Private The Prince Stole the Stars From Her Eyes

[Makko Vyres]

FLEET

Makko had never been one for space travel. It was never quite still. The engines of the Alliance capital ship were firing, taking them to a new heading. The noose reverberated through the entire vessel, through every bulkhead and corridor. Through to the room Cora had been assigned.


If he had been somewhere still, maybe it would have been easier to still his mind. After Ukatis, the Alliance fleet had regrouped. Cora and several key members of Ukatis leadership had come with them. They were regrouping.

Valery Noble's words had helped prepare him for war. They had not prepared him for this.

They had both removed the outer layers of their armour, sith and alliance. Now they sat side by side on the edge of a bed in combat underlayers. They turned their shoulders to face one another, even if they didn't hold one another's gaze as they should have done.

He didn't want to start by asking for the full explanation. But he did want to start the conversation.

"I'm glad you're safe," he said, letting out a sigh of relief. A slight hint of a smile. "Glad you told him to fuck off."

That was not exactly how she had done it, but it seemed a close enough description of the moment he had witnessed.

"I missed you."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora kept her gaze averted. To the floor, the door, the wall – anywhere that wasn't Makko. Relief and guilt lived within her, and as soon as she breathed one in, she was exhaling the other.

"Yeah," She said softly. Weakly. What else could she say? He'd be furious, if she was lucky. Makko would have questions, as would Valery and Khalil. It was only natural that they'd want to know. She'd been captured on Thule, disappeared into an unknown fate, the Jedi forced to retreat.

"I'm glad I was able to make it to Ukatis. Even if-"

Her eyes had drifted towards him, but Cora caught herself and looked away. Instead of continuing, she chewed at the inside of her cheek.

"It wasn't that bad. Thule, I mean." Unable to find purchase on the form fitting body-suit, her fingers grasped at the blanket below. She pinched the rough, standard-issue fabric between her fingers for a few quiet moments. "For me, at least."

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

"I was…"

Makko started to say the words, but stopped himself. He liked to think that he occupied a special place in Cora's thoughts, but this wasn't just about him. There were many others who cared deeply for Cora.

"We were worried. You were left behind…some of the other Jedi captured…"

Makko gave a shake of his head that said what he chose not to.

"I knew you were alive," he said, offering a tentative smile. He was confused, trying not to fill in the gaps with conjecture.

"I could feel the bond, our bond, still connected. But I couldn't…get through the darkness."

In spite of everything, relief would wash over her through the bond. She was alive and unharmed.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora grimaced.

Each word was like a stone, stacked onto her back, weighing her down with guilt. He’d been worried – the Jedi had been worried – of course. She was not the only one who’d been taken on Thule; Shan had been held captive as well, along with several others who’d either willingly embraced the Dark or were left as shrivelled husks, their very spirit syphoned from them by the mind-eater.

Instead, Cora found herself in the arms of the Sith Lord who’d terraformed Thule. It hadn’t been their first meeting. It was easy to make herself yielding and obedient to Nwul, especially with the patience and affection he’d shown her.

She’d been lucky, very lucky.

Cora ground her teeth hard. Her jaw ached deeply. She’d pushed Makko from her mind then, embracing the shadow of a man who could make her strong. There were a lot of feelings there.

“If you knew what I did while I was there…”

Her words were tight, forced even. The mention of their bond, frayed and strained as it was, had caused her to bristle.

“…you’d never want to speak with me again.”

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

Makko looked at her. He truly looked at her. Not a passing glance to make eye contact. He turned and studied her expression, her posture. He felt her writhe internally as she tried to escape the weight of something.

Cora had arrived on Ukatis wearing the insignia of the Sith. She had survived where others had not.

His eyes widened a little. He placed his hands together on his lap and squeezed one inside the other.

He knew there was a difference between the momentary ideals one could balance in their heads, versus the truths we knew in our hearts.

She wouldn't have turned against them. She wouldn't have become a soldier of the Sith Empire. She wouldn't have hurt the other Jedi or turned on her friends. That he knew was true, but any other notions faded away.

