Private No Good Deed

[Aielyn Veralas]

Aielyn's jaw tightened, but she did not look away. She should have expected the counter—should have known he would not let the question settle unanswered.

If she succeeded, what then?

The answer should have been simple. She takes back Valisca Prime. She restores what was lost. But nothing was ever that simple.

Her fingers brushed against the surface of the table, tracing an invisible pattern against the grain. A nervous habit, though she would never name it as such.

"If I succeed…" She let the words hang in the air for a moment, testing them, tasting them. "Then I inherit the ruin Karis has made of my home. I take up the burden of rebuilding a world that may never trust me again."

Her gaze darkened, distant for a moment. "And I do it alone."

She had never once let herself believe that reclaiming Valisca Prime would mean returning to what was. It was not a throne she would step back into—it was a graveyard.

His next question struck deeper. Did she have a choice not to return?

Her fingers stilled.

"No," she admitted, her voice quiet but steady. "Not if I want to live with myself."

There it was. The truth she had been circling, avoiding, refusing to name. She had never been running from her duty. She had been running from the fear that she would fail again.

A breath. A beat. She lifted her gaze to meet his once more.

"Karis is not the only one who holds power over Valisca Prime. His rule is not absolute—not yet. If I return, it will not be as a lost princess begging to reclaim what was taken. It will be as something else. Something stronger."

The conviction in her voice was quiet, but it was there. Not arrogance, not reckless ambition—just a simple, undeniable truth.

"I will return." The weight of it settled, no longer a question, no longer a fear. "But I will not do it blindly."

She leaned back slightly, exhaling, as if the words had taken something from her. Perhaps they had.

"The next time I stand on Valisca Prime, it will not be as a woman escaping her fate." A pause. A sharp, wry smirk, fleeting but real. "It will be as the one who chooses it."

Caelan Valoren

 

[Caelan Valoren]

The answering a question with a question perturbed her. The way her jaw visibly tightened gave her away. But he didn't say anything about it. He could tell that he was pushing her buttons in a way that they needed to be pushed, that they were getting to the heart of things despite her reluctance to speak on the matter.

But alone? He tsk'd when she said that.

"Who said you would do it alone?" he asked. "You think everyone there will stand against you, distrust you? People do not think in unity. There will always be some who side with you."

Never alone. It didn't matter how bad you screwed something up, people would forgive. Maybe not all, but many would. You would never be able to get everyone to hate you unless you did something so grossly heinous that the population itself was threatened by your action. Fleeing from evil? Perhaps slightly cowardly, but it did not cause direct harm to the people. When he'd been forced to flee? There were some angry about it, but he was a fourteen-year-old kid. They forgave him. She was older, but they would forgive her too.

Plus, he wouldn't let her go alone.

"I will help you."

Another noble in a situation similar to his. How could he back away and not help her? What kind of man would he be? How could he sit by and do nothing knowing that her homeworld was in the hands of someone who had taken power through less than honorable means and was going to do things that were detrimental to the people of the world? Not only was that fundamentally and morally wrong, but he also wouldn't be a good Jedi if he stood by and did nothing.

"Starting with diplomatic methods, but I will help in whatever it takes, assuming you will allow."

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace), Prosthetic Left Arm

TAGS: Aielyn Veralas​

 

[Aielyn Veralas]

Aielyn's jaw remained tight, but there was a flicker—barely there, barely perceptible—of something else in her gaze. Not relief, not gratitude, but the quiet weight of someone who had long since stopped expecting help to come.

"No one said I would do it alone." Her voice was quieter now, controlled, but there was an edge to it—a blade dulled from overuse yet still sharp enough to cut. "That does not mean I will not have to."

The notion of allies was not foreign to her. There had been those who stood with her family. Those who had sworn loyalty to the Aetherian Lineage, who had fought, who had died for it. But loyalty was not eternal. Three months was long enough for allegiances to shift, for fear to settle into bones that once stood unyielding.

Would they still stand for her? Or had they learned to live under Karis' rule?

Her hands rested lightly against the table, fingers pressing into the smooth surface before she exhaled, steadying herself.

"Diplomacy," she repeated, and for the first time, her lips curved—not quite a smirk, but something close. "You assume Valisca Prime has ever answered to it."

Her people were not lawless. They were not easily bent, nor easily broken. But the game of politics had always been an art of power, of leverage, of maneuvering unseen until the moment of revelation.

Karis had understood that.

And she had been too naïve to see it.

Her violet-blue gaze settled back on him, searching—not for deception, but for the why of it.

"You would help?" The question was not skepticism, but curiosity. "What do you gain?"

Because no one did anything for nothing. Not even nobles. Not even Jedi.

