UKATIS
HOUSE ASCANIA ESTATE
LIFE DAY BALL
"Isn't Prince Horace ever so handsome?"
Cora glanced to the girl clinging at the edge of her arm, Fantine, and then to the man she'd been eyeing across the ballroom floor. Tall and strongly built, Prince Horace had captured many young hearts with his dashing looks and charming smile.
Only fourteen, Fantine von Ascania sighed as she pined innocently after one of the planet's most eligible bachelors. Cora couldn't help but view the Ukatian royal with a discerning gaze, something she wouldn't have dared to do six months ago. It was not courtly for a young lady to stare at a man so openly; cursory, shy glances were the proper way to show interest.
Cora was not interested in him for her sake. He was handsome, she would admit as much, but the rumors that had filtered to her were troubling. After that stately veneer fell away, Horace had a violent temper and a bawdy streak. Despite being far above the Ascania family in status, the Prince was not good enough for Cora's little sister.
She was only fourteen, anyway. Fantine had plenty of time to find a suitable match, preferably on her own and at an appropriate age. Still, Cora took a moment to indulge her sister's girlish interest.
"Of course he is." She agreed, offering Fantine a vaguely encouraging smile. The girls had been linked at the arm as they perused the edge of the ballroom floor, ensuring that their guests were comfortable and that everything was in order. Life Day on Ukatis was an extravagant affair; each year, a ball was hosted by one of the planet's aristocratic families. This year, that task was entrusted to House Ascania.
"Have you thought about where you'd like to go to school? I have a friend who attended the University of Rudrig."
Cora had returned to her homeworld for the first time since joining the New Jedi Order. Leaving the only home she'd ever known had been a massive shift for her, and she'd missed her seven younger siblings dearly. Arriving a week before the event to assist with preparations, she regretfully had little time to interact with them.
Hopefully, she could remedy that before returning to Coruscant.
"If you would do me the honor, Miss Ascania."
A deep timbre broke Cora from the conversation with Fantine, blue eyes leading her to the owner of the voice who'd addressed her. Her gaze rested on the form of Horace standing in front of her. Back straight, bowed elegantly at the waist, the Prince certainly cut a dignified figure in public. Her noble breeding was the only thing that kept Cora from balking in surprise upon realizing that he was offering his hand, palm up, to her.
From the corner of her eye, she could see Fantine waffle between jealousy and excitement. Ultimately, the younger girl had sequeezed her older sister's arm in urging.
Internally, Cora signed in resignation. Guests were staring, she could feel their eyes piercing from all angles in curiosity. She pinned a gracious smile to her face and slipped her hand delicately into his own, tilting her head meekly.
"I would be humbly honored, Your Highness."
The silent attention they received hadn't let up as Prince Horace lead her around the ballroom. Each time they turned, Cora could feel a new set of eyes boring into the back of her skull. Inhaling slowly, she concentrated on the swell of emotions that painted the picture of the ballroom, each feeling a thread that wove into the tapestry of the night.
Jealousy. Admiration. Indifference. Concern. Elation.
Not all were strictly related to the Prince and his choice of dance partner.
"Your hands are so...calloused."
Horace had unwound his grip from Cora's hand, rubbing a thumb along the thickened flesh at her fingers with curiosity. He didn't sound upset or disgusted, but surprised.
Cora laughed softly, politely, practiced. A faint shade of pink dusted her cheeks. "Training for hours on end with a lightsaber will do that, Sir."
"Fascinating."
His hand reclaimed its grip, clasping tightly to hers. The fingers resting at the side of her waist dug tightly into the fabric of her dress. Cora's genteel gaze narrowed a hair.
As they swept past a group of young noble women, Cora felt a particularly displeased presence brush against her mind. One of the women, a tall blonde with penetrating green eyes smiled wickedly from behind the fan she'd held against the lower half of her face.
A sudden unseen pressure was felt at Cora's back, sharp enough to startle her and send her stumbling into Horace. In turn, he lost his footing and went careening back into a table of champagne glasses and hors d'ouevres.
The crash of broken dinnerware rose over the refined melody of a live string quartet, drawing every eye to them.
"B-but he wasn't injured, father-"
Viscount Ascania raised his cane and sent it thundering to the floor. The booming echo silenced Cora as she pleaded with her father, fist clenched tightly to her chest and eyes brimming with tears. So often she could hold herself together during court, but the fear and respect she held for her father had caused her to become completely undone in the moment.
Head reflexively bowed, Cora flinched as the tapping of the cane signaled her father's approach. He was an imposing man, strongly and severely built, blessed with a harsh face. A power struggle decades ago against the previous monarch had casused him injury, enough to require the aid of a cane now and then. Blonde hair was beginning to lighten with age, bearing a handful of distinguished grey streaks. Piercing blue eyes stared down at Cora callously. Ironically, the daughter cowering before him was the one of his eight children who'd inherited most of his coloration. All pale skin, blonde hair and blue eyes, Cora had her mother's smaller build, but not her tanned skin and dark, curly hair.
Given the juxtaposition of their parents, the Ascania children were a spectrum of mixed features.
"Your behavior tonight was unacceptable, Corazona." His voice rolled like thunder, steady and controlled but his stern ire could be felt all the same. "And by the Gods, do not stutter. How many times must I tell you to rid yourself of such an unladylike habit?"
The Viscount sighed gruffly. He looked to his firstborn, her dress stained pale where the champagne had soaked in.
"Prince Horace may be uninjured, but your carelessness has damaged House Ascania's reputation. After the trouble I went through to secure the royal family's presence, I fear that your mishap will put our relationship with the crown in jeopardy."
Cora winced. Disappointment radiated from her father, and she strove to try and make things right. What would a real Jedi do? Inhaling deeply, she scraped together her courage and tentatively lifted her head.
"Father," She began, struggling to keep her voice even.
Don't stumble. Don't stutter. Don't let him see how scared you are.
"I am sure that we can fi-"
WHACK
Cora lurched forward suddenly, a strained gasp ripping from her throat when her father's cane lashed across her back. Always across her back, where the bruises wouldn't be so obvious. Grimacing, she remained still while gathering her breath, one hand braced on the arm of a nearby chair, the other wrapped around her torso. Pain surged across her back, following the diagonal pattern where his cane had struck.
She chanced a glance upwards, finding only her father's frigid gaze staring down at her. Cora swallowed thickly around the lump in her throat.
"If you'd only listen-"
WHACK
WHACK
WHACK
WHACK
WHACK
Crumpled to the floor, Cora heaved for breath beneath the brutal pain blooming along her back. A fist curled and uncurled, scrabbling for purchase against the floor of her father's study. She hadn't cried out more than a pained yelp, muffled with her other hand that had clasped acrossed her lips. Tears dripped freely down her face now, but she dared not let out a sob or a wail.
Nor did she speak, and soon the only sound in the tense air of the study was her coughing specks of crimson onto the floor.
The Viscount stared down at the piteous form of his child. He derived no joy from disciplining Corazona, but it needed to be done.
He lifted his cane, one greying brow arched as the only visible sign of emotion when he spied a fracture in the wood.
"I see that the Jedi have yet to teach you proper discipline. How disappointing."
He sighed, a guttural sound of displeasure as the edge of his cane came to against the floor.
"Someday, Corazona, you will learn proper respect for our family. Endeavor that it comes sooner rather than later."
