Private The Warm Winter

[Corazona von Ascania]

This winter on Ukatis had been relatively mild.

Mild winter meant earlier planting. Early planting meant higher yields, but an increase in pests. Their harvests were expanding both in number and type, with a projected abundance by the summer months. Success, unfortunately, doesn’t preclude from growing pains.

A mild winter also meant more temperate days.

The last time they had met beneath the oak tree overlooking their childhood home, Cora had been sitting. Wounded, she could only rest her back against its broad, gnarled trunk.

Now, she stood. Stood swaying on her feet, murmuring soft words to the well-wrapped bundle in her arms. Little coos and gurgles floated up from the blankets and bubbled around her heart.

Keeping in touch with Lysander was akin to holding a hot brand. It burned her, yet Cora could not find it in her to let go. It wasn't rational, but familial bonds never claimed to be anything but.

How could he have made the choice to embrace the very same power that had hurt her? That had hurt Ukatis?

Lucy babbled away in her arms, content with the world. Cora would shield her from it if she could, all of it - but she would know her Uncle.

How he wanted to be known by his niece was up to him.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Corazona von Ascania​

Sounds that were impossibly gentle reached his ears; it wasn't Cora, but Luciana, and he found himself slowing. Despite the risk involved, he had only just returned to Ukatis. Madelyn Lowe 's investigation was tightening. Even after obligations upon Oublette were completed, it did little to quell her suspicion.

The Covenant was ever vigilant for a leak, though Lysander never shared information with anyone. Still, his communication with Cora, even if it often felt one-sided, would undoubtedly invite suspicion to the wrong eyes.

Useful as it was, the office in the Senate building on Coruscant could never compare; for someone who longed for life and open air, only this place resembled home. Lysander crested the rise and the oak came into view. He stopped a few paces short. From the glimpse he caught of his niece, something in him tightened; not fear, but something he didn’t quite have a name for..

The breeze snatched at the edges of his jacket. Black.. naturally. Everything was. Unmistakably Sith in every single detail. At his side hung the curved lightsaber hilt. He knew Cora wouldn't approve, but he didn't bother to hide it; this was who he was now.

“I’m sorry,” the words slipped out before he could second guess them. “That I couldn’t be here sooner.”

There was a small flex of muscle along the line of his jaw. “Things on Coruscant..” He hunted for words that didn’t sound like an excuse. It proved difficult. “They’ve been complicated.”

A breath unwound from his chest. “I’ve missed this place.. and it’s really nice to see you again, Cora.”

His emerald gaze descended to the tiny, swaddled miracle nestled in her arms. New life.. new hope. A warm smile ghosted across his lips, disturbing the severity of a youthful visage. The scar along his cheekbone moved with it.. a fresh line from Genarius, a twin to the one his sister bore. Strange how the galaxy carved them in parallel. There was something poetic in that, he supposed. But then again, she had always been his north star, no matter how far Lysander wandered from the Light.

“.. She’s so small.”

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Lysander did not look much different than when they had last met - somehow, though, the subtle changes that had accumulated over time made him seem different. Feel different.

But not too different. He was not so far gone down that winding, dark path that she couldn't recognize her own brother through the sharp cut of his jaw, nor the grimness of his clothes.

She said nothing to his mention of Coruscant, but something painful tightened her expression. It was like salt in a wound. A wound that was growing faster than she could try and mend it.

Coruscant had, at one point, been her home. When Marcel had disowned her, she'd live in exile from Ukatis. Cora had never felt quite at home in its vastly urban terrain, but it had embraced her during a time of struggle.

Soft babbles came as a momentary reprieve from the cycle of grief that felt endless. Cora couldn't help the way that she smiled, tender and tired, down at her daughter.

"She is small," came her murmured agreement. Two fingers skimmed a dark, wispy curl back from the babe's forehead. "But she's healthy. Loud, too, when she wants something."

Cora has come to the realization that she wasn't a particularly good Jedi. She was overly sentimental and played favorites. With Ukatis, with her family. She could name a handful of contemporaries who would've had her head for fraternizing with Lysander. Even more would, or have, levied sharp criticism at her.

