In the shadows of the alcove, Vyra Silara stared at the datapad in her hands, at the single line of words scrolled across the screen, the blue-green light illuminating the shock on her face.
‘See you at your wedding. That's what Family is for, right? -E.’ She read it twice, three times, barely breathing. Family. E. How? Who! Most were dead. Some were already here. But few would sign it with E. Alarm spiked through her. Raan Jade’s middle name started with E, but it couldn’t be, he
wouldn’t, not ever, no, but... he
could be that spiteful, that vindictive, he
would, she was sure of it. But why sign with an E? Why not an R or a J? It had to be him, he was toying with her.
And if it wasn’t, there was only one other. But Vyra dared not trust a hope. Not today.
Isn’t hope your thing, though? Vibrant cobalt eyes pierced her vision, flashing across her mind in rapid bursts, the disembodied voice of her old Jedi friend at his condescending worst ripping through the thick mental veil she kept over that particular corner of her consciousness. He wavered, like a bad connection.
What’s that phrase you used to lean on so hard…
Eyes closed, she removed her mask and massaged her forehead, frowning. Once the phenomena had been upsetting, only rarely occurring. Now, it was just a vexing part of her daily life. Vyra found the more she spoke back to Caoimhin Shan’s Echo, the stronger it grew, so she let him talk, tracing the words on her screen with her eyes as if that would somehow reveal its secrets.
Oh, right, uh… ‘There’s always hope’, Cao snarked, mimicking her voice, but it was entirely too light and naive, like a girl who’d never had to struggle to find everything she needed. Surely she’d never sounded quite like that…had she?
Always hope, but not anymore, is there? Not for you. You gave that up when you gave into HIM. Kainan flashed through her mind, every dark deed she’d witnessed, every smoking, mangled corpse he left in his wake.
Vyra
refused to wince at it.
When you let that monster convince you Elenthaeus was safe, that Cattamascar was safe from him! A cold, righteous anger warbled through the Echo, vibrating over her mind. It sounded like him, so like him, and yet not at all.
You just LET him manipulate you! You rolled over. Admit it. You rolled over and let these fanatics in because you were weak. The only time in your life you ever had a spine was when I gave you one. You were better off as Vao—
“Your Highness?” Savani’s gentle, familiar voice broke through the assault. The handmaiden stood close, and though Vyra couldn’t see her concern beneath the hood of her cream colored robes, she could hear it in her voice.
“Are you alright?”
A sharp snap in her mind, like someone had turned off a glaring light, and the Echo was gone. Relief washed over her. Vyra offered Savani a quick, tight smile and a short nod of confirmation, though her bodyguard knew her too well to believe it.
“Has anyone else seen this?” she asked quietly, gesturing to the message.
Savani shook her head, eyes darting to the doorway they hovered in and the wedding reception beyond. She was tense, on edge, even with the impossible layers of security.
“Only
Eirene
, we still monitor your old holomail address from time to time. She found it earlier but there was no time to tell you before the ceremony.” From under the hem of her hood, she peered at her Queen…at her Empress, searching her expression for answers as Vyra stared almost possessed-like at the message.
“What does it mean?”
“I don’t know yet,” Vyra breathed, slender fingers hesitating over the deletion icon. The artificial light caught the gemstone in her wedding ring, sending tiny shards of color across her face.
“Probably nothing good. But we’ll find out tonight,” she finished, tapping the icon to erase the message. Words like that would raise questions should the Empire ever find them, whether they were genuine or not. Handing Savani the datapad, Vyra glanced around the corner at the reception hall, scanning the dais where she’d stood with her new husband minutes ago as he’d addressed the room with words of sacrifice and remembrance, as she’d offered words of hope and progress.
“We should return before we’re missed. Thank you for bringing this to me,” she said over her shoulder at Savani as the cloaked woman bent to double check the bride’s gown was pinned correctly at the hem. In spite of the dim light in the alcove, the tiny diamonds hand-sewn across the pearly white fabric flashed with their own light as she once again secured the sheer cape that fluttered from her shoulders.
