Private Tangled roots and stolen dreams

[Mathilde Leyweald]

Mathilde

The Dukedom of Artois had ever been a quiet and tranquil place to inhabit; the land seemed all but locked out of time, as if refusing the slow, yet inexorable advance of urbanization. Small hamlets and humble villages were the only signs of civilization for many, many miles around, and, more often than not, one could spend an entire day riding on horseback without seeing another person. A simple life, all in all, cherished by the content... and spurned by the ambitious. Those youths adventurous enough to leave their hometown often found their way into the Duke's troops, the peasant rabble drilled into well-disciplined troops by those old enough to have seen action during the civil war- in those halcyon days when they were still regarded as heroic rebels by the populace, hailed for their bravery in standing against the tyrant who left them in squalor and misery.

Now, the world all but seemed to have passed them by. Those grizzled warriors could only watch from the battlements, the helplessness that came with each passing season leaving them morose and reclusive. Death would have seen them elevated as martyrs, but now, they felt only a soul-deep weariness. A desire to finally earn their rest.

And they would get their wish, if not in the manner they thought they would.

Few were those who came to the festival in Axilla. Those who did spoke of a shadow that fell over the land, looming over the lives of all those who cared to look beyond the borders of their hometowns; the entire population of the coastal village of Aberfell, they said, was gone. Not that the town had been sacked, mind you - the valuables and livestock remained, which left out the notion of a raid... but signs of struggle were discovered by inquisitive youths, ranging from broken arrows to hastily-ejected blaster battery packs. Those village elders wise enough to recognize the threat left to inform the Duke within the very same day, knowing him to be a gracious lord when it came to the safety of his subjects.

None of them returned.

It would take two weeks of silence before a lone rider finally emerged from the now-quiet dukedom; a knight of Artois, bearing the green-and-white heraldry of his liege-lord! The fine plate armor he wore, however, was so thoroughly entangled in roots that he seemed unable to get down from his horse. Although admitted into a proper medical facility, he soon fell into a deep, death-like slumber, his feverish ramblings nigh-impossible to decipher for the nurses. Only one thing had been made clear by his desperate words; House Leyweald needed the aid of the Princess, and direly so.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Mathilde had not attended the Courtship Festival.

On its own, that wasn't particularly strange - the young woman preferred the spacious woodlands of Artois, and a crowded celebration in the capital wouldn't be as appealing.

What was strange was the lack of contact. Not even a quick holomessage or mail expressing her regret at being unable to attend. Cora had heard whispers of strange happenings from Artois during the festival, but she'd been too wrapped up in playing makeshift hostess to their foreign guests. On Ukatis, rumors and truth often lived side by side.

Then came the bannerman. A lone knight entangled in thickets. He was transported to Axilla's most modern medical facility - an Alliance funded hospital - but wavered on the line between life and death. Often catatonic, he would occasionally be overtaken by fits, uttering frantic murmurs and whispers.

It sounded like a warning, one nurse recalled. But to what?

---

Cora had taken a small detachment of soldiers from Ascania territory with her on her way to Artois. Her rank as Princess was still largely social given her position with the crown, so she was hesitant to request the royal guard.

The Enclave's attack had only just allowed her to work her way back into Ukatian society on the basis of charity work. If the crown chose to punish her now, it would reflect poorly on them - in the midst of a succession crisis, no less.

To say that she was leveraging her position would not be a lie.

"You stay here," she announced as they came upon the edge of the forested area that marked the beginning of Artois territory. "I will go on ahead and signal you to join me once I believe it to be safe."

A hesitant silence lingered over the guards before the captain spoke.

"Princess, are you certain? Jedi though you may be, it is dangerous to go alone."

It was dangerous to go alone. The forest had not changed visually, but there was still something markedly different about it. Something chilling, something sinister. It made Cora all the more certain that she could not risk their lives so easily.

A chill ran through her, and she closed her eyes, allowing it to work through and eventually pass.

"Yes." Her eyes fluttered open. "Wait for me here."

Nudging her mount into a trot, she entered the foreboding woodlands.