He braced himself. For either the truth or the knowledge that Cora couldn't trust him with this. That they had grown so far apart that she could not tell him. That truth he held dear would not allow him to see a possibility that she had done something so vile she could never tell a soul.

"I dunno," he said. "I'm glad you're alive."

He took a stuttered breath.

"What did you do?" he asked, his thoughts clouded with fear.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

I’m glad you’re alive.

Her jaw clenched tighter, aching. It was impossible to ignore the tension in the room, the tension from him.

Cora rose suddenly and exhaled sharply through her nose. Pacing in front of him, her steps lacked the usual grace and evenness of a Princess. Her movements were stiff and aggressive, agitation etched into every muscle. Anger was easier for her to work with than sorrow.

Nwul would’ve known what to do, how to guide her. Cora wouldn’t deny that now, in the aftermath of Ukatis, on the verge of hurting someone she’d once given her heart to, she would’ve given anything for his steady hand and sage advice.

For a moment, she convinced herself that maybe Makko wouldn’t care. They weren’t together anymore, right? One glance in his direction had that thought dissipating.

Coming to a halt in front of Makko, Cora regarded him with wide, blazing eyes. The words felt like hot iron on her mouth, the same hard cadence as when she spoke to her father.

“I kept warm the bed of a Sith Lord.”

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

Makko opened his mouth to say something, but no words formed. This was a body shot. The kind that leaves you gasping, unable to think or breathe. He vacillated between extremes, left unable to even settle or process one feeling before moving on to the next.

He felt rejected, he felt physically sick, he felt fear for her safety, he felt ashamed that he couldn't have stopped her walking from under the shadow of one powerful man to another.

His head hung forwards, his chin on his chest. Black and blue streaks covered his eyes, hiding him from her gaze.

Cora would feel a fraction of each down the bond. Makko had learned how to manipulate that link between them. Not one link, but threads that had been woven through them with each shared experience. He could have dumped all of his strength into those bonds and shattered them in an instant. He felt guilt for even thinking that. For thinking of walking away and leaving her behind.

"Shit."

One word didn't even start to cover the situation at hand. He wouldn't be a coward.

Makko leaned his head back, bringing one hand up to sweep the hair from his eyes so he could look up at her. His fingers were trembling. He unclenched his hands.

There had been times when he waffled on and said almost nothing at all and there were times when he said very little but captured a full weight of meaning.

He had promised to be there for her. Before and after the marriage. It was not something he would abandon, no matter what form that promise took. Makko tried to swallow the knot in his throat.

They had tried and failed to recapture some intimacy. Makko had reached out to her through the Force in her darkest moments - when she had been reeling from a physical strike from Horace - and told her to hold him. Her trauma, her guilt and shame had been a barrier between them and he had offered her space and support.

Makko never would have imagined she would have done this with it. He had to force down the anger that tried to percolate up and taint his thoughts.

Lean on me, he had told her. In that moment she had only reached back in desperation. For Makko it had been like holding a white hot brand in his bare hands just to ease her pain a little. It might have been stupid, but he would cast himself into the fire for her again and again.

He let out a soft sigh. He lifted one arm towards her.

She had been frightened that he wouldn't want to speak to her again. Cora had not quite been wrong. It was hard to stay seated. It was hard not to walk away in silence.

The pain was clear in his eyes as he looked up at her. He asked her something. It was deeply unfair, but he asked it.

"Sit down? Can I…can I lean on you this time?," he asked. It came with no caveats attached. Just a moment of comfort at the worst of times.

"Why?" he asked. "To survive? Are you going back to him?"

That one hurt the most. He hadn't been there when she had been imprisoned on Ukatis. This Sith Lord was there when she had been held on Thule.

"Tell me whatever you want to. I'm going…to need some time."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora never truly knew what a deafening silence was. The kind where blood roared in your ears so loudly that it blotted out everything around you. When Makko spoke, he shattered the quiet with one word. One word that carried a churning ocean of his pain.

