Private Contradictions

[Corazona von Ascania]

Horace's death couldn't have come at a more embarrassing timing.

In the aftermath of the nexus purification, some of the Jedi had lingered on Ukatis. The townspeople were quick to express their gratitude, holding a meager feast with what they could for those who'd saved them from the dark creatures of the forest.

They'd returned to the capital to depart to Coruscant when Cora had pushed her husband out a third story window.

The Princess would spend several days in a cell beneath the palace until the Grand Viziers—and, as it would happen, a small group of Jedi and a Senator—would figure out what to do with her.

For now, she waited. The dungeon was cold and damp, but at least she hadn't been shackled or further abused aside from the bruising on her face and neck incurred by her spat with Horace. Cora closed her eyes and tried to meditate, but she could only see the visceral fear on her husband's face as he fell.

It was simultaneously a comforting and horrifying thought.

Thelma Goth

 

[Thelma Goth]

Thelma had to make an appointment to see Cora. Her request was granted easily enough, though she had to give up her weapons and submit to Force nullification. Security had even insisted on taking her hatpin, and they eyed the bundle she had brought in with suspicion before reluctantly handing it back to her.

She was finally allowed to enter just as another visitor was leaving. A richly-dressed teenage girl was on her way out, looking rather annoyed. Catching sight of the newcomer, her eyes widened. “Ah, your outfit—it’s fantastic!” she exclaimed.

Well, that was quite the thing to say to a stranger you met in a dungeon, but at least she was friendly. Thelma blinked before smiling and mumbling a polite “Thank you. Yours is very pretty as well.”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Delighted, the girl gave a little twirl, causing her voluminous skirts to flare out. “Are you here to visit the princess?”

“Yes.” There was no one else imprisoned here, was there?

“I’ve never seen you before. What’s your name?”

Perhaps it wasn’t so strange that people would take notice of someone visiting a princess, let alone one due to be executed soon, but Thelma was caught off guard by her interest. “Thelma,” she replied, clasping the small bundle she carried to her breast.

“Hm. I am Lady Giselle Dune, her cousin. What's your relation to Princess Corazona?”

“I…” Thelma hesitated. “I made her wedding dress.”

"Is that all?"

"I knew her before she was married. When she was with the Jedi."

“Ah, that explains it.” Giselle nodded. “Well, you do fantastic work. Perhaps I could have my wedding gown commissioned by you?”

Thelma swallowed. “Perhaps. Are you getting married soon?”

“I certainly hope not." Giselle checked her chrono. "I better get going now. Nice to meet you, Thelma!” Giselle disappeared around the corner with a swish of petticoats.

Thelma slowly started moving again, walking toward the door to the princess’ cell. She had no idea what to say to Cora, and now she was beginning to wonder whether she should have come at all. But she wanted answers to the questions that had plagued her ever since Cora left the Order, and now it seemed she had a limited amount of time to get them. The date of the Princess of Ukatis' execution grew ever closer.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

For a woman on death row, Cora was being treated rather well. By Ukatian standards, at least. She was given a cot to sleep on and kept fed, isolated from the general prison population. Her meals were spartan and bland, but the food she was served was lightyears better than the gruel other prisoners were forced to choke down.

What was truly unfortunate, she had mused grimly, was that she hadn't been afforded to change. Still in the same dress she'd been wearing when Horace fell to his death, Cora had been unable to brush her hair or touch up her makeup.

Still, the Princess did her best to appear composed and courtly when visitors came. Some were there to berate her, while others expressed their condolences.

Her own father had yet to speak to her.

Giselle had barely left when soft footfalls came padding down the hall. Arranging herself neatly on the cot with her feet tucked beneath her and skirts fanning out around her waist, Cora waited with her back straight and hands clasped delicately in her lap.

"Thelma?" Her face pulled back in mild surprise, but not displeasure. She hadn't seen the girl since leaving the Order, but she was made aware that the seamstress had been present during their mission to purify the nexus in Faron territory.

"Thank you for coming to see me. I'm sorry that we couldn't meet under better circumstances."

There was a touch of red to her pale features; embarrassment.

Thelma Goth

 

[Thelma Goth]

In place of a princess, Thelma found only a bruised girl in dirty, wrinkled clothes sitting behind bars. Cora’s downfall had been dramatic; she had gone from the future queen of an entire planet to a murderess condemned to death without a trial. While her makeup may have been smudged and runny, she at least retained the dignified poise which gave away that she was a noble, born and bred. She didn't seem like someone guilty of mariticide.