Lysander's path had been his own choice. So was her own.

Cora turned so that Lysander could see Luciana's face. She'd sent him photos, well aware that it couldn't compare to seeing the child in person. Her skin had evened and smoothed out post-birth, and now several months old, she could fix her wide blue eyes on Lysander in what amounted to an infant's ceaseless curiosity.

"Why don't you put that lightsaber down," she gestured gently with her chin to the curved hilt clipped at her brother's waist, "and come hold your niece?"

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Corazona von Ascania​

Lysander wasn’t sure which stung worse, being aware of his sister's ache, or that she tried to hide the wound from him. It shouldn't have surprised him, not after their last encounter, but the pattern still felt like betrayal.

At first, it was strange as his hand hovered near the hilt, like he was unsure whether to comply or resist; after years in the Outer Rim, such a request sounded like a death sentence.

But it was the inquisitive gaze of a tiny, curious face that drove Lysander to heed her beckoning, as something tugged deep within.

“.. right,” murmured into the space between them.

With a click, he crouched down, placing it at the base of the oak tree.. the same tree that had witnessed their growth and now the fracture. Lysander only wished she might allow him to mend what had broken. A hesitant step drew him closer, as though approaching something fragile. In that very moment, the Sith persona melted away, leaving behind something far more vulnerable.. a brother.

Closing the short distance, he scanned her features like some kind of mysterious puzzle; of course he was searching for anything familiar, which was why his focus shifted back and forth a few times. And there they were, Cora's eyes, and glimpses Makko too. That was enough to elicit a huff of air.. amusement. The color in his gaze warmed. And finally, a genuine smile, a sight reserved only for a select few within the Covenant. Brief, sure.. but it was nice..

“She’s beautiful.. you’ve done well.”

Three months late..

Even with an invitation, something in him sought reassurance.. even rarer for the blonde.

“May I?”

Both hands rose and opened with a tremor as he reached for the niece that knew nothing of him. Someone too new in the galaxy to judge what he’d become.

“Hello there.. there you are, hm.”

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

At last, the clouds seemed to part over her smile. Cora could still recall a time when she’d held Lysander in this way. Granted, she’d been much younger then. Just a child herself.

“Mind her head, now,” she murmured as the babe was carefully transferred into her brother’s arms. Cora showed him how to support Lucy’s neck in the same way the nursemaids had once taught her to support his own.

For her part, Luciana didn’t seem fussed my the change in hands. Wide blue eyes stared unabashedly up at Lysander. The warmth of her mother was replaced by that of her uncle.

“She looks different now than in the pictures I sent you,” Cora murmured with no small amount of fondness. Those had been shortly after Lucy’s birth, wrinkled and pink. Now, her cheeks were beginning to fill out with that baby-brand softness.

So much had separated the pair of siblings. Distance, time, and ideology. They both struggled to come to terms with how decisions affected their relationship, but in this moment, Cora could only see her brother.

There was still good in him. Still compassion, still tenderness. She saw it, clear as day, when he gazed down at the bundle.

“Her birth was…intense. In a stalled elevator.” Amusement curled at the edges of her tone as Cora shook her head. “Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

It was dramatic enough for one of those holodramas they couldn’t help but devour.

“Still,” she continued softly, “everything went well in the end. I’m glad that you have the chance to meet her. And…” A sharp intake of breath filled the space between words. “And just to…to see you again.”

A tiny, chubby hand broke free of the blankets. Little fingers grasped for her uncle’s long blonde hair, familiar in its shape and color.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Corazona von Ascania​

Luciana's weight wasn't the first thing that undid him. She was warm in a way that surprised Lysander, like a tiny sun gathered into blankets, placed into the crook of his arms. As his sister spoke, he was careful to adjust his wrist, so that he could give support beneath the hinge of her neck.

He’d held weapons, holocrons, wounded Sith, dying enemies, but.. nothing had ever emanated this pure and gentle light simply from being alive.

