Force in the Sal-Soren's hold and the confession that his curiosity would lead him too far into the shadows, her expression sobered and Lysander's shadow stole briefly into her thoughts. Her hazel eyes lowered to the glass in her hand, watching the amber liquid whirl in slow, restless circles.

"Hmm… I agree. For all the envy that House Sal-Soren's gift might inspire, the Force is not a burden I would wish upon anyone." Her voice quieted, her expression sobering.

"I have seen too clearly where one spark of curiosity can lead...how easily a longing for freedom can twist into chains, how quickly a refusal to be another's pawn can drag a soul into darker paths."

Sibylla took a breath and let her hazel eyes rise up to meet his again, and then, a softer gentler if bittersweet smile grew, for she was very much aware what that revelation meant.

"I'm glad you are unable to use the Force. I'd rather not risk losing you to a path I've no way of knowing how to help you out of it."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Veruna Tower, Theed Royal Palace, Naboo
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Her laughter washed over Aurelian, low and melodic, shaking the little chimes of her headdress until the whole moment felt alive with her mirth. He couldn't help his smirk from deepening, his amber eyes narrowing slightly as though savoring her joy at his expense.

Her mock-serious remark about the Guarlara brought a slow, knowing grin to his face. He leaned back, shoulders relaxing against the bench, his hands resting loosely on his thighs. "Ah, but you give me too much credit, Sibylla," he drawled, the dangerous lilt returning to his voice. "The laws of Naboo and I have always had a tenuous relationship." Mischief glimmered in his gaze, hinting at a quieter admission: he always took what he wanted, one way or another.

He leaned forward then, elbows braced on his knees, eyes gleaming with a boyish spark. "Come ride with me. No one has to know. Let the courtiers clutch their pearls if they ever find out, but until then, it's just you, me, and the wind." He lifted a brow, the dare plain in his expression. "Besides, the stables already hold more than enough secrets. One more won't matter."

Her comment about theater earned a soft chuckle from him, and for once, he didn't deflect the compliment. "Formidable, huh? I rather like the sound of that." His lips curved into that dangerous smile again, but his eyes softened as they lingered on her.

When her curiosity turned to his sculpting, his grin softened into something more rueful. He ran a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head faintly. "Clay, mostly. Stone demands more patience than I'm willing to part with just yet. Clay yields, lets you shape and reshape when the vision isn't quite right. Half of what I've made ends up as discarded lumps, but... sometimes, it begins to resemble something worth keeping." He paused, tilting his head slightly as though picturing the small, misshapen figures sitting forgotten on a shelf. He glanced at her sidelong, his voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial. "I'm no master sculptor, Sibylla, but there's a strange comfort in trying to coax shape from chaos."

Her words about the Force, sobering, quiet, and heavy, drew his gaze to hers. He let the silence settle between them a moment, the glimmer in his eyes dimming but not darkening. Then, gently, he shook his head. "Do not fear for me," he said, his tone softer than she might have expected. "Whatever paths I walk, I won't tread them alone. I won't walk any road you can't follow." His lips curved faintly, an unguarded smile slipping free. "That, I promise you."

He shifted then, his amber eyes sweeping across the chamber: the high windows, the piano, the quiet alcove bathed in golden light. His expression grew thoughtful, almost pensive, before his gaze returned to her, steady and searching. "Tell me, did I miss anything?" he asked, his voice low and curious. "Is there some other part of you I should have captured here, something I overlooked when creating this space for you?" His fingers tapped absently against his glass, a faint echo of the piano's rhythm. His smile returned, lighter now, touched with teasing affection. "I would hate to think I've left your sanctuary incomplete."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Aurelian Veruna​

Sibylla let herself watch Aurelian quietly as he spoke, the way the light played in his amber eyes, the small shifts in his expression as laughter tugged at his mouth, or when that maddening boyish grin surfaced without warning. She offered the occasional wry murmur, a hum, a soft chuckle, at his tenuous regard for Naboo's laws, at the daring invitation to go riding with him, at the almost shy way he confessed to working with clay. Yet even as she teased, her expression softened, warmed by the simple pleasure of listening to what truly delighted him.