Mathilde Leyweald

 

[Mathilde Leyweald]

Mathilde

In their youth, the two friends spent their afternoons rambling the woods, talking excitedly of their dreams and aspirations, granted a rare chance to forget the dreariness of the world they lived in. Their make-belief was a way for them to indulge in some much-needed escapism; but, as the years passed, their long walks in the woods grew less and less frequent. Dear friends, they remained, but life drew them apart, and the road they once followed side-by-side had reached a fork. One took the left path, and the other the right.

There was something unmistakably ominous about the once-welcoming woods, something dark and foreboding... and yet, some of its allure yet remained, as if the very land itself distantly remembered the Princess of Ukatis, and the simpler times before duty burdened her soul. Artois had never been Corazona's home, but its people had welcomed her, all the same, granting her a refuge of sorts whenever she could accept her old friend's invitation.

The ride through the woods proved rather uneventful at first, if not for the unmistakeable sense of being watched. Half an hour into the Jedi Knight's search, however, the first of many horrors revealed itself to her.

Four men hung lifelessly from a treebranch. A sad sight that would have been tragically ordinary for a feudal society, if not for the fact that Bohemond, in his quality as lord, believed in the duty of a noble to carry out the sentence they chose for their subjects. Why, then, would such a fair-handed man have condemned four men seemingly in their prime to such a fate? The closer the knight came to the grisly scene, the more puzzling it became. There were no posts beneath them, nothing that had been kicked away from their feet to leave them to swing, nor was there any length of rope used in the process.

The things wrapped around their necks were thick roots.

A man-at-arms of House Leyweald sat slumped against a nearby tree, roots, branches and leaves wrapped all around him in the same manner the lone rider had been when the medical staff finally managed to get him down from his horse. Oddly enough, he seemed to be in the same state of slumber the knight now found himself in, muttering to himself in his sleep.

"O, to sleep on a fine bed of moss..."

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The forests of Artois had changed.

As she drew further and further into the woods, Cora realized that something was different. Something she couldn't quite describe. They looked as though they usually had, serene and unyielding at the same time. Nature had always been raw in that way; what was natural and beautiful could also snatch your life away in a second.

And now, she felt as though she was venturing into the heart of something dangerous. Unseen eyes rested on her back, an uneasy sensation that had kept her moving, not even stopping to pop the lid from her canteen for a drink.

It wasn't until she came upon a sight so unexpected and grisly that it made her stomach lurch, did she stop the mount in its tracks.

Cora had to crane her neck to get a proper look at the four bodies strung lifelessly from a canopy of trees. Even though such things happened on Ukatis, she'd never seen it herself before. What was more, it didn't seem like Duke Leyweald's style to administer justice in such a crude manner. Hanging was as much of a punishment as it was a warning.

A warning…

Drawing a hunting knife from its sheath at her leg, Cora hesitated on whether or not to cut them down. She squinted - that wasn't rope, it was…roots that had vined around their necks? Her head snapped down in an instant, searching for the posts they'd surely been standing upon before their demise. Nothing.

Her stomach dropped suddenly. This was a warning. But from who?

Could it have been work of the Darkside? It hadn't been very long ago where she'd lead the Jedi in cleansing a small, Dark nexus that had sucked the life from a forest similar to this one. But there, the animals had gone mad - here, the forest was in perfect health and eerily silent.

"O, to sleep on a fine bed of moss..."

A surge of surprised panic shot though Cora. It took her a few long moments to focus on the fallen bannerman, reclined at the base of a tree and covered in roots and leaves. He'd blended in so well that she hadn't noticed him until he'd started mumbling.

That was enough to spur Cora into action. She dismounted her horse and rushed over to the man, cautiously placing a hand against the thickest root that had woven around his chest.

"It's alright," she murmured quickly. "I'll…I'm going to get you out of here."

Cora worked the knife between the thinnest section of the root, sharp side up, and tried to saw the binding away.