She seemed surprised to see Thelma. After all, they hadn’t really known each other all that well, though Thelma had longed to change that fact. While both were training with the Jedi, she had hoped to find a kindred spirit in the other girl. They were both strangers in a strange land, prim and proper young women who dressed and acted and saw the world very differently from their peers. But the burden of Cora’s responsibilities had called her away from the Order, back to her homeworld to be married. Thelma, in her loneliness on Coruscant, had naively thought this was for the best. So she sewed the future princess’ wedding gown as a farewell, infusing every stitch with good wishes, hopes and dreams.

Now, though?... Well, as previously stated, she had many questions. Thelma realized she had been standing there for several silent moments, lost in thought. Not wanting to be rude, she cleared her throat and said, “Hello Cora. I brought you these.”

She held out the bundle, which contained a pair of gloves and socks, both made from warm wool. Thelma had made them, of course.

“I came as soon as I heard about… what happened.” She hesitated, fidgeting with the sleeve of her coat, before softly asking, “...Did you really kill your husband?”

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Oh," There was genuine gratitude in her voice as Cora recieved and unwrapped the parcel. "Thank you, Thelma. You didn't have to go through such trouble for me, but I appreciate it so." A small, sad smile tilted her lips as she rubbed the fabric of a glove between two fingers. It was thick and soft, and would surely keep her insulated against her dank surroundings.

As she slipped the gloves on, Cora briefly eyed the twitch in Thelma's hands. It seemed that they shared the same nervous tic; a habit her father had attempted to dissuade her from.

With a quiet sigh, the condemned Princess sat back and lifted her gaze to her visitor.

"Yes, Thelma." She admitted it readily and without hesitation, but her tone was appropriately somber. Regret was distinctly absent, though. "I did kill Horace."

Thelma Goth

 

[Thelma Goth]

“Why?”

The question came immediately after Cora's answer. Thelma blushed. “I mean, if you’re willing to tell me…”

Cora had murdered a man. Her husband. She had committed a crime, which she had been condemned for. Thelma just wanted to understand. There was so much that had been kept from her by people who either thought her too innocent, or simply hadn't thought to tell her. It all seemed so strange and sad. Perhaps understanding would bring her no solace, but at least she could say she had tried.

“Was there no better way this could’ve ended?” she asked softly.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Why?

A question that Cora had asked herself many times over because it was the polite thing to do. Even still, she'd always known the answer.

Biting her lip, Cora let silence settle between them as she wracked her mind for an answer that was both honest and diplomatic. She liked Thelma, and didn't want the seamstress to think less of her.

"The act was not premeditated, Thelma. It happened during an argument. The window was open, and…"

Cora struggled with how to word her contradictory thoughts. She hated Horace, but he'd been her duty. Looking at it from the angle she'd been trained to, she had failed.

"There was no better way that this could have ended, because this situation was always damned from the beginning."

The Princess paused after realizing that a curse word had woven into her vocabulary. "Please excuse my language."

With a sigh, Cora removed the gifted gloves and laid them carefully atop the cot beside her.

"Our relationship had been fraught with hardship. Something had to give, and I was not strong enough to withstand what was demanded of me."

Thelma Goth

 

[Thelma Goth]

Cora seemed a little reluctant to answer at first. When she began to speak, Thelma stayed quiet, waiting to hear her out. She expected nothing and judged no one. But as the princess stopped and started, correcting herself and using words that were obviously chosen with care before they were uttered, the little seamstress’ brow furrowed and her eyes grew sad.

“I don’t think you’re being honest,” she said softly. “I wish you would be. I think—It would be better if you were honest, Cora.” As it stood, her vagueness only made it seem like she was hiding something. Maybe she needed to believe in the falsehood, even though she knew deep down that it wasn't true.

She had already removed the gloves Thelma had given her. Would she also take off the cloak of lies and deceit?

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

When Thelma asked for honesty, Cora wavered. For a moment, she considered doubling down and insisting that she was telling the truth, because being honest would be painful. Maybe that pain wouldn’t matter as much if Cora was not around long enough to feel it in earnest.

She appraised Thelma for a few quiet moments, drinking in the melancholy on her delicate features, the sincerity in her eyes.

Better for who? She wanted to ask, lips parting to speak before closing again. Silence stretched between them before she spoke.

"He has done…unspeakably cruel things to me. I do not know if I deserved them, but I do know that they were cruel."

Even mumbled words carried well in the relative quiet of the dungeon.

"I…became undone when the threatened my younger sister."

Thelma Goth

 

[Thelma Goth]

So the rumors of abuse were true. Thelma said nothing, letting Cora continue to speak. She was just starting to open up and let it out; who was she to stop her?