As the conversation flowed and the tension ebbed, she found herself leaning forward without realizing it, drawn by the cadence of his voice. The more he revealed, the more she recognized how rarely he shared this side of himself. It endeared him to her in a way she hadn't expected, from the faint crease at the corner of his eyes when mischief sparked, the careless rake of his hand through dark hair, to how animated he was when he spoke, all those little details that no court or council chamber ever glimpsed.

"Careful now," she teased, her voice lilting as her lips curved. "You'll topple your crown if you keep running your fingers through your hair like that."

The jest carried easily, but her gaze lingered a fraction longer than she meant, wondering whether his hair was as soft as it looked. She caught herself, lifting her glass to disguise the faint warmth in her cheeks.

When he promised her that she need not fear, that he would not walk a path she could not follow, her smile curved bittersweetly. Her hazel eyes darkened for an instant, shadows brushing the surface of her composure, before she gave a nod in agreement, the fligree jewels caressing her cheek with the motion.

"Good," she replied, only to add with a notable quip that was a promise as well as a threat with an attempt at a wry twist of her lips, "Otherwise I might have to deck you again to knock sense into you."

When he pressed her, her gaze swept briefly over the tomes, the piano, the statues, before returning to him with a wry grin that tugged at her lips.

"A lady must keep some of her secrets close to her chest, Aurelian. How else is she to hold the interest of a gentleman?" Her laughter followed, warm and unguarded, before she added with a spark in her eye thinking of her brother Cassian Abrantes , "Mmm… perhaps a fountain, if only to toss Cassian into it. Though reason insists the tomes deserve protection from my mischief."

She tilted her head, lips caught between teeth for a heartbeat as she studied him.

"Your offer of a Guarlara ride is… very tempting," she admitted, a rebellious light flickering across her face. "I suspect the scandal alone would make Dominic Praxon clutch his pearls. It almost makes me want to say yes..." although her expression clearly stated that she was already more than halfway there in accepting the offer. She could already imagine the thrill of it. They were larger than any other beasts she'd ridden... but also, what would one little Gaurlara ride harm?

"But as to what else that you might have missed..." she mused and then her grin broadened with impish devilry, "… perhaps one of your little clay statues." Her eyes glimmered with earnest curiosity.

"Masterpiece or no, anything shaped by your own hands deserves a place here." She meant it, more than her tone suggested, because she wanted a piece of him here, within her sanctuary.

Her gaze drifted back to the piano, fingers brushing the ivory keys over the piano as her headdress gave a soft chime.

"I imagine creation feels much the same as when I play. When words fail me, the music always seems to reveal what I cannot." She pressed the notes lightly, the sound carrying into the space between them, and when her eyes lifted again, they lingered on him a little longer than she intended.

She gave a pause, and after a breath, decided to vocalize what had been coiling in her heart.

"Thank you," she added softly, her words meant only for him. "For doing this... for talking to me... and for listening. For the past three weeks, I've been at a loss with only my own thoughts wreaking havoc on my mind and seeding ridiculous what-ifs and incessant tirades that I have made a mess of things. I don't say it often, but I am grateful for you, Aurelian. More than I can find words for."

She swallowed hard and then gave a slight nervous laugh, only to take another sip of her drink.

"But alright. Enough of that. I am sure you waited long enough. The truth of it all." She admitted, returning her attention to him with a brief glance.

"I apologize in advance if it seems as if I'm rambling... " Again, it was as if her hands and fingers needed an outlet, another quick dribble of keys over the piano.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Veruna Tower, Theed Royal Palace, Naboo
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian watched her as she spoke, captivated by the teasing glint in her hazel eyes, her warm laughter filling the chamber, and the way she leaned closer as if drawn without realizing it. Every subtle gesture fascinated him. As her lighthearted banter and whispered gratitude washed over him, he felt that familiar tightening in his chest. This was what had been missing since the crown first sat on his head: her. More than any applause or bowing courtiers, her presence was what truly mattered.

Her jibe about his hair earned a quiet, throaty laugh from Aurelian. He deliberately reached up, raking his fingers through his dark, tousled locks, a touch exaggerated, just to provoke her. "Careful, you say?" he quipped, his amber eyes flashing with mischief. "If the crown topples, I'll simply have to find someone willing to keep it steady." His gaze settled on her, the unspoken meaning clear.

