Of Crowns and Thrones: Lore

[Cersei Moirae]

​

Pantheon of Vas'hal | Hall of Many​

Amethyst waters lapped at the ivory steps that dipped into its depths and further where the swollen river hid the lower levels of the sacred structure.

The lost kingdom of the Infinite Darkness was on the precipice of ruin. While they had endured...survived, Malagarr waded within the rift of archaic time, starving. They were a modest people, now more than ever. However, with being secluded from the Galaxy for as long as they have, Malagarrians used their eremite tendencies to delve deeper- otherwise unperturbed by the reach of the Galactic public. Many had a bond, or sense of belonging where they were born, but it was often no more than for the only layer of society they knew.

This was not so on Malagarr. Everything was connected; from the molten-compressed-core to the bees that bore their nests unto the Ninnuk tree and the very pollen that drifted the breeze.

The people were very much the same, in that their knowing and very biology had synced with the planet hundreds of years ago. They drew from it like a ever-constant replenishing well and the massive ruby sphere mirrored their effort. While sands devoured most of the continents, where there was soil, it was rich in nutrient and it's deeper nature full of various ore. This was especially so because the only mining and usage were by that of the small populace. Malagarrians never over indulged and strongly believed in balance.

In this belief, harmony was bore from the very womb of the Darkside. It was not often the two words were strung together. Proof of its practicality glistened in the eyes of the people and the wonder of a rainforest that manifested upon The Great Desert of Baleez.

Such eyes peered up then, casting their liquid gold into the bindings of old texts. The daughter of Malagarr stretched her hand too, letting the soft pad of her pointer touch along the titles. "I know it's here," she breathed and the dust settled there...whooshed. Some of the now airborne particles sifted up her nose and her eyes widened in a trivial fear. The princess quickly turned, near too late, smothering her thin face into the crook of her arm. Accheeww!

She had braced her diminutive frame against the massive bookshelf's rolling ladder. So massive it climbed at least two stories high. The russet maned creature peered down as if just now remembering. Her eyes widened a fraction and proceeded to be assaulted with another bout of sneezing. In the throws of a much needed reprieve, Cersei was suddenly three fingers on the way to falling a considerable height.

History, as it were, often repeated itself.

When she fell, the shelves did little more than groan. Nevertheless, upon landing in a heap of tangled legs and arms, a cacophony of books fell, in not one, but two waves shortly after. The Sorceress' brought her hands up protecting her face, swatting the lessons as they rained down. Because she was alone, she allowed herself to shriek and yip.

"This is not acceptable," the words were spoken aloud, but she volleyed the same to her sister-Queen across the ether.

[member="Avonmora"]​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

The cool waters of the shallow pools caressed her dark skin as she closed her eyes, wishing that the palm trees were just a little bit closer to offer her some of their protective shade. The heat of Malagaar, even to its native citizens, would too often be unbearable hot, the harsh rays of the sun not only causing even the darkest of skins to blister, but for the bodies of those on the ground to feel as though they were burning from the inside. Some days, not even the shallow pools helped. Some might have called them a waste of water, but Avonmora knew better. They were an investment in the sanity of desert folk who usually had little to begin with.

She, however, was not among them. For all the imperfections in her constitution, she had trained since birth to become what she was; a Seer of Malagaar, one whose gifts depended not only on her ability to remain sane, but to remain so as her mind twisted and turned, flowing with the currents of the Force, not only accepting its visions, but often seeking them out, parting the way between what may be and what is. She was proud of her position, as well of the blood she had to spill to get there. Malagaar was not a place for the weak, though the strength of its people rarely relied on the strength of their muscles.

With a sigh, the pale eyed woman rose, her steps careful so that she would not slip. The time to cool her body down had passed. There was work today. Already she could sense the Dancer of Death take a faulty step, knew what sight there was to behold inside the dark library. And she already knew that her services would be required.

The soft muslin fabric of her simple dress provided a further breeze to cool her body down. Inside the library, the heat was much lessened, yet the air lay heavy. Was there a place in the big galaxy in which libraries felt not quite as stuffy? Avonmora had never stepped foot off Malagaar, and did not know.

“The books are not your enemy, Princess,” she said with a soft smile as her pale eyes beheld the princess on the ground, “perhaps if you did not treat them as such, they would not feel the need to land upon your head.”