Instead of closing herself off, instead of shrinking back, Cora let herself feel whatever he wanted to give. She embraced his rejection, his fear, his stomach-curdling misery. Shame and guilt swarmed her, but she accepted that too, wearing it like a brand on her soul.

Bile burned the back of her throat when he looked up at her, inspiring a slew of bittersweet memories where he’d been there for her in dark places. When he’d first seen the bruises on her back, when he’d held her as she confessed her fears about her fiancé. Even after, when they’d sat together in the back of a freighter leaving Denon, spice loosening their grasp on lucidity.

Cora swallowed thickly when Makko lifted an arm towards her. She was expecting him to leave, to order her away, maybe, maybe even lash out at her.

What he asked had surprised her. That much would be evident on her face before Cora nodded distantly, rigidly seating herself beside him. She’d of thought that Makko wouldn’t have wanted to be around her at all, but the realization struck that even now, he must have taken some measure of comfort in her.

To survive?

“...Somewhat.”

It was a cold, clinical response. Despite her feelings and his kind nature towards her, there’d been a stark power imbalance between herself and Nwul – and an underlaying fear of what would happen if she failed to pacify him.

“I…don’t know if I can go back.”

Objectively, it would be difficult. They were on an Alliance ship. The NJO certainly wouldn’t let her go back to Thule. Cora wasn’t sure if that was what she wanted.

“I first met him on Ukatis, after Horace and I had a bad fight. He was kind to me, and helped me sort through my feelings. I took solace in him.” She paused, for a moment feeling as though she were back on that cliff, staring into the stormy waters below. “He was kind to me once more after I was captured on Thule. I was treated more as a guest than a prisoner. I suppose, after a while, I wasn’t really a prisoner at all…”

Her voice faded, nearly cracking. It was immensely strange to be confronted with the feelings she still had for Makko, amidst the feelings she’d developed for Nwul.

“I had visions of the war on Ukatis. He agreed that I should go and defend my people.”

Cora glanced to the side. Her own words sounded terribly inadequate, perhaps even insulting, in her head.

“I’m sorry, Makko. I…didn’t do it to hurt you.”

Of course, rarely did intent matter.

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

"Ukatis…" Makko said.

A slow, stuttered sigh. Makko leaned on her. He tilted his head until his cheek rested on her shoulder.

"I know you didn't," he said, but it did. It hurt a lot. A hot needle through the gut.

He tried to hold it in check but could not stop his imagination from wandering. Makko had almost been broken knowing that he couldn't stop Horace claiming her as his wife. He'd offered comfort through video calls during days when she needed a friendly face, no matter how much it had hurt. All that pain he had soaked up.

He pictured Cora now kissing the Sith Lord who had saved her on Thule. In his mind's eye, she smiled as she embraced the faceless figure.

Makko felt a hot wave of nausea. He didn't have a panic attack, but some of the symptoms were there. His breathing quickened, a hot, uncomfortable flush spread across his skin.

Perhaps, he thought to himself, that her upbringing and the future Marcel had mapped out for her had played a part. Even up to the wedding, he knew Cora had shaped fantasies of being a princess loved by her people and adored by her husband.

When fantasy had met the real nightmare, Makko had been there. Maybe here, this man had treated her like a princess and offered her a glimpse of that fantasy she had held so dear. There had been no need of Makko then.

"I wish I could have…" he started to say, but he stopped himself from saying something that would hurt them both. He could never offer that life. He was a stupid boy who stole her pudding and kept her calm when the thunder rolled in.

He felt small, he felt inadequate, he felt unloved. A hot tear welled up and rolled down his cheek.

"He saved you. He was kind. There's…there's…that."

It didn't sound like a good thing, the way he forced out the last word. It pained him to feel even a mote of gratefulness for this sith.

"Don't."

His voice was soft. Barely audible.

"Even if…not for me. Don't. Don't go. Stay."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

His cheek resting on her shoulder inspired butterflies to squirm unpleasantly in her stomach. Cora chanced wrapping an arm gingerly over his shoulder, a once-familiar gesture that now felt obscenely awkward.