Mathilde Leyweald

 

[Mathilde Leyweald]

Mathilde

Corazona acted quickly and decisively - as befit a true royal, some might say. It was when the Princess brought her hunting knife against the root that she would be made to realize just how difficult the ask of freeing one's self could be when ensnared. Still, her perseverance paid off, and before long, the footman was freed from his binding, the knife's small size and sharp edge making it a much better tool to do this than the sword sheathed at the man's side. And yet, even after he was freed from this bindings, the sleeping soldier merely used his newfound freedom to roll over in his sleep, as one would when searching for a more comfortable position. No acknowledgement of the Princess' words, nor presence, escaped the slumbering man-at-arms. Bliss remained etched on his features; perhaps he had no desire to awaken from this state he found himself in. Unlike the fitful, catatonic state the lone knight had been in under the care of Axilla's medical staff, the common footman seemed well and truly at peace.

THUMP!

While the Jedi busied herself with the sleeping bannerman, the roots wrapped 'round the necks of the four unfortunate men shifted, releasing their corpses onto the dirt below. Judging by the expression of frozen fear on their faces, their end had not been swift, nor painless. Whoever had done this had meant to leave them as a warning to others, yes... and they were keeping a watchful eye on the young lady intruding within the woods. Whoever (or whatever) this secret observer was, they were long gone by the time the Princess turned around, if she cared to do so.

"Seek the grove", mumbled the man-at-arms, his returning lucidity somewhat questionable, yet offering some manner of guidance from his contented state of half-dreams nonetheless. "Let her weave your dreams... and find a nice bed of moss to sleep on."

And with that, he seemed to have found a nice spot for him to lay his head down, falling back into a deep slumber.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora grit her teeth together tightly as she saws through the roots. Even if the knife was a decent tool for the job, it took several passes for her to be able to free the bindings.

The sleeping bannerman didn't seem bothered by all the activity, nor did his countenance change once he'd been released. Cora, on the other hand, gasped with exertion and tried to steady his body against the tree with her free hand.

THUMP!

The sudden sound caused her to jump, releasing her hold from the sleeping man. He merely murmured and rolled over, seemingly content in his stupor.

Even before she'd whipped around, Cora knew the heavy sound of bodies hitting the ground. It made her stomach drop. The knife was instinctively held out in front of her, pointed at the four corpses now splayed unceremoniously along the forest floor.

None of this was a coincidence. You're being watched. Steady your mind before you lose it.

Cora inhaled slowly though her nose. There was no one to be seen. An unseen enemy had a stark advantage against her.

"Seek the grove", mumbled the man-at-arms, his returning lucidity somewhat questionable, yet offering some manner of guidance from his contented state of half-dreams nonetheless. "Let her weave your dreams... and find a nice bed of moss to sleep on."

"The grove?"

Returning to the man's side, she tried in vain to wake him with a rough shake to his shoulder. "What is this grove? And who is 'she'?" The man only murmured, lost in his slumber. "You must awaken! It's not safe to stay here, nor to be in the state you're in."

Nothing. She couldn't carry him either.

Cora drew a map from her pocket, an archaic paper scroll with hand-drawn borders and markings. She traced along the southern boundary of the forest through which she'd entered, roughly figuring out where she should be.

A grove...I'm not seeing anything on the map about- oh? Oh.

The Jedi was struck by a memory. Her and Mathilde Leyweald , just girls, clambering through a thicket of flowers and moss, playing knights. She looked up from the map, around at the trees and then the topography of the land.

She knelt down to the bannerman and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Stay here and stay safe. I'll be back soon for you."

Closing her eyes, Cora concentrated on the Force, suffusing a signature of the Light side within the soldier's body. Hopefully, it might serve as a measure of protection.

 

[Mathilde Leyweald]

Mathilde

The woods of the dukedom were a fine place for two young girls to run around without the expectations of birthright hanging above them - but the grove itself had always more than merely a place of escapism. It was the tender dreamer's favorite spot in all of Ukatis, a place where she truly felt a connection to the world beyond... and where she would sometimes go stargazing in an effort to confront her fear of the void. Even now, Corazona might remember her childhood friend's distress when she first realized how small the both of them were in the face of the cosmos. How she sniffled and cried, terrified of the implications behind Ukatis' irrelevance in the grand scheme of things, to say nothing of her own life. Although such heart wrenching fits of panic and despair lessened in frequency with the years, the gentle and kind grovetender remained deathly afraid of the wider world, still... and with Corazona's departure to follow the thread of fate on Coruscant, she was left well and truly alone. Patient and well-intentioned as they were, neither of her parents could truly understand how to help her face this paralyzing fear, and, in time, they chose to keep her safe from its cause.