[member="Cersei Moirae"]

 

[Cersei Moirae]

Large molten pools stared up and she groaned, "I've requested this library to be serviced and organized..." Cersei seemed to be talking to herself in that moment, but voiced the frustration regardless. Her chest rose and fell deeply, releasing the tension that wound within her. The deep mahogany crowned woman shook her head and the loose braid at her back whipped to fall over her shoulder. "You are a sight for the sorest, sun-beaten eyes, Seer," she paused, with a sheepish smile. It wasn't often that sort of emotion touched her expression. [member="Avonmora"] often drew it out of her though and the princess suddenly laughed, given her current position among the histories of many surrounding her.

Though the youngest of six siblings, her thirst for knowledge transcended past that of an eager pupil. The beloved daughter, as it were, had known no hunger for rule and as such, used her time with the many teachers. Time...she had in plenty as a child. Dark brows then stitched together as the great library twisted into a memory she would have rather left in the recesses of her mind:

They were a a massive sort- if that were an apt description of the hell that befell the capital just over a decade prior. An enemy that shook the foundations of her people and changed the course of the Moirae family forever...

"Cersei...run....RUUUUN!" the voice of her Zariss boomed and crackled over the Estate's throne room. And though the young woman had heard the plea, the order to evacuate, the princess had sat within the pools of crimson of her parents, her courtly skirts having mopped up the remnant of life. The gold of her eyes near lost, swallowed by the pupil abyss and rivers of tears scorched her cheeks. No one had came for the adolescent, not yet, and the eldest of them had shared the same fate of the Queen and King.

Angst and resolve had brought the Moirae fledgling to her feet and her wild power reached to search for the others. It had moved in harsh, vivid light uncaring of the punishment to seek not only her bloodline, but those close to her. Her emotions were rampant and her head..fogged, but still she hung on for fear of losing them all. It was like searching in the dark and the feel of abandonment cascaded over her being. Fear ebbed the young woman's mind and nearly took hold of her when diminished signatures were revealed.

Her ghostly hand upon the ether reached for her brother Dio and...Lorel... and her heart lurched inside her chest. The two had been holding the proverbial fort down with the other Warriors. A many of the Sorceress had been...absent and her mind reeled to understand. Where had Zariss gone? Nalea? She could feel them close... and suddenly, Cersei had found that her steps led her to the main doors. Power tore them open, the anger from loss flared in a release of kinetic energy, her mouth steadily twisting curses. Some of which merely came to her.

Cersei would not sit idle while her people were slaughtered...

The Elders joined in her scourge, absent her sisters Zariss and Nalea and through their collective minds, eventually banished the enemy in a way that the raid would reach no ear outside of Malagarr. It did not go without loss, clearly, and the kindgom birthed a new Queen eventually. All that the beloved daughter recalled then, was the bright eyes of Lorel lose their light. She had thought her heart to burst inside her chest. It had been quite enough to lose family to the madness. But Lorel...

Were it not for him, Cersei would have surely perished and as if the thought of her adherent could conjure beings, Toren appeared. The sight of the twin and consort of her sister stirred in her a rage... that she couldn't manage to release. It boiled though and was ever apparent on her emotion riddled surface. "Leave me..."

"He is my brother... how dar-"

The eyes of the youngest narrowed like daggers, "Then, where were you?!" Even though the man uttered nothing in response, Cersei knew then and it all made too much sense. Her nostrils flared in defiance and her liquid pools moved back to Lorel, a hand stroking his cold cheek. "Leave me..." It was no request this time and within moments she had found herself alone.

It was the Seer who came then, in the quiet to begin a different kind of lesson.

____________________________​

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​

Cersei stood then, grasping a few of the old binding on the way of her ascent. The memory had taken a toll and her smile had worn along the edges, "What can you tell me of Boadicea, Avonmora..." the princess paused when she reached to begin picking up the various texts that had assaulted her. The question had been casual- and for the most part, it had meant to be just that.

She was no longer that girl, but defiance was still very much a part of her and the thirst became insatiable.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

The library was serviced and organized, but Avonmora saw no need to point that out to the princess. Offering a hand, she helped the young Cercei back up to her feet, her ale eyes studying the woman with curiosity. Was she having her visions again, of the past? Or perhaps, had the future deemed her ready to knock on her door? Avonmora had no answer to that, and would not have an answer soon either, as the princess asked… For some very dark thing.