It wouldn’t do for the Empress to fall on her face in the middle of a dance..at her own wedding.
A subtle nod from Savani, a calming deep breath and a silent prayer for silence in her mind, and Vyra placed her mask back on and
emerged from the shadows once more into the glow of the celebration, her handmaiden trailing behind her.
The walk across the floor to the raised dais was excruciatingly long. All she wanted to do was climb on top of the tables set out for her and her wedding party and search the gathered guests for the few friends (and Family, apparently) she’d allowed herself to invite. But she kept her eyes forward, gliding across the marble floor like a swan, taking each step up slowly. She was in no hurry. There would be time soon to mingle, as was customary on Naboo and Elenthaeus for the bride and groom to walk the floors and thank each guest for coming.
Their table was laden with food and drink already, each grand chair draped in the colors of those seated. She arrived at hers, in the middle next to Kainan, the Eternal colors marking each seat. Her small host of Wolfguards stood behind both of them, though Vyra’s request to give them all seats of honor had been rejected. They’d saved her life on Relovian, traveled with her across the galaxy, always been there by her side. They were every bit as important to her as her beloved handmaidens.
To their right, a space prepared for the Emperor’s Right Hand Ingrid L’lerim and her husband, and one for Captain Khorde Drago and his wife. To their left, a chair for Triken Stalfoun, Hero of Cattamascar and trusted advisor of Vyra, and one for Kama’rei Sulfirin, noble representative of Elenthaeus and the woman responsible for putting Vyra on the throne.
Vyra took her seat quietly, allowing herself to look out at the gathering only after meeting Kainan’s unnatural gold gaze with a reassuring smile, his eyes even eerier from the depths of his mask.
The room itself was stunning, its guests equally so.
From the ceiling hung hundreds of glittering icicles, slowly melting away to reveal thick roped of flowers and greenery, their dewy blossoms filling the air with sweetness, though it was not overpowering. Each drop of water that trickled from the icicles fell only a few inches before it was lifted back up, some to adhere once more to the suspended ice, others to hover like stars in the air high above.
Across the floor, the theme continued. Sculpted ice and floral pieces decorated each table, some beautifully delicate, others full of colored patterns. One such sculpture contained a single glowing amethyst and fuchsia flower from Naboo, deadly to the touch. The softest of petals had been scattered down every length of the silver carpet runner that marked the pathways between tables, dance floors and towers of food.
Sweet and savory finger food offerings from Naboo, Kalidan, Elenthaeus and Cattamascar lined their own tables, with plenty of the ‘usual stuff’ from the Core.
The cheese cubes had been dyed pink and dusted with the finest edible glitter on Vyra’s orders, though the chef was given no explanation as to why. In the middle of the area stood a fountain, gushing six types of wine with various other mixed drinks scattered about its tiers, and for the less…alcoholically inclined, a few paces away rested a full service tea station serving both hot and cold next to a machine that only brewed the finest coffee.
The orchestra, though hidden from sight, was under strict orders to play
only the finest Eternal Empire-approved music, and they obeyed with no qualms, though there were recorded pieces to be played over speakers when they needed a break.
Each table for the guests had been arranged with care, some like Lord Mythos were smaller and more private, and others were larger and more communal, but all had been fixed with personal touches.
A cigar holder and tray for
Mythos and the finest china teacup for his mysterious guest, a tiny neon pink crystal unicorn on the plate of
Scherezade deWinter and her guest, a single blue dragon scale made of spun sugar the size of Vyra’s hand at the place reserved for
Aaran Tafo and a cream and red one for
Vidalu Na’an and her companion
Adelle Bastiel.
The
Vran’Ti Vo Ni Nexus Krae and the
Queen Neferisa had been seated near each other, a small silver scroll on Krae’s plate that, when opened with his specific touch, contained extensive copies of portions of the Empire’s vast research into genetics and bio experimentation, and a tiny Anubian pendant preserved in amber on Queen Neferisa’s plate that’d been rescued from a digsite.