From a body that seemed to float effortlessly, there was a soft rise and fall of her breathing. Fingers quivered momentarily, and he silently prayed that Cora hadn't noticed.

The story that unfolded made his eyes dart upward. Honestly, he couldn't tell if she was joking or serious at first. What was he supposed to say with that information? A lone brow arched skeptically. If he weren’t so occupied cradling his niece, he totally would've given her the signature roll of his eyes.

“Only you,” came words with fond exasperation. “Only you would manage something like that. Were you alone?”

And well, the rest stayed where it probably belonged. Brotherly and wry. You idiot, how did you even manage that?

Could've been worse. With their family, it usually was.

The confession was dragged from a part of him rarely visited. "I'm.. glad too. I don't get to be here as much as I'd like."

Something brushed softly against his forearm. Was she on the verge of fussing or tears? Chubby little fingers curled around a lock of his hair with.. unexpected strength. His head bowed, leaning closer to meet hers.

"Hey, careful! That's attached."

The hold stayed firm.

"You really don't want to let go, do you?

A little puff of air brushed his sleeve.. accompanied by a sound that could have easily been mistaken for a figment of his imagination. But then it came again.. a light airy giggle that danced on the wind.

"Alright.. you can keep it."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora could’ve spent an eternity watching the way Lysander’s nervous apprehension turned into reverence as he cradled Luciana.

Something so small, so tiny, had instantly made her galaxy stop and hold its breath. Now, she’d done it again.

Cora’s lips pursed, then quirked upwards at Lysander’s tone. A crumpled little smile that recognized the affection in her brother’s voice. “No,” she said. “I wasn’t alone. I had the King of Naboo for a midwife.”

The circumstances of Luciana’s birth felt so far away, now. It had been chaotic and stressful beyond any measurable degree, and yet, it had lead to moments like this one. Quiet, soft moments of mutual tenderness.

“Makko got us out,” she added. “So he was there to see his daughter born, and Aurelian’s pocket square became the galaxy’s most expensive baby blanket.”

Cora took a half step closer when Lucy grabbed a lock of Lysander’s hair, but didn’t yet intervene.

For her part, Luciana gazed up at Lysander with wide blue eyes. She felt the warmth of his arms and the faint rumble in his chest as he spoke. He leaned in closer, and Lucy’s chubby cheeks split into a gummy, toothless grin.

It was a sound that her parents would never tire of - that light, grunting bubble of laughter. All the while, her little fist remained rooted in blonde locks.

“Careful,” Cora mused in warning. “She likes to-“

With a happy squeal, Luciana’s hand jerked, and she yanked on her uncle’s hair with surprising strength.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Corazona von Ascania​

Cora’s warning fluttered through the air too late to make any difference. Lysander's brows shot up in surprise. Strange, almost.. a Sith Knight of the Covenant, emissary, squad leader, currently held in place by a hand no bigger than two of his fingers!

.. And that was alright. Carefully, he shifted his stance, easing so she wouldn't be jostled.

Slowly, the vibrant gaze drifted down toward the small tyrant wrapped snugly in his arms. After a slow blink, the next breath blossomed into a soft laugh.. like he was rediscovering a sound after so many years without it.

"Well," came the softer voice, mindful of the space they shared, "I see the warning came with excellent timing.."

Lysander was quite unsure how to proceed without forcing her grip open. So, one hand moved on, settling to support her comfortably. It was becoming easier..

“She’s very determined,” he noted after another moment. “And in this family.. that definitely checks out.”

The warmth made him momentarily forget he was very much at his niece's mercy.

“I’m aware of him.”

Through a different context of course. Intelligence briefings. Diplomatic tendencies. Potential trade alignment.

“Midwifery wasn't among his listed talents on file,” added with a modest smile.

Another enthusiastic yank followed, paired with a gleeful little noise.

“Luciana, if you keep that hold much longer, your uncle may have to negotiate for his hair.”

A forward tilt accompanied the words. “But.. that’s alright. Every good alliance starts with just a little stubbornness.”