Caelan Valoren

 

[Caelan Valoren]

"Everyone answers to diplomacy, it just takes the right kind," he said, offering a slight shrug.

He wasn't one to side with gunboat diplomacy, but sometimes that was what it took. There was a certain class of individual out there that, when they got into power, didn't care what was said to them. It didn't matter what you offered, it didn't matter that you gave them great things that would make the rest of their life comfortable. The only thing they cared about was power, and until that power was threatened, they couldn't be shaken. He knew how to take care of them, as well, he just didn't like it.

Someone like whomever this Karis was that she had mentioned would undoubtedly require threatening with power. In certain circumstances that was fine, but Caelan would not lead with that. Could not lead with that. It went against every fiber of his being to start anything off with violence.

"I will help and I ask for nothing in return."

He knew it sounded ridiculous, but she would find nothing in his demeanor, in the way he sat in the chair, the expression on his face, or in his aura that indicated he was lying. There was nothing that he could want from her. He offered assistance because it was the right thing to do, just as he always offered it when it was needed. That was the ideals of the Jedi in action, but also the ideals that he was raised upon by his parents. They were not going to find an ulterior motive in this. He was positive Anavi would support this as well.

"I have resources that can assist, both militarily and financially. If it helps those in need, we'll do it because that's what is right."

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace), Prosthetic Left Arm

TAGS: Aielyn Veralas ​

 

[Aielyn Veralas]

Aielyn studied him in silence, her expression unreadable at first—not out of disbelief, but because she had heard promises before. So many of them wrapped in silk, gilded in intentions that shattered the moment they met resistance.

But there was something in the way he said it. No performative grandstanding. No expectation in return. Just calm resolve. A certainty she had forgotten could exist in others.

"You don't know what you're offering." Her voice was soft, not dismissive, but edged with something old. Worn. "Karis isn't the kind of man who yields to logic. Or compassion. Or principle." Her fingers traced a slow line along the surface of her chair's armrest, thoughtful. "He'll see a man like you and believe you're just another idealist waiting to be broken."

Her gaze flicked back to him—sharper now, not to wound, but to test. To see if the conviction behind his words held.

"And what will you do when that moment comes?" she asked, low and serious. "When the path to what's right is clouded by the cost of it?"

She let the silence settle for a moment, then continued, more quietly:

"You say you ask nothing in return. I believe you." Her voice gentled—not warm, but honest. "But that doesn't mean I have nothing to lose."

Another pause. Her next words came with a wry twist of her lips, barely a smile.

"You're not wrong. Diplomacy works—on those who still listen."

She straightened in her chair, just slightly. "If you're prepared to help me—then understand this won't be clean. There will be choices. And some of them… won't have good endings."

Her eyes met his again—and this time, the mask of distance dropped just enough to show the weight she carried beneath the surface.
"Still want to help?"

Caelan Valoren

 

[Caelan Valoren]

Of course he would see Caelan that way. He was young, a Jedi, offering aid to a woman who had fled from him. He'd probably think Caelan was doing out of a desire to woo the woman in question. White Knight syndrome, as it were. But there were things the man wouldn't know about him that could be used against him. For example, Caelan was married, and happily so. He very much loved his wife, even if she didn't exactly return the same level of affection towards him. In addition, despite his young age, he was a more than capable combatant with numerous combat experiences under his belt.

"I anticipate him underestimating me," he said, nodding his head. "Not willing to count on it, but based on your description of him, I believe he will. And I believe that when it comes down to it, no amount of request or offer will sway him."

Caelan had counted on that being reality before he'd made the offer to help.

He was different from most, though. Others would demand something of her, or do nothing because it wasn't their problem. Or maybe they would bring in a huge army and subjugate the world in order to "free" it. Certainly he wouldn't be able to resist the might of the Alliance if it came to that, but he wasn't about to make that request. It was wrong to bring war to a world when it wasn't needed. That was something of a last resort, something that shouldn't ever have to happen.

There was an option that Caelan had at his disposal being of royal lineage. Something that most would advise against. Something he aimed to employ.

"Yes, I still intend to help you. I said I would and I don't go back on my word."

He took a deep breath and looked her square in the eyes.

"If he fails to respond to typical diplomatic efforts, as we both suspect, I intend to challenge him to a duel to the death."

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace), Prosthetic Left Arm

TAGS: Aielyn Veralas ​

 

[Aielyn Veralas]

The words sat between them like a blade laid gently across the table—not unsheathed, but no less lethal.

"You can't be serious."

It wasn't a question.

Her voice was quiet, but there was a sharpness beneath it, like frost forming along glass. Not anger. Not even fear. Something deeper—an old, scarred awareness of what death costs, even when it's wrapped in duty.

