Private The Unwritten Overture

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Theed Concert Hall
Tags: Lysander von Ascania

Aurelian swirled the amber liquid in his glass, the condensation cooling his palm while the heat of the crowded suite pressed against his back. The air was thick with the scent of roasted game and the syrupy perfumes of the Naboo elite. He ignored the mindless chatter of the delegates behind him. To them, this was an evening of culture; to Aurelian, it was a tedious exercise in staying awake. He leaned his chin on his hand, eyes scanning the sea of faces in the hall below like a predator watching a watering hole.

A flash of pale gold caught his eye. It was a specific, stubborn shade of blonde that belonged to the von Ascania line. Aurelian straightened, his smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Lysander. The name felt like a coin flipping in his mind. Rumor said the man had crawled back from the Trinity with Chancellor Vexx, yet here he was, drifting through the crowd like a ghost. For a moment, he looked solitary, but a shadowed figure lingered just a step behind him. An escort, or perhaps a leash.

"How dull to be kept on such a short string," Aurelian murmured to the glass.

Aurelian simply raised two fingers, a sharp, silent command that cut through the social noise. The Kingsguard materialized at his shoulder, a silent extension of his own will. Aurelian's gaze never left the blonde head in the distance.

"Him," Aurelian said, his voice low. "Bring him here. Invite him to share the royal view. Ensure his shadow stays exactly where they are. I want him alone."

He watched from his high perch as the black-cloaked guards descended into the crowd. They moved with a terrifying politeness, intercepting the Sith delegate and his companion. There was a brief, tense exchange, the kind that made the air around them go cold. Then, the escort was peeled away, left standing amongst the common guests while Lysander was led toward the private lift.

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[Lysander von Ascania]

Aurelian Veruna​

Lysander found himself at the crowd’s periphery. Naboo’s essence continued to strike him in unexpected ways. Everything was refracted through the prism of who he’d become. The place knew his bones, but his sins rendered him a stranger here. The strings called to him as they wept their melody. Closing his eyes, he recognized how his years with the Sith transformed how he received music. More appreciation and understanding, perhaps, because discipline was what made its beauty possible. Control behind each note..

He traced the floor patterns, to purposefully avoid eye contact, aware it could create social obligations that would be impossible to fulfill. Both hands found each other behind his back without conscious thought. Maybe it was a noble’s posture, or even something he’d picked up in the Outer Rim where empty palms meant survival. Whatever its origins, it brought comfort.

For a moment, his eyelids closed once more in retreat. When he looked again, a black‑cloaked figure stood directly in front of him.

Two identical shadows positioned behind. Impressive timing, even by a Sith’s standards.

“His Majesty requests a private audience.”

He held to neutrality, though beneath it, curiosity bloomed. Not an arrest, at least, Lysander reasoned.

The escort’s sharp inhale was enough to signal the beginning of protest.

“The Crown’s authority supersedes yours,” the guard cut in, “Do not speak.”

Fingers remained interlaced even as he stepped into the lift, refusing to acknowledge the guards further. When the doors sealed, his posture shifted. Vertebrae realigned with the elevation of his jaw, a physical manifestation of an interior truth not spoken aboard the Trinity.. that his role was far beyond diplomatic messenger.

A face he knew only from intelligence reports awaited. Spine unbent, he breathed the title into the space between them. "Your Majesty." His gaze touched on the drink in the king's hand before finding the view beyond the balcony. "There are ancient philosophers who wrote that from these heights, power appears the same, no matter which throne someone occupies."

Calculated steps followed, stopping at a distance that was respectful only by protocol. "I find myself wondering what you see when you look down at them," the words unfurled slowly, "Do you see pawns awaiting sacrifice in a greater game, or citizens whose hopes still matter."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Tags: Lysander von Ascania

Aurelian didn't turn when the lift hissed open. He kept his eyes on the velvet curtains of the stage, tracking the shift in the room's gravity as Lysander approached. The man's voice carried the dusty weight of old books and distant stars. Aurelian let the silence stretch, long enough to be an insult, before he finally slanted his head toward the newcomer. He gestured lazily to the empty seat beside him, his expression flickering with amused disbelief.

"Do you always speak in poems?" Aurelian asked. He didn't wait for an answer, turning his attention back to the masses below. "What I see are my people. They are enjoying an evening I provided for them. I see lives I've sworn to protect, but I also see an eyesore. You stick out, Lysander. You caught my eye, and now we have things to discuss."