Her threat, that she might deck him again if he lost his way, made him grin. "Shiraya help me, I know you would," he chuckled, shaking his head with a boyish tilt. "But I'll count myself fortunate to have you close enough to land the blow. You're here for me, Sibylla. It's only right I return the favor, always." His voice softened, sincere and low, holding a weight that no amount of banter could conceal.

Leaning back, he idly lifted his glass, swirling the amber liquid without drinking. He watched her instead: the slight falter in her gaze, the blush she tried to hide behind her drink, and the quiet earnestness of her thanks. He sensed her fumbling with words, her composure slipping into something unguarded and vulnerable. It struck him harder than he expected how much he wanted to ease that burden, to offer her something steady to cling to.

With a faint curve of his lips, Aurelian reached up and tugged the crown from his own head. The golden circlet caught the light, glittering for a heartbeat in his hands. He then leaned toward her, placing it carefully upon hers. It was too large, sitting slightly askew against her dark hair and jeweled headdress, but this only deepened his grin.

"There," he said, his tone warm and teasing, yet threaded with sincere meaning. "Now you're the one wearing it. You can say anything you want, Sibylla. Whatever truth it is, I'll hear it." He tilted his head, watching her from beneath his lashes, his amber gaze glowing with both amusement and something far more tender. "Besides," he added softly, "it suits you."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Aurelian Veruna ​

Sibylla saw him ruffle his hair again in that deliberate, maddening way of his, amber eyes glinting with devilry he had no right to flash. It drew her gaze against her better judgment, tracing over details she hadn't taken notice of before. For all his theatrics, the motion revealed the strength of his arm, the soldier's frame that remained beneath silks and crowns, his fingers dragging through dark strands until forelocks tumbled forward over his brow.

She felt her own fingers twitch with the impulse to reach out and brush the inky locks back, only to clash with the urge to leave them as they were. Touseled as they were, his hair softened his features, but not in any way that diminished him. If anything, it only framed the sharp planes of his face, the dark slash of his brows, making him look all the more dangerously, infuriatingly handsome.

And then he looked at her. Truly looked at her. The weight of his amber gaze, paired with his words, was enough to make her chest ache and warm at once. He believed she could steady the crown if it toppled. He believed in her. The thought left her unsettled in a way she could not explain.

But I'll count myself fortunate to have you close enough to land the blow... you're here for me, Sibylla. It's only right I return the favor, always.

Sibylla felt her breath catch at that, that he counted himself fortunate for her presence. For her. The words sank deep, curling through her chest like sunlight through a shutter. A slow, shy smile softened her lips, her lashes lowering as a flush rose, warm and betraying, over her décolleté and higher still to her cheeks.

So when she felt the sudden weight of the crown set carefully upon her head, she nearly startled. It pressed heavy and real, and she had to still herself lest it truly topple.

"Aureli--" she began, but he cut her off gently, his grin tugging at one corner of his mouth.

Now you're the one wearing it. Say what you wish. Whatever truth lies in your heart, I'll hear it. You have my full attention....Besides… it suits you.

A quiet laugh slipped from her, uncertain and soft, the kind that rose when she felt exposed and yet oddly safe. She resisted the urge to shake her head, afraid the crown would slide askew. So instead, Sibyla set her glass aside with care on top of the piano to free her hands. A quiet sigh escaped her full lips as her fingers rose to ease the circlet from her head, feeling the cool metal warmed by his touch.

"That's the problem, Aurelian," she said gently, lowering the crown into her hands to eye level as she peered at it.

"Too many voices have already told me how well it suits me." Her hazel eyes reflected the glinting gold as she held it aloft, and her smile curved in a wry arc but it never quite reached her eyes then.

"My family. My House. Allies. Ambassadors. Senators. All telling me I am Naboo's hope, the pride of my House, the perfect daughter destined to shine brighter even than Queen Kalantha one day. Even you have told me I am Naboo's future. Her golden age... one day."

She paused, her thumb brushing the rim of the circlet, her expression shadowed by the weight of memory.

"I grew up in my father's shadow, though never unkindly. I adored following him as a girl, watching, learning, eager to help. I wanted to help." Her smile warmed faintly, soft with old affection.