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

If Lysander had been any other person, perhaps Cora would’ve freed him from the tyranny of Luciana’s tiny grip - but perhaps a part of her sought mild revenge against the stress he’d caused her.

That, and she didn’t want to interrupt their bonding. Luciana and Lysander were still very new to each other.

He might notice that Cora’s hair, normally worn down, was swept up into a bun for a reason.

“I wouldn’t call it a talent,” came her dry remark, delivered softly. “But I suppose that you can add ‘adaptable’ to your list.”

Corazona and Lysander had both come to the silent understanding that this meeting between them did not happen. Even sending messages was beginning to get risky - but nothing here felt like a risk, strangely. Just an Uncle visiting his childhood home to meet his newborn niece.

“She likes it when we read to her, I think.” Cora swept her fingertips along Lucy’s hairline, pushing back dark, thin wisps. “She likes the sound of our voices. I read to her like I did to you, when you were little.”

A handful of years separated the siblings, enough for Cora to enter her teen years while Lysander was still young. Her little shadow had now grown out from under her into a person of his own.

One that would cast a long, long shadow of his own.

Cora’s hand drifted into her pocket, retrieving a colorful plastic ring with a ball in the center. She passed it to Lysander discretely.

“When you’re ready to start negotiating, you can try this.”

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Corazona von Ascania​

The ring slid into his palm, curling around it with an incredulous huff. It was almost as if she'd been reluctant to reveal the cure. Lucy's own little fingers shot toward his hair again, and so his head tilted to slip away. The suddenness caught him off guard.. again. After years of training to become a living weapon, now he was navigating some fragile art of gentleness.

"You read to her," the Sith echoed, voice difting somewhere off far older. Amusement might've ghosted his youthful visage, but something tightened the line of his throat.

A gentle exhale slipped past his lips, and a small smile curved. “You were good at it.” Those nights remained vivid in memory.

Some part of him never stopped needing that.

Lucy made a noise that instantly registered as impatient, and so he remembered to lift the toy. The color captured her attention, and the fist unclenched his hair. Relief hit first, followed by what was suspiciously like a shadow of grief.

“Successful negotiation,” rolled out in a murmur. Lysander carefully eased her more against his chest. She responded with coo, still enchanted with the object. His expression cracked open a little more. The mix of warmth and trust, in truth, was overwhelming. Both more than he could handle and somehow, not enough..

“I’m glad you weren’t alone,” finally added after a stretch of silence. “You shouldn’t have been.”

He never looked away from the little life he cradled, even as happiness and sorrow braided together in his chest.. impossible to separate.

Then the fabric of his jacket shifted under the grip of her hand. An old signal flickered behind his eyes. Once.. it would've meant tears. Now, unused for years, and worn out of him through training, nothing answered.

“If she likes being read to,” barely above a breath, “I’d.. I’d like to do that for her too. If I can.”

Because in some ways, beyond the rage and lightning everyone was so often fixated on, life as a Sith carried stark grace. Out here in the Mid Rim, most took their comforts and privileges for granted. But for someone like him, aside from darker pursuits, he also understood every day was a gift.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora let the moment between Luciana and Lysander breathe before her, a silent observer to the gentle, reverent disposition of her brother.

It was a testament to the hope she still clung to; he was not too far gone.

She wasn't aware that he'd been knighted, that he'd had a hand in Tapani and Genarius and all the rest. He'd crossed blades with her friends, yet none of them had told Cora. Perhaps they didn't want to upset her. Being a new mother was tender business.

Luciana gurgled against Lysander's shoulder, and the toy slipped from her grasp. Cora knelt to retrieve it from the soft grass.

"I'm glad that I wasn't alone, either," she admitted. "It was the most vulnerable I've felt in a while. They don't tell you about that in the books." There was an edge of mirth to her otherwise soft tone.

The toy was rubbed between the fabric of her skirt before passing back into tiny hands.

Cora drew in a breath. Held it. Let it swim around in her lungs before exhaling slowly.

