Private Captive Honour

[Velda Nar-Donna]

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: No weapons needed
TAG: Brandyn Sal-Soren f.y.i Teyla Ee'everwest Cybelle Elyance

Her walk was confident, and regal, as she stepped past the archway and inside. The aura of importance and status that was cast around her, contrasted drastically with the air of this place, a place that was a monument of compassion, and protection of the weak. At least, that was what they had projected across the galactic expanse.

To Velda, it was an insane place, with insane moves. They strived for peace with acts of war. And whenever there was a lull in the combat, the peace that they cherished always seemed fleeting, and unreachable.

And unlike all the Knights and Jedi masters, that the brunette was casually strolling past. She had no faith in Ashla to distract her. And unlike those around her as she walked through the halls. She knew why their dreams for peace would always be shattered. Because...

Peace is a lie…​

She entered the turbolift and the lift took her to the prison section of the building. Once she stepped out she came up to the designated she came across the designated room she requested that he be moved to.

She entered, and she closed the distance to the table where he was sitting.

It was Brandyn Sal-Soren, a boy she had not seen since Corellia. And since that time he had been thrown in prison, and put in here…like an animal.

And if you kill a man...you're a murderer…
And if you kill many...you're a conqueror…
And if you kill them all...you're a God...​

Her exotic brown eyes studied him. As she remembered the last conversation, she remembered his threats, she remembered the slap she gave him. And it all seemed like it was yesterday.

"I trust these accommodations are a little more agreeable." She said that, coolly taking her seat across from him, but clearly, there was a sinister edge to the air, she did have her Force Cloak up even in this room, so her presence in The Force was still an enigma.

"After all, cells and Force fields are beneath our stations of regality…" She let those words sink in as he held her utmost curiosity. "So why are you here? Why did you murder him?"

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Why was he here? He barely remembered the trip to this room, it had all happened so quickly. One moment he was resting in h is cell, and the next moment it seemed…he was here. The guards were nothing if not efficient.

Why he was here was soon revealed as Velda Nar-Donna walked into the room.

He felt his back straighten, and his forehead wrinkle. There was something illusive about Velda that had set him on edge since he had confronted her on Corellia. At the very least, she was trying to drive a wedge between he and Cybelle. To what end, he did not know. Surely someone as dignified as herself would not be…jealous?

“I do not have to answer your questions, Velda.”

He looked about for a guard to request he be taken back to his cell.

”Guard…guard?”

His stomach flipped when he realised no one was there.

“How…does one have so much sway…as to get a prisoner in a meeting room…with no guard presence?”

His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.

”Who…or…what are you really….Velda?”

Velda Nar-Donna

 

[Velda Nar-Donna]

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: No weapons needed
TAG: Brandyn Sal-Soren f.y.i Cybelle Elyance Teyla Ee'everwest

Well, at the very least, he still had a fire in him. Defiance clung to Brandyn like a second skin, and being in this place did not bleed his resistance with that grim prison cell.

It seemed, not completely, anyway. Being confined within four walls hadn't gifted him any insight into his predicament. His resistance was still intact, stubborn as ever.

Brandyn had the freedom to refuse her questions, naturally. But Velda had no obligation to answer any of his, should she choose not to. Here, defiance didn't carry the same social weight for either of them. And as for his questions? She certainly did not fear those.

His defiance, though, sparked a question in her mind. Brandyn seemed to be still upset over their argument on Corellia, over Cybelle. It was a quarrel he had ignited, built on a narrative in his head that Velda aimed to destroy them.

Which wasn't true, necessarily. Velda had merely offered alternatives to his dreams. She hadn't named Cybelle because she hadn't had the chance to suggest other candidates before she found herself in an unwanted argument. His mind had been made up then. And If anyone had the right to be upset over that, it was Velda.

During their quarrel, Velda had questioned Cybelle to him. He hadn't liked that. And ironically, now he posed the same question to Velda: "Who is she?"

But the brunette wondered if Cybelle was even still in his life. Brandyn was a murderer, after all, which gave Cybelle ample reason to leave, had she chosen to. She wasn't obligated to stay. And Yet, Brandyn's defiance hinted otherwise.

So Velda decided to find out.

She leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table, her chin cradled in her palm. Her wide, exotic brown eyes locked onto him with an intense curiosity, shutting out everything else. Subtly, she caught the echoes of his time here, the whispers of various visitors, and then, the distinct voice from Cybelle herself...

"I love you and I'm not going anywhere." The words sung from Cybelle in the past, echoed forward into the present, unheard by anyone but Velda. Her gaze, toward Brandyn, intense yet soft, with a haunting exotic allure that held mysteries untold, gradually danced into a smirk of quiet amusement.

Perhaps...just Perhaps...Cybelle would regret that declaration in the future. Or maybe she'd stay the course, and they'd have to pry Brandyn from her cold, dead hands.