He studied the man over the rim of his glass. It was hard to reconcile this grim philosopher with the ghost stories of the palace. This was the boy Sibylla once mooned over like a schoolgirl. The brother to Cora, the uncle to little Lucy. He looked less like a legend and more like a man trying too hard to hide behind a mask of intellect. Aurelian felt the familiar itch of irritation. He had no patience for shadows that pretended to be statues.

"That was a poor first impression," Aurelian said, his voice sharpening. "Don't try to box me into some dead scholar's stereotype. I don't know what they taught you in that fanatical cult you call a Covenant, but we speak plainly here. I'm the sort of man who tells you when I'm about to stick a knife in your back. I expect the same courtesy from you."

A server drifted near, offering a tray of delicate hors d'oeuvres as the house lights began to dim. Aurelian dismissed the girl with a sharp flick of his wrist, his focus narrowing entirely on Lysander. The theater fell into a heavy, expectant hush.

"Now, let's skip the riddles," Aurelian leaned in, his smile losing its warmth. "Why are you really here? Tell me exactly what you hope to gain by trailing behind our dear Chancellor like a stray dog."

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[Lysander von Ascania]

Aurelian Veruna​

Lysander slowly sank into the offered seat. The hostility was to be expected, tediously so. Another ruler fixated only on the Sith emblem, or another enemy wearing black. How they loved their simple categorizations, and fair enough, this particular one carried centuries of blood soaked history.

"If that first impression disappointed you.." he murmured, tilting his head just enough to reveal a thread of something gentler. Pity, perhaps, for the predictable prejudice. "Then we both find ourselves equally underwhelmed. Sith. Covenant. Cult. Enemy." Each word was counted with a tap of his index finger against his knee. "I find that labels tend to be convenient shortcuts for more complex realities. Choose whichever makes you most comfortable. I've collected them all by now."

He shifted forward, studying the man through half lidded eyes. No drink had been offered, but the tension in the air could be tasted like aged wine on the tongue.

"I'm not here to categorize you or to be categorized myself. At this very moment, I'm only trying to understand what kind of ruler the Republic has found in you. What principles guide your hand, the visions shape your governance." A heartbeat of silence was allowed before adding casually, "Or perhaps.. your lack of foresight." Because the initial question would've been simpler groundwork.

His gaze drifted momentarily to the crowd below, the lights reflecting in his pupils before he blinked and returned his attention to the High Republic's sovereign. "Every leader casts a unique shadow across their lands." And there he went again, lips retreating into metaphors.. his natural language some might say. This tendency to philosophize.. was truly both a gift and a burden. Just like his connection to the Force. But.. it preserved him when navigating dangerous waters in the past, before Sith Lords that could warp reality and erase him with nothing more than a thought.

"My return to Naboo happened because the Chancellor granted me a small token of trust with this assignment. But I also came because I often perceive what others miss. Decisions made on Jutrand, Coruscant, or elsewhere will eventually touch this planet." He would then ease back, relaxing his shoulders.

Every fortress had a gate; everyone had a truth they protected. The blonde always guarded his fiercely.

"Tell me plainly then, are you someone I can work with, or someone I'll have to work around."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Tags: Lysander von Ascania

Aurelian let out a soft, mocking huff of laughter. "Ah, yes. I nearly forgot. The poor, misunderstood Sith. Wreaking havoc on the Core and burning worlds is just a complex reality, isn't it?" He kept his voice low, his eyes fixed on the stage as the first notes of the orchestra rose to meet the dimming lights. The man was a rambling bore. Aurelian couldn't fathom why Chancellor Vexx had dragged this particular relic back from the Trinity. Windrun or Star-Arm would have been far more entertaining guests. At least they didn't hide their teeth behind a lecture on governance.

"Decisions you made will touch Naboo, yes," Aurelian conceded. He took a slow, deliberate sip of his drink, feeling the burn in his throat. "But we are prepared. I am prepared. I don't need a lecture on foresight from a man who lost his way in the dark."

He finally looked at Lysander, his smile returning, sharp and unkind. The Jedi-turned-Sith had finally asked a real question, and Aurelian found the honesty refreshing enough to warrant a lethal answer.