She stood slowly, not with drama, but with gravity—the motion of someone trying to stop something with posture alone.

"You don't know him," she said, finally meeting his eyes. "Not really. You're thinking like a Jedi—like a noble. That there's honor in a fight like that." Her lips pressed together. "There isn't. Not with Karis."

A breath, sharper than the last.

"If he agrees, it won't be out of principle. It'll be because he knows how to twist it. How to make it spectacle. He'll turn it into theater. And if you win…" She hesitated, gaze flicking just slightly off before returning. "If you survive—he'll already have turned your victory into his narrative."

Another pause. And this time her voice dropped lower, but steadier.

"I don't want you to die for me, Caelan." The words were plain. Not dramatic. Not soft. Just true. "I don't want your people to lose a king because of mine."

Her jaw tensed, but her tone stayed level.

"There has to be another way."

She didn't say please. Didn't beg.

But the silence afterward carried the weight of a woman who'd seen too many good men become ghosts in the name of doing what was right.

Caelan Valoren

 

[Caelan Valoren]

She didn't see it. Didn't see what he had done, what he had experienced, the things he knew. She didn't understand the gravity of the words he'd spoken, chalking them up to the honorable ideology of a Jedi or a Nobleman. There was some of that in it. It was, certainly, an effort in the honorable defense of those who were unable to oppose the man themselves. But there was much more to it, a deeper understanding born of dealing with things, people, darkness, deeper than what she likely expected.

He let her speak, waiting until she was completely finished, standing across from him, looking at him with the gravity of one who'd seen loss, before he chose to do anything. He didn't smile, didn't shake his head, didn't rise. No, he just sat there, his gaze focused on hers, and he let his voice carry, though he spoke slowly, calmly, and with little flourish.

"I understand him better than you think I do, which is why I know he will accept the challenge. He'll see me as a white knight, attempting to swoop in and defend the damsel in distress, thinking me an honor bound opponent that he can use dirty parlor tricks against and that I won't respond in kind because it goes against a code of ethics that I'm sworn to. Indeed, I intend to allow him to believe that is largely the case, that I won't come down to his level of combat."

There was a glint in his eye that gave away the fact he found this distasteful, but that he had come to an understanding of the galaxy as a whole that necessitated he fight in such a manner at times. He'd hate it. It would pain him for a long time. But it was necessary.

"Indeed, he will mock me greatly during the course of the fight. Nothing I'm not used to, I assure you. He'll use underhanded tactics until he thinks me defeated, until I seem winded, worn down. He'll talk for a moment, then, attempting to build himself up. Then he'll strike, intending to kill me, but instead find himself in defeat. He'll be flustered, not understanding how I could have possibly avoided death after seeming so beaten. I'll say something poetic about justice, something meant to rub his ineptitude in his face, to gut his ego. Then I'll make to kill him, but strike the ground beside his head instead, showing mercy, and walk away."

His voice trailed off into silence for a moment, his eyes still not wavering.

"But that blow to his ego will cause him to rise and attempt to strike me down in cowards' fashion, with an attack from behind. Knowing this, I will avoid his attack and kill him cleanly."

Leaning forward, just slightly, he looked her square in the eye.

"The key to killing a man isn't the death blow to his body, it's the death blow to his ego. He will unravel when made a fool in front of others."

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace), Prosthetic Left Arm

TAGS: Aielyn Veralas ​

 

[Aielyn Veralas]

She didn't speak for a long moment.

No protest. No rebuttal. Just silence—sharp, thoughtful, heavy.

Her gaze didn't drop. If anything, it intensified—not challenging, but deeply searching. Peering past the words, the plan, the precision… to the place in him where the steel was being forged.

"You've already killed him," Aielyn said softly.

Not a condemnation.

"Not in action. In your mind."

Her arms folded slowly across her chest, a gesture not of defense, but of focus—pulling herself in, centering.

"Every beat, every moment, you've rehearsed it. Not just what you'll do, but how he'll fall. How he'll speak. How he'll bleed."

There was no anger in her voice. Only a kind of sorrow.

"That's not strategy, Caelan. That's prophecy."

She stepped forward once—not aggressive, just… deliberate. As if drawn closer by the gravity of what had just been spoken into the air.

"You said you wouldn't come down to his level." Her voice thinned, not in volume, but in restraint. "But you're not standing above him either. You're just standing opposite. Waiting for the right line to cross."

A breath, slow and quiet. Controlled.

"Do you know what scares me?" she asked, gaze still locked with his. "It's not that you'll lose. It's not even that you'll kill him."

Her voice dropped—gentler now, yet somehow heavier.

"It's that if you win that way...
...you'll never come back to the man who offered me help expecting nothing in return."

A moment passed.