“More than you will find in these books,” the Seer at last replied, “Malagaar remembers Queen Boadicea, even if not all of its people do. But there is little that we were ever permitted to write down. Written words bear more power than certain people are comfortable with them wielding.”

Carefully, she led the princess back to the table, and moved a strand of hair out of her sun kissed skin after she sat down. A snap of the fingers combined with a gentle push through the Force ensured that the two would soon receive some tea and nourishments.

“We were a barbaric society once, ruled both by Magic and by blood,” Avonmora began the tale, “and even by the bloody standards we ourselves inflicted, Boadicea was amongst the worst of us all. She did not wait for her moon blood to arrive before she killed her sisters, and when the blood came, she removed her own mother from the throne as well. She was savage, but she was also raw with power and passion, and not a single Sorceress of Malagaar could best her in the years she spent as the sole ruler upon the throne.

When Maximus arrived with his Warrior forces, Boadicea was in the front lines. She wreaked havoc on his soldiers, and for the first time in decades, Maximus found himself against someone who could actually match his own power. But despite this, they did not meet. Not for many years. It was only later, between battles, that he managed to break into her fortress and come into her bedchamber.

They were opposites in every possible way. Maximus was cold, cunning, and somewhat distant. Boadicea was passion, fire, and perhaps more than a little bit insane. You cannot be as powerful as her and still remain levelheaded. He was a Warrior, and she was a Sorceress, and the night he came into her bedchamber, they became one. We do not know if either had intended to seduce the other or just kill them, but when they emerged, there was no longer a Queen of Malagaar and a Warrior, but there suddenly was the King and Queen of the Empire of Infinite Darkness.”

It was a lovely tale. Avonmora often pondered on how many of its details were actually true. She had never been able to reach back far enough, to see the events through the Force, and could only hope that one day, she would. And still, it made a lovely tale, one that little girls could listen to and learn from, for it was very clear that without Boadicea’s power and strength, she would have died long before Maximus ever entered her fortress.

But the tale did not end so happily.

“Boadicea left Malagaar then,” Avonmora resumed, “and save for a single return, when she came to give us a few rules, she’d forgotten about Malagaar entirely. The capital of the Empire of Infinite Darkness was her home now, and it still is to this day. And its name, you will not find in a single scroll or book, for we are tasked with keeping it hidden and secret until all the water dries and the sands of Malagaar turn to ashes.

There are whispers and rumours that she returned… Seven hundred years ago. But Malagaar was not blessed with the touch of her foot then.”

At last, the tea and nourishment arrived. Avonmora poured for the both of them and waved the servant away before she took a good long sip. It was not great tea. The flora that Malagaar provided wasn’t amazing for this. But it was better than water right now.

“Is that what you wished to know, princess?”


[member="Cersei Moirae"]

 

[Cersei Moirae]

With a book still in hand, the woman slid into a chair at the table the Seer had led her to. Slender arms fell to the dark wood, cradling what she had carried with her. By the body language and but the first sentence of [member="Avonmora"], the Princess decided it was a tale she would would more than likely not want to hear. She also knew, it was the one she had to and her molten pools fixated on the pale ones set against umber skin.

What started as...dedicated listening, turned into immersion and Cersei openly flinched. With each word that dropped from the Seer's lush lips a new picture flashed before her very eyes. It hit too close to home and it took her a fair few tries to effectively block the sudden vivid scene before her. She had conjured the images herself- it being a way to understand in absolute detail. Normally, she dictated this, but as of more recently it came and went without beckoning.

The next words that came from her mouth...were delicate, "Avonmora, do you believe that history repeats itself?"

My sister may have murdered our mother...our...father...our...

"Can it be changed...or is it a fate set in stone?" The near-raven haired Sorceress brought her hand up to touch upon her forehead as if the eruption of imagery caused pain. In reality, she could have been fighting an obvious coup, having been too close that she was blinded. Cersei's mind reeled, considering the path that would put her on.

Boadecia had been contacting the Princess from the grave and Cersei speculated that it had been the reason of her power flares. However, how would one prove such a thing? The russet-haired creature was not sure she wanted to reach her proverbial hand in that particular part of the ether just yet. She took a steady breath, "She's back."