"I don't…see that being a problem," she murmured. "We still have the same book that I read to you. The one with all of the illustrations."

A ghost of a smile threaded the line of her lips as she recalled the scent of warm sunbeams on stone. A much younger Lysander in her lap, the ancient grimoire bound in old Ukatian leather held out in front of them as she read, slow and steady.

Absently, or perhaps instinctively, she placed a gentle hand on his forearm.

"I think she'd like that."

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Corazona von Ascania​

Lysander didn't follow the toy as it slipped from his niece's fingers. He didn't flinch either; something within him finally relaxed. Even if the Covenant were just ten paces away, datapads logging every movement, his attention wouldn't have diverted. If tenderness somehow counted as treason, well, he'd just face the consequences whenever they arrived.

“Books make vulnerability look elegant,” the words fell slowly as a soft smile found its shape, “But.. the truth is never that polite.” For a breath or two, twin emeralds wandered naturally beyond, tracing where the sky embraced the earth. “I hope Luciana gets a world that doesn’t ask her to be brave so soon.”

Eighteen in the Covenant was older than eighteen anywhere else. He experienced enough nights alone amid the Core to understand the trajectory of his future, just as he also accepted the idea that he wouldn’t have children, and that Coruscant would be where he spent whatever years he had left. Whatever end the Force had written, really.

“Even if my place in her life is brief.. let the one truth she keeps be that she was loved.” He wasn’t accustomed to speaking before he’d dissected the thought, but this one managed to slip free on its own. The smile tugged once more, shifting the scar that cut across his cheekbone.

“I remember,” added thoughtfully, “Those illustrations.. you would always drag your finger along the page so I wouldn’t lose my place. I was so hopeless at paying attention back then.”

Tiny legs wiggled full of life, and he rocked her without thinking. “You’d always tap my hand every time I tried to sneak ahead and reach for the last page. I always wanted to know the ending before understanding the middle part.”

When a hand landed on his arm, Lysander's jaw tightened just a little. As he had done for years, his gaze dipped, noting whether it was the prosthetic or the organic. Clearing his throat, the sound escaped in a way that barely graced the air. “So.. tell me the middle. How are things on Ukatis? Really.”

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

But the truth is never that polite.

Cora’s chest tightened. “No,” she murmured. “I suppose that it never is.”

A slow breath lifted her ribs, easing that tightness little by little. There was something about Ukatis air, clean and crisp, that couldn’t quite compare to anywhere else.

Cora’s expression softened, tender with silent pain. She wore it well. “Things will be different for her,” she murmured, hand skimming dark curls at the crown of Lucy’s head.

Many women on Ukatis had become wives before eighteen. Cora had, and she’d been widowed before her nineteenth year.

She didn’t miss the somber tinge in Lysander’s voice. It was less of a lament, and more of a reality. Cora’s stomach dropped again, a heavy weight hanging in her gut. “She’ll know,” came her murmur, barely above a whisper. “I’ll make sure that she knows.”

He would cross lines, if they hadn't already been crossed. Cora had been too busy to look critically at Lysander’s journey, couldn’t pinpoint when his mission of self-discovery became an embrace of dark philosophy. The NJO has collapsed, and she couldn’t shoulder the burden. Ukatis had become her focus, and she’d done what she could to ensure the little agriworld’s safety.

One day, she would be able to ignore his sins no longer. The dance was tiring. The Sith had swallowed the core, and her brother was on the cusp of becoming a juggernaut.

Lysander’s voice gilded the periphery of her mind, stirring pleasant images of their innocent youth. The corners of her lips managed to lift, chasing the grim veil from her face.

“They are changing,” she declared. There was quiet strength to her voice now, and her head lifted a little higher. “This world has produced its first crop surplus in decades - lead by Ascania Provence.” Her gaze tilted to him, knowing. “We’re adopting more modern farming techniques and tools. Enriching soil once thought barren. Plans for a college that welcomes women are underway, too.”