"You won't have to work around me, Lysander." Aurelian let the silence hang for a moment, savoring the weight of the words. "You will have to work against me. I intend to make every second of your stay on this planet as difficult as possible." He wouldn't have tolerated the man this long if not for the blood in his veins. The name von Ascania still carried weight with him, even if the man wearing it was a disappointment.

Aurelian leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. He was finished with the diplomatic posturing. It was time to find the nerve. "Tell me something interesting instead. What was your sister's reaction to your little career change? How does Cora feel about her brother's proclivities within the Force and the company he keeps?" He watched Lysander closely, hoping to see a crack in that polished, philosophical exterior. "Does she know you've come home as a stray for the Covenant?"

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[Lysander von Ascania]

Aurelian Veruna​

Lysander’s gaze found both the stage and the opening swell or stings. He listened, processed everything as he always would, some words resonating deeper than others. There were some partial truths in there, but they were nestled among misconceptions. Chances were, anything he offered would be difficult to hear, no matter how it was phrased; some wounds between the Sith orders and Republic ensured that much..

“Have you ever actually been there when a world burns?” Sometimes, he could still feel Pelagon’s heat prickle across his face. “You talk like someone who’s only read about tragedy in holotexts or seen them in holovids. When you’ve watched everything change because of someone else’s call, you don’t waste time with the kind of simplistic nonsense you’re spouting.” Further explanation would’ve been futile. The Republic’s king wasn’t seeking understanding.

The address concluded. His glacial focus remained fixed ahead A small breath frosted between his lips as the blades glanced off armor of indifferences.. all except one. The mention of his sister. For all his discipline, that found a hairline fracture.

“Preparation.” As a Sith, he savored the irony of the word. “A term bureaucracies deploy when they’ve already failed. It gives the frightened folk the illusion of control because their foundations are already crumbling. No different than Jedi with their comfort blankets.”

Another exhale betrayed the storm beneath. “Perhaps my temporary presence here is for the best. The Republic has demonstrated a consistent inability to protect its own citizens. A basic duty, is it not? Yet still beyond your grasp.” His jaw contracted. “Being fundamentally incapable, along with your negligence, leaves Ukatis and Cora vulnerable. Meanwhile, your institutions just continue to posture and preen.” Had the Triumvirate heard such concern, they might’ve strangled him then and there.

“Don’t dare call it speculation. Your former Chancellor was extracted from what should have been impenetrable security. Edic Bar fell without any sense of resistance.“ He allowed himself the smallest shake of his head. “A senator in Marlon’s custody.” The blonde’s hand carved a dismissive and elegant arc in the air. “It’s all evidence of failure. An assessment that's well documented.”

Only then did he pivot to meet that satisfied smile, one that was impossible to reciprocate. “No.. not failure. It's humiliation that echoes across every star system.” His voice slid back into something calmer. "This has clarified a great deal. I’ll work around whatever obstacles you present."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Tags: Lysander von Ascania

Aurelian let out a loud, theatrical groan, rolling his head back against the plush velvet of his seat. Shiraya, this man was insufferable. He had always held a certain level of respect for the Von Ascania name, but Lysander was single-handedly drowning his opinion of the entire lineage. If this was the best the Sith could send, the Trinity must be even more mind-numbingly dull than the Republic's Senate. He didn't know if Corazona could ever salvage the family reputation after this performance.

"Do you speak just to hear the sound of your own voice?" Aurelian interrupted, his tone dripping with exhaustion. "Yes, yes, the Republic is a big failure. We've established your script. But tell me, what will you do when that 'failure' finally roots your cult out of the Core?"

He waved a dismissive hand, cutting off the inevitable monologue before it could start. He had no interest in another lecture on the mechanics of burning worlds or the shortcomings of bureaucracy.

He turned his head to fix Lysander with an expectant look. "Shiraya, tell me something interesting for once. Have you even met Lucy?" He tapped his fingers rhythmically against his glass, his eyes dancing with a sudden, malicious spark. If he was going to be stuck in this suite, he wanted blood or secrets, preferably both.

"Why did you really leave the Jedi?" Aurelian leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hum. "Was it the robes, or did you just realize you were better at killing? How many thousands of innocents have you ended to earn that brooding stare? Give me something real, Lysander. Anything to divert us from this bore of a conversation."

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