"Perhaps my eagerness only confirmed what everyone else was saying. Don't get me wrong -- I was precocious, insufferably so at times. A little assistant. A little know-it-all." She gave a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. "Until I learned tact. And the power of words. And empathy. The strength of restraint and the sway of compassion. All are tools. Methods of manipulation if you really want to be honest..."

Her hazel eyes lifted to his, her voice lowering into something more intimate.

"Just as languages became another sort of truth. Pak Pak was a necessity due to dealing with the Trade Federation. But Lorridan Kinetic Communication?" Her lips curved faintly, knowingly. "That was for reading intent. For separating truth from lies. Lips may lie. The body cannot. No matter how theatrical the performance."

She chuckled softly, though there was a glimmer in her eyes.

"Do not worry. I am no master. Not every quirk or glance can be unraveled. But enough to glean what lies between words. Enough to give me an edge." Her grin widened a touch, wry and playful. "So your secrets are safe, so long as you keep your cloak wrapped tightly and plenty of layers on."

Her laughter faded, but her gaze lingered on him, open, candid, and threaded with something tender and vulnerable that had not been there before. She was slowly letting him into her doubts, her most intimate of worries and concerns.

"But all that time, I told myself it was because I wanted to. Because it made sense. I was born into privilege, and with that comes duty. Obligation. To care for my people, my House, my world. What greater service could I give than to offer my life to Her, as Queen?"

Her voice softened, dropping into something quieter, more fragile.

"At least... until I began to wonder. What parts of myself am I sacrificing for this? Am I even willing to give them up? And if I am -- or if I am not -- then what does that mean? Do I truly want to be Queen at all?"

Her gaze shifted past the crown and back to Aurelian, as though seeking an answer in him she could not find in herself.

"And that is when I realized... I do not know. I don't know if I want to be Queen because I desire it, or because it is what I was raised, trained, and expected to become."

Her lips curved into a trembling smile before breaking into a short, nervous, vulnerable laugh.

"And that is the honest truth. I don't know. And if I cannot even discern my own desires, then what kind of Queen would I be? How could I ever claim to decide what is best for Naboo, when I stand so uncertain of myself?"

A pause, and then her expression sombered.

"But you, Aurelian.... you were certain with every fiber of your being. You wanted to be King. Utterly convinced of it and what you could do for Naboo. What needed to be done. Prophecy, you called it right? " she reminded him of that night on the stormy night on Rainspire. Another small shake of her head in remembrance and then she swallowed hard. After a second, she took a breath, her shoulders rising and her headdress giving the slightest of chimes as she looked upon the crown again.

"So on Foundation Day, I was determined to find out exactly where you stood on things. And the why...why you saved my life. What was the intent behind it? And where we both stood. What was your plan for Naboo?"

Hazel eyes rose again, no veil shielding him from where she stood then.

"Had you answered any differently... I would not be sitting here with you now. For that, Aurelian, I am eternally grateful." She paused, her lips curving into a wry twist. "Even if your methods were dreadfully improper, with a sense of personal space that bordered on the shameless then."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Veruna Tower, Theed Royal Palace, Naboo
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian sat very still as Sibylla spoke, though his heart pounded. Each word felt heavier than the crown he had just placed on her head. He didn't interrupt, nor did he offer his usual smirk or the quick quips that slid so easily from his lips when he felt cornered. Instead, he simply watched her, taking her in completely.

He noticed the way her hazel eyes glimmered in the half-light, their warmth ebbing and flowing as memory and doubt played across her face. He saw the slight tremor in her laugh when she confessed her uncertainty, and the curve of her lips when she spoke of her father, a softer warmth spilling through her carefully held composure. He knew he was supposed to be listening to her words, and he was, but Shiraya help him, she was distracting enough on her own. Her smile, her eyes, the faint chime of her jeweled headdress whenever she moved; even her vulnerability had a gravity that pulled him closer.

He listened. He let her unburden herself, allowed her doubts to settle between them like fragile glass. A small, gentle smile touched his lips. When she finally fell quiet, her words lingering in the silence like echoes, Aurelian leaned in.