...If that was her destiny.

But, thankfully for Cybelle, it was the decision Velda had wanted her to make.

"It's a fair question…" Velda said, considering Brandyn's words. "Have you asked that of Cybelle yet?" She watched him closely. "Has she asked that of you?"

She addressed the absence of the guards. "As for the absence of the guard, there's a long answer and a short answer."

"The long answer is that... being of noble blood, I have considerable social sway in the Core. Especially here on Coruscant. And I assumed you'd appreciate a more private and candid conversation, considering how spirited and lively our last was."

Then she gave him the short answer, beaming a look of dismissal and disgust. "The short and succinct answer is... I don't need any guards."

Then she reclined gracefully into her seat, her eyes shimmering with a hint of amusement. "I could, of course, reveal my identity to you. Yet, your perspective is so hopelessly clouded by the rose-tinted ideals of the Jedi Order that has imprisoned you, so narrowly myopic, that such a revelation would be rather meaningless without the proper context, wouldn't it?"

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

“Leave Cybelle out of this.” Brandyn visibly tensed. More so than just with her mere presence. Why Velda kept up with this line of inquiry was beyond Brandyn. She insisted that Cybelle was not what she seemed.

But she wasn’t. Something had change…on Exegol.

He looked away. Cybelle looked the same, felt the same. Everything about was the same, expect one little fleck of change in her eyes. It was more a shadow’s shadow behind her gaze. He didn’t see it unless he looked for a long time. It could just be her grief over his actions.

Why was he in prison? Brandyn felt like this was wrong.

“The cheek still stings a bit,” Brandyn said, with a hint of humour as he was brought back into her conversation.

His hands balled into fists as she talked. Her words were those of the tempter’s snare. Each word dropped with a forbidden sweetness. Velda had always been the alluring type, but there was something more. She got into his head somehow.

”So there is more to you then. You are not simply a rich Corellian. At least that much is confirmed. With your disdain of the Jedi. It is almost as if you were…the opposite.”

Brandyn started to feel like the most blind fool ever.

Velda Nar-Donna

 

[Velda Nar-Donna]

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: No weapons needed
TAG: Brandyn Sal-Soren f.y.i Cybelle Elyance Teyla Ee'everwest

She had indeed considered the idea of leaving Cybelle out of this—more than anything, she wanted to.

Her voice, a delicate thread of introspection, drifted softly through the stillness between them.

"That's an enticing and lovely suggestion, to push her out of the way, and to have it be just about us. It's what we deserve after all."

She looked at him, her gaze soft and contemplative, as if she were lost in the labyrinth of her own thoughts. "But, I'm afraid you will just have to indulge my reflections on her if you are to understand the full truth."

She gathered her thoughts with care, aware that unveiling such a personal secret was unprecedented. Velda, ever a woman of mystery, pondered silently whether Brandyn would accept this revelation. But the time had come.

Taking a deep breath, she began.

"Consider, if you will...The Battle of Exegol. In the aftermath of that cataclysm, I was left with more questions than answers. And as I departed that ship, which was careening into the heart of a dying planet—in which the Jedi murdered—my eyes saw her, at a distance."

The scene had initially confounded her.

"I had no time to reflect on it then, but I had a clear sense of what had transpired. And, to say the least, I was far from pleased."

She reflected on the period that followed.

"I'm not one to entertain loose ends. And considering the weight of the situation I decided to uncover what happened to her."

She allowed the weight of her words to settle in the silence before continuing.

"So...in the week following the aftermath of the battle. I reached out... beyond the ethereal veil of time and space itself. And I astral projected my spirit back in time, traversing to that storage room on that freighter."

"And I witnessed it—every vexatious moment—with my own eyes. I saw her fall, struck down by a besotted coward."

She recounted the events that she had immediately prior with that same Sith...with stark precision.

"I warned my opponent when I contested him moments earlier, about the weakness and ill-fated promise of mercy and charity. Such wisdom fell on the deaf ears of a guilt-ridden, smitten pup. And I know precisely how he managed to bring her back to life as well."

She took in his observation of her being the opposite of the Jedi. "You can label us that if you wish, of course, but that is a superficial view of a deeper truth. We have more in common than you might realize. The Jedi themselves crave power as an example. The real difference lies not in the desire but in the approach to attaining it."

Then she considered other profound truths.

"We are not bound by destiny, nor are we shackled by any transient prophecy. We become what we choose to be. Prophets may proclaim their visions, but time marches on, indifferent to their predictions, only to find itself validated eventually, perhaps repeatedly. Our destinies are ours to shape, and not for The Force to dictate, despite its own designs."

She reflected on everything that had transpired between them since their reunion on Corellia.