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora had expected a grimace, a gasp, perhaps words of admonishment. But Thelma did none of those things, and the silence was uncomfortable. She was desperate to fill it, so she continued.

"Perhaps I could stand what he's done to me, but I couldn't allow him to harm my family. He was going to take Fantine as a concubine and I…"

Swallowing thickly, Cora attempted to push down the swell of emotions that threatened to overtake her. "She's a child." Came her harsh, crackling whisper. "I had to protect her."

A few quiet moments passed, the only sound between them the deep, heavy breaths Cora took in an attempt to steady herself.

"Perhaps I was not a good wife to Horace. I disobeyed his orders, and he punished me as a result. As is his right as my husband. Still, I did not learn even after he burned my flesh…" Cora trailed off in a murmur before shaking her head. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to Thelma, meeting her eyes for the first time.

"I pushed him from an open window. He fell four stories into the courtyard below. His neck was broken in several places, and his skull cracked. And I…took no pleasure in what happened, but I do not think that I will live long enough for regret to catch me."

Thelma Goth

 

[Thelma Goth]

At last, a clear picture of what had happened began to manifest. Thelma stayed quiet until Cora finished her story, looking through the bars at the other girl. Her expression was grave, and had remained such throughout Cora's emotional upheaval, but there was a kindness and empathy in her gaze.

There was no point in chastising Cora for her actions; what was done was done. Nor could there be any benefit to attacking her perspective. Other Jedi had already done that, making their judgment of Ukatian culture, the von Ascania family, and the crown plain. Their contempt and anger had done nothing to make Cora's situation any easier.

And now it was too late to do anything, it seemed. Cora had killed her husband and had already accepted the blame and the punishment for it. By her own admission, it could not have ended any differently.

"Then you've given your life for your sister," Thelma said at last. It was a kinder assessment of her actions than the Princess probably expected, but the seamstress was incapable of judging anyone.

She had hoped that Cora, who always seemed so confident and self-assured (at least, compared to Thelma), would know what she was doing. But as Thelma peered into Cora's girlish, bruised face, she knew now that that wasn’t the case. If Thelma hadn't known all that she was getting into when she fell in love, there was no way Cora really knew what was coming when she married a man she didn't love. Let alone one who beat her and threatened to make a concubine of her sister.

"Do you regret anything else?" she asked.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Do I regret anything?

Cora took a long moment to mull on that. Her eyes dimmed with sadness, and she swept her gaze to the aging duracrete wall next to her before refusing on Thelma.

"I regret dragging Makko into this. It should've been a clean break, but I…I held on."

She smiled, sad and soft.

"And now I've done something that I am unable to take back. I cannot come to fully regret my actions; Horace would've been a poor ruler. He was not good for Ukatis."

Cora closed her eyes for a moment. She breathed in, slow and deep, the scent of mildew and grime. A ray scurried past the edge of her cell and she jolted in disgust.

"I suppose that this is as far as I can go, Thelma."

Thelma Goth

 

[Thelma Goth]

"He will never have a chance to prove himself," Thelma said softly. "Or to change and grow."

She didn't expect Cora to feel that way, nor did her mournful tone indicate she was trying to make the princess feel more shame or guilt. Thelma was simply the type of person who lamented any loss of life, no matter how vicious the person had been or even how they had personally wronged her or the people she cared about.

"I was told that you were condemned without a trial," Thelma said. "That seems irregular, even if your guilt is obvious. And you have many friends in high places. Perhaps this is not the farthest you will go, as you put it." Or maybe it was, and she was wrong to plant any seeds of hope in the Princess' heart.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

To prove himself?

He'd already proven himself to be nothing more than a spoilt, arrogant, and cruel man to Cora. Thelma's words weren't meant to inflame, but Cora reached out suddenly and grasped one of iron bars that separated them.

"You are correct; he will not have that chance. And that is a good thing for Ukatis."

The condemned Princess kept her tone steady, but practically spat the words from her lips like bitter tea. Perhaps her own personal feelings for Horace were clouding her judgement. Even if Cora recognized this, she could not acknowledge it.

Her hand fell away from the grate and she looked away, suddenly embarrassed. It was this exact type of behavior that got her here in the first place.

"You…you think so?" She sounded unsure.

Thelma Goth

 

[Thelma Goth]

As Cora crossed her cell to grab the bars, Thelma didn't move away even as the Princess nearly spat her words in her face. Her violet eyes only grew sadder as she watched Cora back away again. Even now, she expected punishment and rebuke from others.