The crown had begun to tilt slightly on her head, heavy and askew. With deliberate care, he reached up to adjust it, his fingers brushing aside a strand of dark hair that had slipped across her cheek. His touch lingered a breath longer than necessary before his hands fell, finding hers, warm and steady.

"You listen to me now, Sibylla," he began, his voice low but sure, threaded with a sincerity rarely heard from him. "I would never force you to be anything you do not wish to be. Not a Queen, not a Voice, not even a companion to my reckless escapades with Gaurlaras. Naboo will be fortunate no matter what you choose, because whatever you do, you will be the best at it. That is simply who you are."

His thumb brushed lightly across her knuckles before he went on. "It was wrong of me, before, to push that image on you. To speak of you as Naboo's future as though it were your duty to wear such a mantle. I did it because I saw your grace, your fire, and your strength, and I thought..." He paused, drawing a breath, his amber eyes fixed on hers. "I thought I could take the brunt of the difficult years, the weight of Naboo's unrest, and leave you something steadier. A place where your gifts could flourish without being dragged down by the rot. I was always thinking of what would be best for you, even when it wasn't my place."

Aurelian let the silence stretch for a moment, his expression softening. "You could be anything, Sibylla. Anything you desire. But I'll tell you this: the people would be lucky, even blessed, to call you their Queen. And as for the kind of Queen you would be?" He tilted his head, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "There's no need to torment yourself with questions of that just yet. There's time. I still don't know what kind of King I am, or will be."

He leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting toward the waterfall beyond the window, golden light spilling across the library alcove. Then he looked back at her, his amber eyes flickering with something deep and heavy.

"The truth is, I never wanted to be King," he admitted, his tone much quieter now. "If I had my way, I would have lived a simple life. Nothing more than hunting, riding, or sculpting misshapen lumps of clay until one resembled something worth keeping. I was always forced to be more than I was, to do more, to take up burdens I never asked for." His lips curved into a small, wry smile. "Don't mistake me, I quite like being King now. But most days I feel lost, more than anything."

He shifted, releasing one of her hands to rake his own through his hair, an old habit surfacing with the weight of his confession. He chuckled faintly, a sound lacking humor but not warmth. "Once, during one of those lost stretches, I visited a shaman. I was desperate, unsure how much more I could take of my family's demands and the weighty expectations." He leaned forward again, elbows braced on his knees, his amber eyes holding hers unflinchingly. "She spoke to me of prophecy: that I would lead Naboo into greatness, that my people would love me, and that I would start a family and find purpose at last."

His voice lowered, soft as if admitting a secret. "She told me you were part of it, Sibylla Abrantes. That you were to be protected, and that you would shape Naboo's future as surely as I would. That our paths were... entwined." Aurelian gave a small laugh, shaking his head. "Perhaps it was all lies. Perhaps she told me exactly what I wanted to hear. But I found something to believe in. A path that mattered, people I wanted to stand beside, a culture I wanted to see flourish."

He reached for her hand again, steadying it between his own. "I don't know if I'll be any good at this, Sibylla. But I have to believe in something. And looking back on it now..." His smile softened, unguarded. "I'm glad I did it all the same way. It brought us here. We grew close, rather than perpetuating a feud."

Aurelian leaned in then, his dangerous smile resurfacing, now softened by the warmth of affection in his gaze. "And for the record," he said, his tone growing playful and teasing, "my methods were not improper." He added, "And if memory serves, you quite enjoy my shameless disregard for personal space."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Aurelian Veruna ​

For a long moment, Sibylla sat with bated breath, her chest rising and falling as though even that small rhythm might betray her. What would Aurelian think of all she had revealed? What would he say? Would he dismiss her as foolish for admitting so much?

It was the first time she had given voice to everything that had festered in her since before the campaign, back to her years as Ambassador to the Mandalorian Empire. If she was honest, the roots reached further still, to Lysander's warning of pawns and Dejarik boards, of the danger of being moved as a piece rather than playing her own hand. That seed had lingered ever since, feeding the question that had haunted her: were her choices truly her own, or had she only followed the path others laid out, convincing herself it was what she wanted all along?

The unease had grown with every gala, every meeting, every declaration from allies and rivals alike who saw her as Naboo's golden banner. The perfect daughter of House Abrantes, destined to rule. And though she had spoken parts of it to Cassian, this was the whole truth in its unfiltered form.