"I have been leaving you with hints, clues, visions. Not to corrupt you, because adoption of the dark is not a corruption, it is a choice. But to encourage you to find the truth and the answers for yourself."

And she retouched upon his inquiry. Of "Who is she?"

"So, who am I?" She fell silent as she considered the question.

"Nu sua zo jen' zeon iv tave tsis..." The language she spoke was vastly ancient and obscure.

"That is ur-Kittât, an ancient tongue used by the Dark Jedi exiles after they settled on Korriban and Ziost a long, long time ago. It is still used by a few, though it is quite rare."

She allowed the gravity of her words to settle.

"And what I said was..."

She paused, only to give the following words she spoke with a smoky yet darkly elegant finality.

"I am a Dark Lady of The Sith..."

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

It did not take Brandyn long to put the pieces together. Or perhaps it had taken him too long. Answers would vary based on the appreciation for his blindness to a friend’s betrayal. He held his hands over his face and run them through his hair.

”You were at Exegol…”

His mind raced, scenes and moments replaying. Unwieldy facts and information suddenly slid into place, and the past many months began to make more sense.

”You did something to me…at Exegol…”

The visions. The dreams. The nightmares of him and a dark, sinister woman ruling with an iron fist.

“It was you…”

His gut hollowed as he realised the dream that locked him in his state of sleep after he confronted his father. The dream that had kept him longer than the sedative he had been injected with would have normally kept him under. It was her that took his attention away. That redirected Briana’s attention away from finding their mother.

”You did all of this…”

His chest tightened. His focus narrowed. All else in the universe dropped aside and Velda had his complete and undivided focus. Brandyn knew what she was before she said the words, but as she said them, his lip curled up in spite of himself. He was visibly shaking.

In one swift action, Brandyn stood and his hand grabbed Velda by the throat. He twisted and drove her back against the table that had been between them. Hints of red and orange rippled at the edge of his pupils.

”I could have saved them. Briana could have saved them. There were others…that could have saved them…but you had to play your games,” he spat.

Leaning closer he sneered, his intent to add to his list of murders more than evident.

”I think the universe could do…with one…less…Sith.”

Velda Nar-Donna

 

[Velda Nar-Donna]

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: No weapons needed
TAG: Brandyn Sal-Soren f.y.i Cybelle Elyance Teyla Ee'everwest

Velda's laughter filled the meeting room, a sound that echoed off the cold, unforgiving walls like the chime of some macabre bell. It was a soft, melodious thing—almost tender in its cruelty. Her dark eyes glinted with a knowing light as she observed the storm brewing within Brandyn, each of his realizations like a stone sinking into the abyss of his despair.

"You're just now understanding?" she murmured, her voice lilting with mockery, tinged with a sinister warmth that belied the poison in her words. "I thought you sharper than that, Brandyn. How disappointing."

His accusations, his pain, all amused her in a way that should have been infuriating, but instead, it was like watching a child realize that the shadows in their room had teeth.

And then it happened. His hand shot out, strong and with fury, wrapping around her throat. He twisted her body around and then she felt the sting on her back as she was slammed against the table. She exhaled softly, almost a sigh, as if the action had only confirmed what she already knew.

There was a primal thrill in the pressure of his hand around her throat, an exhilarating mixture of desire. Her brown eyes, wide and gleaming with an unspoken understanding, met his through the wild tangle of her tousled brunette hair framing her exotic face like a chaotic halo.

In the depths of his gaze, she glimpsed the flicker of something elemental—a flicker of red and orange, like embers at the edge of a dying fire, a hint of something more sinister lurking within the depths of his pupils.

"Do it." Her voice was a velvet whisper, the smirk playing at the corners of her lips. His fingers coiled around her throat, and she felt the tension as much from his fingers as from the air. "If you think you can. But how would that serve you?" Her words, sharpened by scorn, cut through the fragile air. "An attempted murder of nobility would only ensure your demise. You would never escape this place. You'll bend the knee and serve your time, won't you? So much of yourself—mind, body, and soul—poured into a broken system. But that's nothing new for you, is it, Brandyn? You've been bending the knee since you took up the Jedi mantle, haven't you?"

She let her words hang, like a noose tightening around his thoughts, before continuing, her tone edged with a cruel certainty. "If you choose this path, know this: My flame will rise again with the dawn. I will not die here. And you cannot kill your darkness, because it already festers within you."

Her hand, slow and deliberate, reached up to rest on his, the gesture intimate in its precision, as if she held the very threads of his fate in her grasp. Her fingers traced the back of his hand, a taunt, a dare, the ghost of a promise unspoken. "Or…" she purred, "you can surrender to your other desires and take what you truly want."

The power in the room shifted, gravity itself seemed to bend around her. She had complete control, the threads of the moment wound tight in her hands, and all she wanted was to see what he would do with the trap she had so elegantly set.