Taozi would find a most delicate choker cord of white leather featuring a little pink silk charm.
Darth Prazitus was an enigma for Vyra, but with a brilliant suggestion from Kainan, she’d had a rare steak cut, prepared and seared in the shape of the Silver Jedi Order’s territory cloud on the galaxy map, included a thick, blood red sauce in a tiny steel cup, and stabbed a set of sharp cutlery emblazoned with the Sith Empire’s emblem right through the meat.
Vyra lingered in her chair, listening to the introductions, toasting when acknowledged, sipping drinks, sampling this and that politely, holding quiet conversation with those around her, but her attention kept shifting to the floor beyond, dragging her gaze over every masked attendee, anticipating one to catch her eye, but it was too hard from her position. She needed to be DOWN there brushing shoulders and not just to find E. The Empress was eager to meet everyone. Sitting on a platform above the dancing and merrymaking was not how one made connections.
From across the room came a giant and his procession, parting crowds with his presence alone, and Vyra
could say she rose from the table to give her husband space to entertain his famed guest on his own, lightly touched Kainan’s shoulder and promised she’d return before the cake ceremony as she took her leave. She could say it was that.
But really, the Naboo native felt oddly compelled to avoid Darth Prazitus at all costs. Even from all the way across the hall, she could feel the death that stained his very bones, and she couldn’t fathom tolerating it up close.
Savani followed as Vyra descended the steps, every
rainbow gem in her mask, scattered in her brown curls and sewn across her outfit flickering brilliantly. Her gown seemed to stay in place by sheer force of will, bearing fair shoulders and a deep v-neck with no perceptible means of holding itself up, and the fabric swept down her form in the purest white, fading into a red the color of fresh blood at the hem. It was as if she was rising from the carnage of their Infinite Conquest…or, perhaps, sinking into it. At her fingertips on her left hand were the small silver claw ornaments she’d grown accustomed to wearing, though they’d been brushed and polished to perfection. A bold vision, all soft curves, blood, and sharp, brittle starlight, and she wore it well.
But the weight of what it all meant dragged heavily on her spirit.
She turned as she reached the marble floor, giving Savani quick instructions to fetch her bouquet and prepare it for tossing, for the time to indulge in the old tradition would be upon them soon. The young woman hurried away and Vyra took a step backwards, the smile on her face vanishing moments before her body registered something at her back.
Well, some
one.
And she didn’t need the Force to know exactly who it was. She could feel the change in the world around her.
It took every ounce of control not to leap away. Vyra turned as casually as she could, taking a single but small polite step away, not even trying to form a friendly smile, and slowly craned her neck upwards to stare doe-eyed at Darth Prazitus, the God-King of Epicanthix, Reaper of Souls. Crowned in shadows, masked in a charred skull, Vyra could see nothing of the man underneath, but her lungs were frozen in her chest, and the very air around his giant body seemed to shake as if trying to pull away in fear but held in place by some magnetic force.
Darkness. He was
darkness. She wanted to run. Not because she was terrified, though fear kept her breathless, but because it
felt so wrong.
Suddenly she wished she’d stayed at the table. She’d sorely misjudged how far this..being could walk in one stride or she’d have managed to avoid him entirely.
It took a moment for Vyra to fight for her air, but she forced herself to stay where she was, aware there were eyes on them. If she couldn’t handle Darth Prazitus, she had no business being a monarch.
Swallowing, Vyra lifted her chin and willed her feet to remain in place.
Such an odd sight they must be.
“Apologies, Majesty,” she began coolly if a bit breathlessly, returning the title.
“It was not my intent to accost you. I.. know my husband has greatly anticipated your presence tonight, I shan’t delay you any further.” But she did not move. She would not, no matter how much she wanted to. If he was to pass, he would walk around her.
“I will join you both once I’ve greeted the others.”
Scherezade deWinter
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