Silly worry twisted her belly for a few heartwrenching heartbeats, until her breath caught when Aurelian reached up to carefully steady the crown on her head as though steadying her doubts with it. His fingers brushed aside a stray curl, lingering against her cheek in a graze that made her pulse skip.

He was doing it again, watching her with that look, with that soft smile, the one that unraveled her in careful, deliberate knots. The one she never quite knew how to answer, no matter how hard she tried. That warmth bloomed in her chest once more, spreading beneath the weight of his eyes. It deepened when he promised, with rare sincerity, that he would never force her into a role she did not wish to play. Not even as a companion to his reckless escapades with Guarlara.

The unexpected tease amid his earnestness startled a nervous laugh from her. She shook her head slowly, careful not to disturb the crown, but welcomed the grounding warmth of his hands, the comforting brush of his thumb over her knuckles.

And as he went on, reassuring her that Naboo would be fortunate in whatever form she chose because that was simply who she was, she listened in silence. His apology followed, his admission that he had been wrong to push the image of Naboo's banner upon her, that he had done it believing he was acting in her best interest.

It left her wondering why. Why had he thought it? Why had he believed he had to decide what was best for her? They had not been close then, not truly. At best, they had only just begun to move past the wariness of allies bound by necessity during those long nights negotiating the Sundari Treaty. Surely that was not enough to make him see her as a future Queen.

The answer came in his revelation thereafter. That he had never wanted the throne. That his House had pressured him with expectations upon him. That in feeling lost, he clung to a Shaman's prophecy as his tether and purpose. Sibylla's eyes widened as shock flickered across her face, the pieces falling into place. Suddenly, his declaration on Rainspire made sense, then on Foundation Day, and every moment his conviction had radiated through his words and his posture.

Because he truly believed he was walking in Fate's shadow. And somehow she was entwined in it. Sibylla could only stare, caught between disbelief and an unwelcome pang of empathy. She could understand why he had clung to it. Purpose was a rare and precious thing. If he found it even in prophecy, was that so different from her own reliance on duty?

Her hazel eyes lingered on his, searching for the conviction that had always seemed to shine there. A small breath left her and she gave the faintest shake of her head, a wry curve tugging at her lips.

"Truth be told... I don't know whether you or I are tied to any prophecy or fate. But what I do trust are the choices we make. Yours and mine. They've led us here. And whatever words a shaman once spoke, I know this much: it was not fate, not some predetermination, that granted you my loyalty, my trust, and..." Her voice caught, softer now, the warmth in her gaze betraying her. "...my admiration."

Her fingers tightened gently around his. "That, Aurelian, is mine to give. Not prophecy's. Not anyone else's."

But then, incorrigible as ever, Aurelian leaned closer, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth while playful warmth glimmered in his amber eyes, boldly accusing her of enjoying his shameless disregard for boundaries.

Heat flooded Sibylla's cheeks so swiftly in a bright blush, painting her heartshaped face in betrayal. Her mouth opened, closed, then pressed into a stubborn line as her hazel eyes narrowed, sparks flashing. Aurelian had baited her with his teasing. And Shiraya help her, she took it.

Her chin lifted, lips curving into a defiant smile, half challenge, half amusement.

"Still testing the limits, are you? Careful, Aurelian. Lean too close, and you may find your charming grin earns you more than words in return," she quipped back. Very well, if he insisted his methods were not improper, then he would learn what it meant to be on the receiving end.

"Though something tells me you'd welcome the challenge more than you should."

Slipping her hand free from his, Sibylla leaned forward, closing the distance to mere inches as he had with her before. Light caught on the crown as though mocking the shift in power. Her fingers rose, finally brushing back the unruly strands that had fallen over his brow, lingering deliberately in mimicry of his own touch. They traced down the sharp line of his jaw until her hand curled beneath his chin. With the barest pressure, she tipped his head up, graceful and daring all at once.

When she finally spoke, her soft voice fell into a low, intimate murmur, a mirror of the very tone he so often wielded against her.

"I'm rather good at learning from example. Do not think you're the only one who can wield proximity like a weapon."