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Pale eyes watched the princess with concern. One did not have to be a practitioner of the Force in order to understand that something was amiss. But what? Avonmora did not have the freedom to demand an answer, and she knew with Cersei that often, letting her speak of it when she wished it so rather than applying pressure was a better way to get all the information. But she could feel something happening within her, beneath the surface of her face.

The seer did not respond when the first question came, and neither did she when the second one followed. She could see the pain, the puzzlement, and then…

She’s back.

Avonmora’s face and body stilled like water in a glass. There was no readable reaction that the Seer could offer her Princess. Had those words come from any other lips, she would have dismissed them with indifference, thinking those were the words of madmen. But Cercei was not a madwoman. She knew of her growing powers, knew of the storms that wreaked through her. No, if those words came from the Princess…

“I do not believe that history is bound to repeat itself,” she said carefully after a long silence, “it is easy for us to see certain patterns in hindsight, and ignore the things that have happened that alter or break the pattern.”

But how would such words comfort one who believed Boadicea to be back? To see things that would made a return so tangible?

Her movement was full of grace as she leaned forward, taking Cercei’s hands in hers, holding them tight.

“There is no fate but the path we carve for ourselves, Cercei,” she said her name, “we all carry great potential, for better and worse, but what we do, how we reach it, and every single step along the way, is of our own making. The Seers do not see one outcome; we see many, and there is much guesswork involved in deciding and understanding which is the likeliest to be true. But the likeliest isn’t always the one to happen.”

Again she tightened her grip on the Princess’ hands. “Cercei, stories of Boadicea may vary and differ, but all her stories have two themes in common. The first one is her abandonment of Malagaar, and the second… She is a formidable, mad, and dangerous creature. Why do you believe she is back? Has she spoken to you? Has she shown you visions?”

[member="Cersei Moirae"]

 

[Cersei Moirae]

Though the Darkside was of Malagarr and it sang in their very blood, Cersei was notably within the shadows. The Princess was near honest, the darkness having manifested more fully upon the massacre of most of her immediate family. Though considerably powerful, the occasion that she would use malice was far and between. The first touch had been addicting and a young sorceress had found that it gave her sorrow and anger a release unrivaled. It had taken years to harness her unbridled power and now... it slipped often, revealing a fanatical intensity.

The inky creature would not lie to herself- while there was a natural fear, she relished it.

Cersei begged understanding. However, she would not ask it of Boadicea. "Avo-..." her soft vocals moved to whisper and almond-shaped eyes glimmered in the low light of the library.

Her throat suddenly seemed raw and the words, while formed, became frozen and were unable to climb past her slender throat. Cersei gripped her confidant and Seer, a plead in her golden pools even as an ancient power slid over her tanned, olive skin. Her very fingertips tingled and the woman drew in a breath in attempt to stave The Dark Queen and swallowed.

Communication would not come in the form of any vocal.

Without allowing the thought to reach the forefront of her mind, her soft hands gripped the darker ones and cast her dreams upon the Seer, allowed her to feel the heat of Boadicea as it breathed along her spine. Allowed her to feel the mock-wanton euphoria that felt like the pull of a siren. In this, Cersei Moirae still held to the intense gaze of @Avonmora.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Communication did not have to be vocal. Pale eyes squinted and took in the sight of Cercei as her voice was snuffed out, hands gripping, the look on her face finalizing the message that was so silently conveyed.

Avonmora could feel it. Had they been speaking of any other subject in the minutes prior to this, she would not have guessed, not in all the years that have passed through history, that this was who she now thought it was. The Force was full of the ghosts and the remains of those who had been there before, and not all of them were benevolent in any way.

But where Cercei might have expected to see compassion and understanding, there was only the hardening of the look upon the Seer's face, and away from prying eyes, the hardening of the Seer's heart.

"If she wishes to return through you," the dark skinned beauty warned, pulling her hands back, wishing not to touch her at present, "then you will not be able to stop her. You are strong, Princess. But you are not strong enough to pose the slightest of challenges to her. Feel her power along your skin; taste her through what you are sensing now. We are but slugs to her, toys at best."

The Seer rose from her seat, the fabric of the edges of her dress spooling down around her feet. There was no need for books, there would be no answers in scrolls.

"Force, give me strength," she whispered, her back turned to Cercei, her eyes closed, as she reached in the Force, hoping to find more than the single answer she at present possessed.

[member="Cersei Moirae"]