Thelma did not indulge her. "You know better than I how the death of Prince Horace will be received by the people of Ukatis," she said. "Is he the king's only child?"

No heir meant a succession crisis, which could lead to another civil war between rival factions fighting over an empty throne. Thelma assumed Cora was aware of this danger—though if she was going to die soon, she likely wouldn't live long enough to see it.

"I hope you will not be executed, Cora," Thelma replied gently. "Enough blood has been spilled.”

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Dumb surprise slowly overtook Cora's face as the context of Thelma's question sank in.

"He is." She confirmed. "Queen Drusilla died in childbirth and the King never took another wife."

There would be illegitimate children floating about, of course. Horace likely had his own slew of bastards, which normally wouldn't be an issue. The current King was neither beloved nor hated; but his health was rumored to be failing and some of the greedier Lords had no doubt turned their beady eyes towards the throne.

If only she had borne a child, the Cholmondeley reign would be more secure. Not that Cora was desperate to keep that particular family in power.

"I don't know how the common people will react, truly. Yet if there is any suffering to be had, it will be placed on them, disproportionately so." She sighed, shoulders sagging.

"I've been raised to believe that my duty is to protect my people. I always tried to do right by Ukatis, and put my own needs as secondary to the welfare of my home." Cora squinted not at Thelma, but into the middle distance over her shoulder. "Is that arrogant? To believe that I have such grand purpose?"

Thelma Goth

 

[Thelma Goth]

“That is unfortunate,” Thelma said, and meant it quite sincerely.

Cora genuinely cared for the people of her homeworld, that much was clear. Yet she doubted whether she was right to do so. When the Princess squinted off into the distance past Thelma—which wasn’t very hard to do, seeing as she was nearly a full head taller than the seamstress—and asked if she was arrogant for wanting to protect Ukatis, Thelma shook her head.

“That is what you were born to do, is it not? A noble’s responsibility is to protect those they rule over. That is what true nobility is.” She chanced a small smile, but it was fleeting. By killing Horace, Cora had not shielded Ukatis from a tyrant—she had simply exchanged one evil for another. Thelma did not have the heart to share this revelation out loud, but Cora would likely come to a similar conclusion.

A guard approached, standing in the doorway. Thelma glanced back at him, then looked down, rubbing the palms of her gloved hands together slowly and nervously. “It is one of the drawbacks of a monarchy, that so much rides upon the royal clan getting along, producing heirs, and living long enough to not cause problems. One family’s fate becomes tied with that of the entire nation.”

The guard coughed as if to remind them that the visit had a time limit.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora was surprised to feel her chest deflate in an exhale of relief. She'd arrived on Coruscant with a bloated ego that had slowly begun to deflate after being pricked full of tiny holes. Jedi had questioned her duty, her reason for joining the Alliance, and her sense of self. Now, the Princess was caught between the ideals she'd been raised with, and those she'd learned from outside of her home.

In the end, she wasn't sure what she was left with. At least Thelma didn't think she was arrogant for her feeling of responsibility, but it was a fleeting comfort.

The arrival of the guard drew cursory glances from both women, a silent understanding.

“It is one of the drawbacks of a monarchy, that so much rides upon the royal clan getting along, producing heirs, and living long enough to not cause problems. One family’s fate becomes tied with that of the entire nation.”

Cora didn't disagree, but she didn't agree either. She could only shrug.

"It is our way."

It was less of an excuse and more of a lament. Cora lifted tired eyes to the seamstress.

"Could you do something for me, Thelma? Could you tell my family that I love them, that I'm sorry, and that I will always care for them deeply?" Her words were not elegant or well-crafted, but spoken from a desperate, fearful heart. Cora hesitated, wondering if she should've enlisted Giselle to deliver the message given that she was family. But the thought had only struck her now, her cousin had departed, and for some reason it made more sense to ask a third party. One who did not judge her.

Thelma Goth

 

[Thelma Goth]

"It is our way."

“Yes.”

Ukatis was entitled to their way like any other planet. Thelma would not scoff at them or trash their entire culture simply because she had seen the worst of it. There was good and bad to be found in all things.

But now she had to leave, or else the guard would force her out. Thelma took a deep breath, preparing herself to end what might be their last meeting.

"Could you do something for me, Thelma? Could you tell my family that I love them, that I'm sorry, and that I will always care for them deeply?"

“Of course,” she said without hesitation. “I’ll tell them.” With that same sad but kind look in her eyes, she reached through the bars and took Cora’s hand in a final gesture of comfort and farewell. “Goodbye, Cora.”

Corazona von Ascania​