She desperately wanted to know what was going through his mind. Her own thoughts were churning a mile a minute.

For a moment, when she stared into the distance, she could see the halls of the palace on Thule, glittering with red and gold banners. She’d been free to do nearly whatever she’d pleased, within reason. In the wake of the ritual, Cora’s days had been filled with gardening, meditation, and studies. She had her own quarters, been clothed in silks, sat at the same table as the Sith Lord. It was easy to be at Nwul’s side.

There had been something missing, though.

Her brow creased as Makko tried to find some small, shattered reasoning. Something to be thankful for.

She glanced to him, feeling the tear that rolled down his face as if it were cutting a hot path along her own cheek. Idly, she brushed a finger against the near-horizontal scar on her cheek, given to her by Darth Carnifex. The Dark Lord had targeted her during his duel with Nwul, identifying her as an attachment to be exploited. A Jedi to be exterminated.

“It was not without…challenges.”

She’d dodged a deadly blow, but only by calling on the dark.

Don’t.

Cora inhaled slowly, held that breath, then exhaled.

“I’m not sure if they’d let me stay, Makko.”

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

"They will," he said plainly.

He nodded slowly. It rubbed the warm tear into the underlayer of her armour. Makko knew what he wanted to say, but it took time to find the air to breathe, let alone form words.

"People here…they…they love you Cora. Valery and Kahlil and Colette and…"

He pursed his lips, unable to speak the other names that came to mind. This was more important than his own pain.

There was always something more important than him. Her duty to home, her need for affection from someone else, and now she needed to heal and find herself.

In spite of it all, he smiled with pride as he pictured her father's shocked expression.

Challenges? What could have been so challenging about being doted on.

Makko was swinging back and forth. He placed a hand on her knee and immersed himself in the familiarity of this. He missed the days when getting caught by Valery's daughter was their worst fear.

"You will stay and I will be here," he murmured. "This hurts. But I will be."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Reminded of those who cared for her, who she'd left behind, Cora bit the inside of her lip until she could taste tinges of copper.

In the wake of how she'd stood up to her father, in the wake of the ruins of Ukatis, she suddenly felt utterly stupid and foolish. Her path had been linear until it started to zig and zag. Pieces of Cora had fallen away, leaving her as someone she no longer recognized.

As much as she regretted hurting Makko, Cora could not bring herself to entirely regret her actions. When Makko had left for Denon, Nwul was there to soothe the despair in her soul left by Horace.

You will stay and I will be here,

"You-"

She stopped short, realizing that he wasn't telling her what to do. Idly, her hand drew light, soothing circles against his shoulder.

"I won't blame you if you decide to walk away from…all this. Even if you hate me-"

Cora's lips twitched, raising slightly in a ghost of a distant smile.

"I can take it."

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

"I don't," Makko said.

Those words came easily. The pain was very real. They had given one another space, but he had always hoped that they would rekindle some of what they had been. It hurt that he had been worried for her life whilst she found solace in another man.

He couldn't hate her for that.

She was alive, she was safe. She had finally stood up to her father and he had been lucky to witness it.

A silent sob moved him against her shoulder. Makko wrangled with his own feelings. Some were fair, others were not.

He leaned on her and soaked up the gentle, physical affection. This time it must have hurt her to be the one offering it.

Makko didn't know how much time passed before he sighed loudly and sat upright. He rubbed his eyes, puffy and red. He swept back his curls, wet from his tears.

"I'll be just next door if you need me at all. I'm hardly going to walk away when we're finally even," he said. Something between a laugh and a sob should his shoulders.

"We'll be alright," he said, more hopeful than he was certain. He had never stopped loving her. He didn't know what form she needed that to take, but the moment to walk away had been and passed before the wedding.

"Try and get some rest," he said, knowing he would not. "You know the only spare clothes they've got are navy overalls," he added as a parting shot.

"Good night Cora."