After all, she was their dearest child, treasured and cherished.

The path to the grove was entirely untouched; the rampant growth of vegetation seen elsewhere was all but absent, as if the presence responsible for the dukedom's ills had taken the decision to leave this specific place untouched... or if another power had stopped it from extending its influence in a place of tender memories and fleeting dreams that yet lived. As the stalwart Jedi of the Jedi Order rode along the stream leading towards the grove, a golden mist formed in the air, the sounds of the two girls playing knights yet echoed through the woods, visions of the future they once held dear forming in the air; there stood Corazona, a crown of Artois' blue flowers in her hair and an elegant wedding dress hugging her form, walked down the aisle by a noble and gallant knight... a vision that faded as soon as the blonde approached.

Further down the road, Mathilde stood as well, wrapped up in a cloak thrown over a dark gambeson, smiling proudly whilst holding a longbow. Another dream faded with the years, gone like dust in the wind.

At last, the Princess entered the grove proper... only to be met by a rather puzzling sight. There lie Mathilde, sleeping beneath the great oak tree they would choose as a meeting spot when the two of them were younger, surrounded by blooming flowers of all kinds and colors... and protected by nothing less than half a dozen knights and twoscore men-at-arms! A stalwart force to be sure, and yet... the roots wrapped around their armor made the interference of another power all too obvious. As did the sluggish nature of their motions as they turned to face the courageous knight, drawing swords and bows alike.

Incapable of charging her as they would otherwise have, the knights soon began to shamble towards her, closely accompanied by the lowborn sword-and-shield infantry- even as the archers remained by Mathilde's sleeping form, nocking their arrows with great effort.

Behind Corazona, a wall of thicket rapidly formed, blocking her escape.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora continued on her silent journey, memories of the grove setting in. Pleasant ones, of two girls clambering through the brush, playing knights. Somber ones that were somehow strangely pleasant, of Mathilde's concern swallowing her whole.

Cora never delighted in her friend's worries - she'd always tried her best to comfort Mathilde Leyweald through those episodes - but distance tinted those rose-colored memories. Times had been so much simpler then.

As she came upon the grove, Cora was relieved to find it untouched. And yet that relief squirmed in her stomach, discontent. Why had this place been spared? It didn't sit right with her.

Yet, it seemed that she'd slipped back into memories of scampering through the forest, stick in hand, chasing her friend without a care in the world. Their laughter, so familiar yet foreign, seemed so real-

Cora tugged the reins of her horse, bringing the mount to an abrupt halt. The girlish laughter faded away into the golden mist, into the vision of a young woman bedecked for her wedding day. Blue flowers twined in her hair, a white dress draped over her body. Smiling dreamily on the arm of a faceless man. It was…

…herself?

A Corazona who had never left home to become a Jedi. A woman who'd never joined the Alliance, who'd remained on her homeworld to be married to a loving husband with whom she could build a family. The pinnacle of a Ukatian woman's achievements.

She nudged the horse into a slow walk, but the vision dispersed quickly. They trotted along the same winding path, slowing when another figure appeared from the mist. Mathilde, holding a longbow and garbed in dark clothing, no longer sniffling and crying. She was proud and strong.

Mathilde too, vanished.

At last the grove came into view, and with it a startling sight.

A veritable army, twisted up in roots, turned to face the newcomer. At their center lay Mathilde, comatose yet seemingly unharmed at the base of the great tree they'd often taken shelter beneath. A swath of multicolored flowers bloomed around her, spreading beneath the feet of the knights who'd begun moving slowly to intercept the Jedi.

The loud rustle of vegetation drew up a wall of thick vines behind her, sealing off the way she'd come.

"Please," She called out, stalwart voice carried by the Force. "I've not come with harmful intent. I am Corazona von Ascania, a friend of Mathilde Leyweald."

Holding out a hand as if to halt their advance, Cora's gaze drifted back to Mathilde. Sleeping, peaceful - but who knew what magic was done to her? Could it be reversed? She swallowed down the dread that welled in her throat.

"I wish not for violence. Please, sheathe your weapons."

Should they not, the Force would surge outward, seizing their bodies with paralytic intent.