Then her expression eased—not cold, not cruel. Just... deeply tired.

"If he dies at your hand, let it be because you must. Not because you've written the story too well to change the ending."

She turned slightly, the moment breaking, but the weight of it still in her voice.

"The galaxy doesn't need more men who learn how to kill monsters… by becoming them."

Caelan Valoren

 

[Caelan Valoren]

A shake of the head.

"Not at all," he said, unbothered by her accusation. "Planning is neither hoping or desiring an outcome. Nor is it prophecy, because a wise person knows that the best laid plans are rarely what come to fruition. Though that plan is sound, will it come to that? I do not know. He may anticipate it. He may counter it. He may refuse the duel entirely, even though I doubt it."

It was easy to understand how she felt. She didn't want him to become like the monster that he intended to face off with. He didn't want to become like him either. In fact, he had no intention of it. Frankly put, Caelan did NOT want to fight the man. It was the least desirable of all outcomes. But he was a practical person and he understood it was likely to come to that.

"I don't WANT to kill him. I don't want to kill anyone. If I could live my life without ever having to draw my saber again I would much prefer it. However, I am a practical person and I understand that what I want, I won't always receive."

He stood, slowly, and walked over to the small bar area to pour a glass of non-alcoholic icebrew. All the talking was making him thirsty. He took a swig from it and allowed the calming liquid to course down his throat before he turned to look at her once more.

"I'm not going to become him. I'm just going to defeat him."

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace), Prosthetic Left Arm

TAGS: Aielyn Veralas ​

 

[Aielyn Veralas]

She didn't move. Not closer. Not away. Just stood there—shoulders drawn, spine straight, as if holding herself upright on sheer will alone.

Her gaze stayed locked on him, unwavering. Not cold… but measured. Heavy with a kind of weight that had nothing to do with years, and everything to do with everything she'd carried since.

"You say that now."

No bite. No accusation. Just quiet truth, dropped like a stone in still water.

"So did he."

There was no need to name him. The ghost had long since etched itself into the conversation.

Her voice didn't rise, didn't falter. If anything, it seemed gentler now—too even, as though the edge had been sanded away by time, not healing.

"He didn't want to kill either. Said the same words—justice, order, peace. He believed them. I believed him."

Her arms folded loosely across her chest, not out of defiance, but as if bracing herself from within. A pause lingered between them, unspoken history tightening the air.

"And maybe, at first, it was true. But then the cost changed. And he didn't notice." A breath—sharp and shallow. "Or maybe he did. And just didn't care."

She looked away briefly, jaw tight, eyes distant.

"He called it duty. Said the cause required sacrifice." Her gaze flicked back to Caelan, steady. "What he meant was—he couldn't stop himself anymore. The plan had gone too far."

Another pause.

"You want to defeat him? Don't do it by being clever. Don't do it by becoming the version of you he expects."

Her voice softened, but it didn't lose strength.

"If the time comes and you have no choice—then strike. I won't stop you." Her hands uncurled slightly at her sides. "But don't script it like a story you've already decided how to end."

She exhaled, just once. And there it was—that flicker. Not fear. Not anger. Something more fragile.

Hope. Fractured and wary.

"Because the moment you start narrating your own war... is the moment you stop hearing anyone else's voice."

And she let that hang—no plea, no demand. Just the echo of someone who had already lost too much to prophecy dressed as purpose.

Caelan Valoren

 

[Caelan Valoren]

He didn't say anything, but let her speak until she was finished, merely drinking his icebrew. It was easy to understand where she was coming from with all of this. He would worry about it as well if he was in her position and didn't want someone becoming just like the person that had gotten her into this mess. It was very easy to do. There were lots of nobles out there who started out intending to do the right things. They had a plan, they developed it, implemented it, but it didn't quite go right, and instead of backing off, they pressed further thinking it would get better.

It rarely ever did, though.

That's how good people become monsters. Or that was how monsters became unchained by feeble attempts to be good people. Both were equally plausible.

"I have no delusion in believing that my way, or my answer, is always the right one," he said, holding his glass in two hands at waist level as he regarded her. "That probably differentiates me from him."

He motioned with one hand towards Fate, who was off to the side, listening in.

"Fate will tell you that I've made my share of mistakes, but that instead of making them again and again, or persisting in them, I'm capable of learning from them. I also don't believe in sacrificing people for the greater good, unless its myself, and that I can't do any longer. I have a wife and people who depend on me. I will do everything I can to stop him without doing lasting harm to him. That is all I intend: to stop him. I do not have any desire or wish to harm him or anyone else."

Tilting his head, he motioned to her.

"Does that satisfy you?"

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace), Prosthetic Left Arm

TAGS: Aielyn Veralas ​