It was easier to test these innovations in their home territory first, rather than convince a round table of stuffy old men to benefits of Morodin fertilizer or educating their daughters. Let the results speak for themselves, let the people see and feel change.

“I helped co-author a decree that raises the marriageable age to eighteen. I hope to legalize divorce, next. So that women have a legal pathway in separating themselves from a poor marriage that won’t involve pushing their husbands from the high tower.”

Cora brushed an absent speck of dust from her sleeve. Or maybe it wasn't so absent.

“Not all women have a home with high windows, after all.”

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Corazona von Ascania​

Something in Lysander’s demeanor shifted, posture straightening as if a switch had suddenly been flipped. “A crop surplus isn’t just extra food. This is leverage for our home.” His eyes wandered beyond her to the fields past the oak.. the fields where they’d once played as children.

“Produce more than you need, and suddenly you’re not a dependent anymore.. you’re a provider. That would flip the entire conversation.” Well, not that their planet was one to beg for help, but it was still better to be capable of offering resources.

In his mind, he visualized shifting trade networks, merchants adjusting their calculations. Economics had always fascinated him, though he rarely got to indulge this interest, especially with his current role in the galaxy.

“The galaxy can’t ignore you when they need what you have. Who knows, maybe one day Ukatis will start influencing. With soil improvements, the agricultural modernization is basically security. Systemic durability. Plus, self sufficient agricultural worlds can resist outside pressure.” That last point mattered deeply to him.

The blonde breathed out thoughtfully. “When you reform education and marriage laws, you’re reshaping more than policies. You’re transforming cultural expectations. Once those take root, they’re nearly impossible to reverse. It sounds like you’re making Ukatis a power that demands.. recognition as well.”

Luciana shifted in his arms with another wiggle, and without breaking the current thread of thought, he adjusted her once more. But then the window comment landed. There was a flicker that passed through Lysander’s eyes, yellow as lightning behind clouds.

The death of King Horace would have pleased him regardless of his dealings with the Sith. Certain men earned their descent into the Nether. The thought flared hot.. then dissipated as he gazed down at the small life cradled against him. The yellow faded, expression gentling at the tiny breaths and heartbeat pressed to his chest.

“You’re right,” he murmured. “And not all women have a younger brother who never forgets.” His lips curved upward. “You’ve done well, Cora..”

He cocked his head slightly. “I’ve also heard rumors about refugee movements across the Mid Rim. Some.. analysts are calling it a shift in displacement patterns." From the Tapani Sector, to be specific. "And Ukatis is being.. utilized.” A few seconds passed so that the implication could settle. “Rebuilding worlds have vulnerabilities that aren’t always immediately apparent. Infrastructure often becomes strained. Community bonds quickly fray. What starts as humanitarian aid will only transform into burden. Or worse.. entitlement."

"It would be well worth the consideration of restricting immigration. Or.. and forgive my bluntness, shutting them out entirely? I'd hate to think Republic bureaucrats are dictating which problems Ukatis must shoulder. They're not offering charity; they're dumping their troubles on our doorstep while polishing their humanitarian credentials in the process."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Produce more than you need, and suddenly….

The first few sentences nearly slipped past her when Lysander’s tone shifted into something less casual, more focused. From her little brother still making his way through the galaxy, to that of a politician with a keen eye for economics.

Gradually, her expression altered from quiet surprise to something a little more fond. Proud. Admiration, even. It lived in the subtle upturn of her lips and in the sparkle of her eyes.

“Feeding the population from our own land was my first priority. Relying on the galaxy for something so basic isn’t the most stable position to be in. That being said,” her lips quirked with a little good humor, but her eyes were looking past him, gazing at some distant future. “I doubt we’ll become an agricultural powerhouse within my lifetime. Still, far stranger things have happened.”

Systemic durability. Cora hadn’t heard that particular phrase before. She liked it.

“Getting things to take root seems like the hardest part,” she admitted. It wasn’t a phrased as a lament, but more as a challenge she'd face with zeal. “Convincing a round table of stuffy old men to allow their daughters higher education is going about as well as you can imagine. But we'll find a way."