 

[Mathilde Leyweald]

Mathilde

There was a pause, then, as Corazona called out to the knights and men-at-arms gathered before her. Some recognition must have washed over them, the familiarity of her voice striking a chord within their hearts; the oldest among them had known her when she was but a girl, after all. The moment passed, however, with the blare of a war horn, prompting the warriors of green and white to advance once more. Shields were readied, arrows nocked... and then, the warriors of Artois were rendered all but helpless by powers beyond their comprehension - the might of a knight of the Jedi Order!

"All they ever wanted was one last battle", remarked a voice behind the princess... a voice that belonged to none other than Victoria, the secretive lady of Artois, whose ability to navigate the treacherous waters of courtly politics seemed almost uncanny, given her shrouded origins and the reputation of her husband and daughter alike marking the name Leyweald as that of reclusive nobles at best. Slowly, calmly, the noblewoman brought the war horn back to her belt, her every motion speaking volumes of her charm and countenance alike.

"Ukatians", she drawled, all but rolling her eyes. "I remember when this land was young, and your kind lived in small villages, afraid of what lie beyond the light of your torches at night. When you feared the land, and gave offerings to it."

There was but a snap of her fingers, then, and the roots wrapped around the ensorcelled warriors began to shift, wrapping more firmly... until they managed to force the men underneath to move. They remained paralyzed, of course - but the vines and roots shifted their bodies this way and that, moving them about like puppets.

"My Bohemond made me hope for something more - that perhaps, your kind could know restraint. But I see now it was all just a dream. Your kind takes and takes and takes until it finally kills you, and then, someone else comes along to replace you. Today, I break this cycle. This land will be plunged in a deep, pleasant slumber... and there is nothing you can do to stop me. There will be peace and quiet at last, and my daughter will be safe."

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The vine- ensnared warriors hesitated at the sound of her voice - or perhaps at the stilling effects of Force stun - and a measure of hope washed through Cora.

The sounding of a war horn had her turning on her heel, at first partially to keep the soldiers in her sights, as well as…

"…Lady Leyweald?"

Shock overtook her, leaving Cora to gawk at the noblewoman for several long seconds. How could…and she…how?….why?

Victoria had always been kind to her as a child. It wasn't until Corazona began growing up, participating in more and more courtly duties, did she understand that the Duchess of Artois was an oddity among the Ukatian aristocracy. It never lessened her admiration of Mathilde's mother, but she could see how Victoria's clever, and at times standoffish ways, could rub haughty nobles the wrong way.

Enchanted foliage wound around the trapped knights with greater fervor, and they shambled forth under the control of their mistress.

"Please," Cora turned to Victoria in genuine concern. Had a specific event triggered this, or had her resentment been slowly building all these years? "Tell me what happened. I'll try to make it right, and I'm sorry that you've been pushed this far-"

This far indeed. It occurred to Cora that in this moment, she had no idea just who or what Victoria was, but the context clues she'd given were unsettling. There were legends, of course - of spirits who inhabited Ukatis' natural terrain, but most chalked them up to colorful yarns spun to both entertain and impart caution unto unruly children.

This didn't…was she….had she been pushed…

"This far in order to protect your family. I know that you only want the best for Mathilde, as do I."

Mathilde Leyweald

 

[Mathilde Leyweald]

Victoria

Victory Leyweald had never been an imperious woman. Her gaze never carried the weight of authority employed by other nobles, choosing instead to present a certain spark of mischief or playfulness, putting friends and family at ease - and goading rivals into overplaying their hand.

Those twin pools of emerald carried a weight they never had before, the intensity of her gaze almost impossible for most to behold. There, before the Princess of Ukatis, stood a being beyond the scope of the Light, beyond the reach of the Dark; someone who simply was, her existence just as steadfast as the natural order. Whatever she was, the entity was truly ancient; perhaps more so than the very bloodline Corazona was descended from. Even as the knights kept on approaching, the figure remained silent, her gaze piercing through the Jedi's soul, staring a hole right through her. Just as her patience had seemed boundless in the past, her anger ran oh-so deep indeed...

