Public Korriban : Rituals of a Queen?

[Elian Mareth]

(smirks)

"And you’re gentler than you pretend."

 

[Zori Galea]

(She lifts her head slightly, meeting his gaze with a hint of mock offense.)

"I am not gentle."

 

[Elian Mareth]

"You are......You just hide it behind fury and philosophy."

 

[Zori Galea]

(Her teasing smile fades. She looks down at his chest, thoughtful.)

"I told myself I was just… using you.

The Jedi emissary. A pawn. A symbol.

Get him to fall, get him to stay.... Now I hate how warm you are when you sleep."

(She sits up slowly, her back to him, looking out at the crimson stars beyond the stone archway.)

"I....I didn’t want this."

 

[Elian Mareth]

"Didn’t want what?"

 

[Zori Galea]

"To remember what it feels like to be… held."

 

[Elian Mareth]

"Zori...."

 

[Zori Galea]

"I can’t afford it. Not now. Not when I’m this close."

(She steps out of the bed)

 

[Elian Mareth]

(He gets up, wrapping a thin cloth around his shoulders, stepping behind her.)

"Then let’s pretend.

For a few more hours, let’s pretend we’re just two people in a galaxy that forgot how to be on the opposite sides..."

 

[Zori Galea]

(softly, almost breaking)

"I ..... I don’t know how to be kind anymore."

 

[Elian Mareth]

"But you remember it.

That’s enough for now. Right? Shouldn't it be enough?"

 

[Zori Galea]

A silence falls. She leans her head back against him. And for once—Zori Galea, the self-proclaimed Sith Queen, lets herself be still. Vulnerable.

ZORI’S MIND – VISION FLASH

her younger self, alone in the ruins of Vhal’tor. Her rage, her rise. The lovers she destroyed. The masters she betrayed. Every choice made with a cold heart.

But now—Elian’s touch, his warmth, his faith in her. And something begins to fracture

PRESENT

She whispers it like a confession
​

"If I let this go any further…I might not want to win anymore."

 

[Elian Mareth]

"Then maybe winning isn’t the point."

 

[Zori Galea]

(She turns to face him—eyes wide, like she’s seeing him for the first time.)

"What if I want both?"

 

[Elian Mareth]

"Then the galaxy’s in trouble."

(He responds with a smirk)

 

[Zori Galea]

They both laugh—but there’s weight behind it. A storm building. Because affection, once real, can either save someone… or break them completely.

 

[Zori Galea]

TEMPLE OF THE SOVEREIGN FLAME – OBSIDIAN SANCTUARY – LATE NIGHT

Rain falls outside in a rare Korriban storm. Thunder rolls across the sky like a war drum. Inside, a fire burns low in a brazier shaped like a Sith sigil, casting golden shadows across the chamber’s black stone.

ZORI stands barefoot in ceremonial robes, now loosened. Her hair falls in waves around her face. Her skin glows in the flickering light. She stares into the flame.​

 

[Elian Mareth]

(ELIAN enters quietly behind her, his robes half-shed, his presence soft—but certain. He doesn’t speak. Just watches her for a long moment, the storm outside echoing his heartbeat.)

 

[Zori Galea]

(She turns.)

(Their eyes meet.)

(No games now. No power struggle. Just something quiet. Real.)


"I’ve touched the Force through rage....Through control...But this… with you…It feels like a new current. A forgotten one."

 

[Elian Mareth]

"Not forgotten. Just… forbidden."

(He closes the distance. Gently takes her hand, fingers tracing the jagged Sith tattoos on her wrist.)

"And when have either of us ever obeyed the rules?"

(He uttered without thinking of the words that just came from his mouth.)