She’d managed to convince them - the King, at least - of the benefits in establishing a minimum age for marriage. Some of the traditionalists still wouldn’t meet her gaze with anything but distaste.

The Force shifted, something molten threading through the space they shared. Luciana wriggled, and the flare of gold that edged green irises conjured a lump in Cora’s throat. Her fingers twitched at her sides, instincts firing sudden and sharp to snatch the child from his arms.

But it was gone as quickly as it had come. Lucy cooed, grounding her Uncle’s anger.

A brother who never forgets.

Before she could dig into that - verbally, or through quiet thought - Lysander raised his concerns with Ukatis hosting offworld refugees. Cora listened, head canting to the side as she chewed the corner of her lip in reflection.

“I don’t think your concerns are unfounded. Managing refugees can be a messy business - you have to account for space, housing, food, plumbing, medical care, sanitation, and dozens of other factors," she listed. "There’s a lot that can go wrong, even in the best of circumstances.”

Cora inhaled slowly, letting the crisp air bathe her lungs. “Part of my conditions for agreeing to host refugees is that the Republic supply what is needed to care for them; we supply the land for them to do so.

“It may become a burden, or it may not - but I’d caution us from absolutes. Let the bureaucrats pat themselves on the back. But the one thing that I won’t allow is for Ukatis to shut out the galaxy again; isolationism has its benefits, but it’s one of the reasons Ukatis took so long to begin modernizing, among contributing to the reasons our people starved.”

Cora reached out, tracing the spine of an oak leaf with gentle fingers.

“As far as the Republic goes, we wouldn’t have been able to jump-start the agriculture program without them. So they get our space for refugees, and we make use of their resources to enhance our crop yields.”

As her hand fell back to her side, so too did her gaze shift to Lysander like the glare of a floodlight. Open, discerning, and unavoidable.

“If you’re that concerned, perhaps you can do something to ease the burden. I’ve heard rumors that you’ve gained traction in the Coveneant. Political power. You can use that to see that the Covenant stops uprooting people from their homes.”

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Corazona von Ascania​

The emerald of his gaze sharpened as the analytical part of his mind awakened, the itch he was always eager to scratch. It was welcome, far better than dwelling on their differences.. which surfaced every time they met for far too long now. Lysander tilted his head slightly, adopting a pose that suggested calculation.

Perhaps the other blonde harbored a spark of ambition too.. a rare thing among those so devoted to the Light.

Another thought followed. He wished he could guide her on the endeavors here, but that door was forfeited long ago. Well, maybe not entirely. Plenty of pompous old men could use a dagger in the heart.

“Feeding your own people first is the foundation of sovereignty,” he offered, ever the little brother trying to elevate his sister.

“A burden, mayhaps, but also the first step toward leverage. Once you prove the model works, those old fools will have no choice but to adapt or be left behind.” Those words bordered on the Covenant’s doctrine. “Tradition only survives when it’s serves an actual purpose. You’re making theirs.. obsolete."

“Maybe you act in good faith. But I'm sure the Republic does not. Refugees are just political pawns. Nothing more. They’ll pour resources into your agriculture now because it’s convenient. But the moment their attention gets pulled elsewhere to something more important, the burden falls to you alone.”

Some called it cooperation. Others called it jurisdiction. “Resources aren’t charity, Cora. The Republic didn’t invest out of altruism; they invested because it gives them a foothold here. Today it’s fertilizer and irrigation systems. Tomorrow it’s probably ‘recommendations’ on governance. Aid always has strings attached. It’s just the down payment on influence.”

“And it’s not just taking people in. It’s absorbing their expectations.. their customs, their sense of how a world should function. You let enough of that take root, and suddenly Ukatis will be negotiating their own identity with people who don’t understand the cost of anything being built. That’s how a planet wakes up one day and finds itself mirroring someone else's image."

Despite his disagreement, the calm never waned. Discipline in motion, ice in his veins; not the theatrical fire everyone imagined when they whispered the word Sith.