The roots and foliage wrapped around the knight ceased their forceful motions as they draw within a sword's length of the blonde, the puppeteer dreamers left immobile as Victoria's gaze softened. Just as she was far, far more than merely the Duchess of Artois, Lady Leyweald's earthly attachments had never been a mask. Slowly, her steps brought her closer to the young woman, grief etched over her features as her voice rose once more, echoing with a power beyond imagining.

"I read stories to you both, once", spoke the Duchess in a whisper, each syllable dancing in the air and across the woods, a mournful note which spoke of her unfathomable grief. "I watched you run around these woods, without a care in the world. I watched you both bloom. And then, I watched you wilt. I watched as you were taken away, far from the embrace of the forest and into a garden with only cruel caretakers. They took, and they kept on taking. For every man like sweet, gentle Bohemond, who won my heart through the beauty of his heart- there are a dozen like your tormentor."

Anger flashed across her features, then - a terrifying sight to behold, and not only because of those green veins spreading from her eyes and all across her face, betraying what she truly was. The binding wrapped ever-tighter around the knights and soldiers, threatening to strangle them as she experienced a soul-deep wrath that threatened to engulf the entire glade-

Another golden vision claimed her attention, her head slowly turning to face it, the slightest hint of confusion betraying her lack of control over the entire situation in the Dukedom.

After all, Mathilde had ever-been a dreamweaver, where she was not.

This time, the vision presented no idyllic dream of the past, but a proud truth; the sight of the Princess of Ukatis, clad in the battle-robes of a Jedi as she fought against a shrouded figure, lightsaber clashing against lightsaber, a chivalric ideal come to life. Fierce, and resolute; more than merely a precious thing shattered by the callous designs of men and the hand of a sadist. Someone who had faced terror and misery, and emerged as a phoenix born from its ashes, radiant and strong. Undeterred.

"I cannot let the same happen to my child", continued the creature, turning her gaze from the golden vision to the Jedi before her, even as more and more such scenes began to unfold around them; events the tender dreamweaver had never been made aware of, from her dearest friend's stand against her father during the Mandalorian invasion to the more recent scene of her knighting by the hands of the Grandmaster of her Order. More or less than human she may be, there was simply no mistaking the worry and care of a mother behind the acts of the woman who faced the Princess.

"Why should I rouse her from this slumber? Why should anyone? She knows far more peace now than she ever could in the waking world."

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The encroaching knights grew closer still, and Cora was almost forced into a position where she would have to truly defend herself - so much that she drew her lightsaber hilt, but hesitated to activate the plasma blade.

Victoria's gaze softened and the great roots came to a rest.

Cora too, recalled those early days. She and Mathilde Leyweald had been so free of worries, only concerned with trivial matters that children often felt. Whether or not their favorite meal would be on the dinner table that night, bemoaning when the sun dipped beyond the horizon and they'd have to stop playing and return home.

For a few long moments, Cora joined Victoria in her somber grief.

The mention of her wilting under her tormenter had Cora looking away, for the first time. She swallowed, heavily, around the tightness of her throat.

The heaviness of Victoria's anger brought her attention quickly back to the Lady of the Forest before she'd even spoken bitter words. Her anger went beyond anything mortal. It was an ancient, transcendent anger. Something that had roiled slowly over millenia, a longer span of time than Cora herself could comprehend.

She reached out, suddenly desperate, when the puppeteer strings that had once controlled the knights began to strangle them.

Another vision appeared, and Cora could not yet tell that it had not been wrought by Victoria herself. It was Cora as she was now - or maybe, how she wanted to be seen. A valiant Jedi Knight, a defender, fighting back against those who wanted to take.

The Princess of Ukatis inhaled slowly, drew deep the forest air into her lungs. She lifted her head, squared her shoulders and met Victoria head-on. Her expression was not one of anger or even wariness; but one of understanding. The sort of understanding wrought by pain.

"You're…right. Here, she is safe."

Cora looked back to Mathilde, to her gentle, delicate form as she slumbered among the flowers. She smiled, faintly, then turned back to the creature.

"You care deeply for Mathilde, as you should. You're her mother, and what mother wouldn't see a world burn to protect her child?"