A small shift in both arms drew his attention downward. Lucy had gone very still. Her tiny brows knitted together as she stared up at him. She disarmed him more than any adult ever could. Again..

The young Sith's jaw flexed once, before lifting his chin back to Cora.

“You heard correct. I’m the Prince of the Core.”

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Even as the tone of the conversation shifted, Luciana had been intently gumming on the colorful plastoid toy. During the discussion over how Ukatis fit into the Republic’s refugee program, as well as the latter’s intentions for their influence on the little agriworld, the toy slipped from tiny, uncoordinated fingers.

“Ah!” she went in frustration. Lysander would feel a little grunt against his shoulder.

Cora kept her gaze fixed on her brother as he spoke, even as she knelt to retrieve the brightly colored ring. By the time she’d finished cleaning it with the hem of her dress, Lucy had fisted her little hands back into Lysander’s hair.

She stared up at him, unabashed, unafraid, and without judgement. Or perhaps she was judging him - just not on the same metrics the rest of the galaxy seemed to use.

Cora hummed once.

“I don’t like,” she waved a hand up and down, vaguely indicating his person. “This. You talk to me like those old, greying men who are always so certain that they are right. Not like my brother.”

Ice in his veins, steel in his voice. Cora didn’t think that she’d melt that ice or warp that steel - her tone was a little more musical than it was harsh. A sibling prodding at her brother, challenging the man he'd become just as much as the boy still lingering in those eyes.

“Here,” she said. A dark green ribbon, matte rather than satin, was produced from the pocket of her skirt. Several shades deeper than his eyes, but it had the same electric olive undertones.

Cora stepped behind her brother and began to work clutched blonde strands from little fingers.

“What other alternative was there for a poor, backwater agriworld on the edge of the Blackwall?” Cora murmured, half distracted by her task. “Ukatis cannot yet defend itself, so when the Alliance began to crumble from the inside out, we sought the protection of the Republic.”

Once her brother’s hair was freed from the iron grip of a tiny tyrant, Cora gathered golden strands behind his shoulders. Slow, gentle, and methodical.

“As far as the Ukatian identity goes, I think we can do better than what we already are: an antiquated agricultural colony known for its poor quality of life, and the oppression of both commonfolk and women.”

That wasn’t all that Ukatis was, and both siblings knew that. But, it was how Ukatis was viewed. That was important.

Lysander’s concern lay in that he didn’t want to see their home become a puppet state. Cora ruminated on that as the gentle rasp of the ribbon wove around his hair. Several inches from the nape of his neck, she’d pulled it back and out of Lucy’s immediate range.

“I was never under the impression that what they offered was charity. But Ukatis cannot survive on its own - that much, our histories have proven. If we don’t tear each other apart first, someone else will. Others have tried."

She frowned, recalling first the Mandalorian invasion, then the Sith’s razing of the capital. The only reason that Ukatis hadn’t been leveled was because of foreign - Alliance - intervention.

The ribbon had worked about an inch down gathered golden locks, and now it began to work its way back up. Overlapping on itself, creating a sturdy yet flexible tie.

“Perhaps Ukatis could use a little outside influence,” she mused. “Not too much, I agree. It’s harder to maintain a steady trickle than it is a flood. But the Republic oversees hundreds of member worlds - I doubt that they would choose to spend precious time focusing on Ukatis. And if they do? I have friends in the assembly who can help me advocate for what Ukatis needs.”

The Prince of the Core landed heavily in her gut, sinking like a stone. Cora knew that he wouldn’t remain all blonde curls and cherubic cheeks forever, but she did not foresee this.

“Their fertilizer and irrigation systems are welcome.” The edge of the ribbon tucked itself into the tie. “I will ensure that the King considers any legislative recommendations with scrutiny.”

Cora would be there, behind Fabian. Reading over his shoulder. Guiding his hand, if needed.

For now, she sighed, tilted forward, and rested her forehead against the upper curve of Lysander’s back.

“You have power, then. What will you use it for?”

Lysander von Ascania