Idly, Cora thought of her own mother. A shadow that wandered her wing of the Aacania manor with silent steps, a husk of a woman with a grim demeanor and dark rings around her eyes that never seemed to fade no matter how long she slept. They'd never been close. They'd barely known eachother.

That didn't mean that Cora had no reference for maternal love. Not with someone like Valery Noble in her life, who'd been more of a mother than the one who'd birthed her.

She looked to Victoria.

"The worst thing that my father ever did to me was depriving me the freedom of choice."

When Cora spoke about her father, it was often in hushed whispers as her tone nearly wavered into tears. Now, there was steel in her voice, without being devoid of emotion. It had been a long, winding path, and she'd taken many backtracking steps long the way. There was still further to travel, much further, she hoped.

"I know that you only want to keep Mathilde safe from the galaxy's ills, but she deserves to choose that for herself. If she wants to remain in this slumber for eternity, then…"

Cora looked over her shoulder, and smiled sadly.

"Then I'll come and sit beside her, and share with her all the memories we have together."

Refocusing on Victoria, Cora took a step forward as she looked into ancient, unfathomable eyes.

"To have your decisions made for you… is one of the most suffocating things that could happen to a person. Neither of us want her to suffer, I only know that much."

 

[Mathilde Leyweald]

Victoria

Of all the things Victoria expected to hear from the Princess in response to her words... acceptance was not one of them. There was some measure of pride to be taken there, in the ability to surprise a being older than the very foundations of Ukatian society, giving pause to something a superstitious peasant might call a deity. In the end, the lady of the woods was not as unknowable as she should have been. What manner of man must Bohemond have been, to have brought such humanity to the personification of his homeland?

The Jedi's words left the glade silent. No birds chirped, no leaves rustled, and no wind blew. It was as if the very natural order was interrupted, left to ponder the choice that now lie ahead of the forest's guardian. That unnatural silence stretched on, those twin pools of emerald drawing the blonde further in, and yet-

Sound returned to the clearing, and the roots wrapped around knights and foot soldiers alike receding enough to allow them to breathe once more. Victoria, for her part, finally averted her gaze. Her steps were slow, and measured; each one brought her closer and closer to her dearest daughter, until she finally knelt down by her side, contemplating the choice before her. Oh, she had been so sure of herself, of the peace she would bring to Artois and its people, but now... now, there was doubt. Birds were never meant to be caged, their song all the more beautiful when they remained free; the same could be said of Mathilde. It was not her mother's decision to make, noble though her goal may be.

Before Corazona's eyes, the woman form shifted and changed; it wasn't long before her true form was revealed at last, that of a being of bark and leaves, ancient beyond belief - a tall tale brought to life! And yet, oh-so full of melancholy, now that her wrath was given a chance to recede.

"Ukatis is changing", spoke the lady of the woods softly, yet dangerously, her every word a reminder of the simple truth that she was, in essence, the land made manifest. "... it has been many moons, since I last tied the fate of the very lands to the will of a mortal. Kind, valorous Bohemond made good on his promise, and so can you."

Mathilde stirred, then, as one would after a particularly deep sleep.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Utter silence was truly unsettling. No birds sang, not even the wind rustled the trees or grasses. Cora held her breath, held her body in stillness, afraid to make a sound.

Victoria held her gaze with eyes that were both unfathomable and ancient. What had she seen, in all her years? Power struggles that took several lifetimes were hardly a blip on her radar. She was as old as Ukatis itself, born from the same soil and seeds.

The melody of life returned, and the snare of vines retreated from the captured warriors enough for them to breathe freely again.

Cora too let out a breath, one she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

As Victoria paced to where Mathilde lay at the great roots, her features shifted. Smooth skin became rigid and grooved, a shade of greed as verdant as their surroundings. The sight sent chills down Cora's spine, having laid eyes on a creature that only lived in Ukatian folklore until now.

She reminded her of Madrona A’Mia , the Neti woman she'd faced on Thule.

Ukatis is changing.

Bohemond made good on his promise, and so can you.

Another shiver ran through Cora. Again, she felt the weight of expectation bear down on her.

Mathilde Leyweald stirred, and Cora approached. Slowly - still wary of Victoria's motherly protectiveness - but there was a restrained energy to her movement.

"Mathilde," she called softly. "Are you alright?"