It had to be dawn somewhere.
The light grew behind the trees, morning fog lifting from broad-leafed plants in the understory. Bright golden rays of light filtered through the thick trunks and blade-shaped leaves of the Dathomirian trees. Eyes slowly opened, the sound of those little red-eyed avians that he never recalled the name of piercing their ears, their shrill song louder than the nearby stormfalls, the quietly crackling fire. He slowly sat up, the sheets falling to his waist as he regarded the room, his arm instinctively feeling for her next to him. Warm and curled up, his hand found her, letting his hand rest on her back for a moment before rising.
There were many places he should have called home, but only one that actually felt it. The Fallen Spear’s suite was luxurious when he had been gifted the ship, and decades of enhancements had made it uniquely theirs. From the enormous viewscreen that would show whatever they wanted, to the stormfall rain machines and fireplaces, it was one of the few places in the universe that he could actually sleep soundly. That they could sleep soundly. Muz debated shifting the screen to something different, but decided to leave it be, the gentle nature of their alarm clock still soothing even as they travelled through the depths of the outer rim.
He moved off of the bed, moving silently toward the en suite, pausing to look back at her. She stretched and yawned, then kicked the sheets off and slid from the bed in a fluid motion. It was to be a busy day. Black eyes swept back, the handcarved wooden mannequins that bore his warcoat, his armor. The wall behind them was a spiral of trophies, each hilt recalling a face, a name, a story. He moved past, stepping alongside his wardrobe, one of a matched pair that framed the room as it narrowed.
Between the wardrobes was a silvery case from the tailors, the new bespoke garments for the gala tonight within. They had taken hours last week, the artisans proudly showing off what seemed like a thousand samples of rich fabrics as others silently whirred around them, taking measurement after measurement, bringing them tiny plates and cups to keep them refreshed throughout the process. The tailors and specialists that attended them on Kyataru were known for precision, for manners, for perfection. Nothing less would do for this. Muz recalled wondering about how his bride would react to them, for if he was sometimes overwhelmed with the royal treatment, she would certainly have felt doubly so.
They had both worn many masks over time. Axi Zorax. Maxim Fastblade. Kai’ja Sarin. Daraku. Each served a different purpose, each had a time and place, use cases to keep attention off of them while they accomplished their ends. Tonight would be different. Muz lifted the finely embroidered silk from the case, eyes tracing the lines of ancient symbols stitched into fabric that cost more than his first ship. Tonight for once, they were to be the distraction.
Her lithe form moved silently as she headed towards the waterfall shower. She adjusted the temperature slightly before stepping onto the heated stones and under the water. Rivers swam down her body caressing every curve of her skin.
Waking up on the Spear always felt…different. The ship as a whole wasn’t home to her as it was to Muz but their private quarters…that was home. As home as anywhere, she supposed.
She spent almost an equal amount of time here as she did on the Dragon, but compared to the Dragon, this was pure luxury. She didn’t look at it that way though. It was just familiar.
Muz had spared no expense in making this place as much hers as it was his. The garden with the Dathomirian plants, the sounds of the forest piped in, the waterfall shower in the middle of it was all with her in mind.
A shadow fell across her momentarily before arms encircled her waist and pulled her to him. She melted into his embrace as the water cascaded over both of them.
She sighed deeply. She’d rather stay here than attend this thing. She’d rather do almost anything else besides this. Putting on a different persona to obtain intel or do a job was one thing, but this was going to be different. All eyes were to be on them tonight. She was used to keeping to the shadows and avoiding attention, not being the center of it.
She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a large black fluffy towel around herself as he finished up his shower. Her eyes fell to their garments for this evening’s festivities. The time it had taken to be fitted for these was exhausting.This was going to be her biggest challenge yet..
‘I’d rather fight a pit full of gundarks.’ She thought.
She felt rather than saw his smirk.
Ashia sat with her eyes closed, deep in meditation, steeling herself for what was about to come. She could feel his strong presence beside her. His strength looming over her like a comforting shadow.
Dagger One descended rapidly as it made its approach to the landing pad. Leena guided it down effortlessly as if she’d done so a million times before.
As the thrusters settled the shuttle down with a hiss, she opened her eyes and took a deep breath.
Ashia stood before her husband, Her long red hair hung loose down her back, stopping just at her knees. Two small braids on either side wound themselves around her loose hair. She brushed her hands down the front and back of her skirts, settling them into place. Her ornate gown took some getting used to.
‘Now or never.’ Azure eyes settled on his onyx ones, a look of uncertainty in them he hadn’t seen in a very long time.
He took her hand and nodded at her. 'Just follow my lead.’ He weathered all the pomp and circumstance way better than she did.
They stepped out of the cockpit followed closely by Forge and were met by a steward who bowed unceremoniously and showed them the way.
Vibrant imported flowers framed the entrance, weaved around each other to create an archway smelling of sweetness. The lush carpet leading in absorbed their footsteps, the flicker of lights glinting off of tiny gems embedded within. Someone had spent an exceptional amount of money for this soiree. Forge ambled before them, never more than a few paces away, arms crossed behind his back. Muz lifted his arm, waiting for her to slide her arm in his, her hands gripping the forearm of the tailored suit.
Her dress left one shoulder bare, the fabric cascading down the other side of her body like a waterfall in dusky tones, hugging her body until it neared the floor, then seeming to froth and foam with movement. The colors matched the accents of her husband’s suit, but only the accents. The new warcoat was a far cry from the armorweave reinforced leather, the black material seeming to be quilted at first glance. The deep purple waistcoat beneath seemed too soft to be real. When the lights shone on it directly, the stitching betrayed runes and eldritch symbols befitting the Lord of the Krath.
“May I present…” Forge stepped to the side of the entrance as they approached the end of the corridor, the opening of the ballroom proper swarming with all manner of connected individuals; the wealthy and the noble, the powerful and the politician. Eyes turned toward them as Forge recited the litany of titles, each more grandiose than the last as Muz suppressed the cringe born from deep within. They watched, more eyes turning with each additional title, all of them wearing the fake smiles of the schemer, the manipulative, the opportunist. The predator.
So they thought.
Muz stepped first, Ashia following at his side, a waiter dipping his eyes as he raised a platter of crystal flutes, a brightly colored effervescent liquid within, a slice of segmented fruit with a flower adorning the rim. They nodded politely, taking the stems in fingertips and waiting for the staff to leave. Court was a dance of precision and exacting movements, one that annoyed at the best of times. At least today served another purpose. Muz raised his glass and met Ashia’s eyes.
Soon.
Glasses raised to lips, the quiet moment fading away behind some functionary or other begging a moment of their time, some representative with a proposal that they simply must hear. Attention was demanded, courtesy had to be maintained. He felt Ashia’s hand tighten on his arm, her visceral desire that it was a blade instead as plain as daylight to he who knew her best.
He shifted his weight, drawing back his focus, letting the Duke of Fasil drone on with his story about some sort of creature to race and how it would be the newest sensation as his senses reached out, feeling along the threads of the tapestry. Fine points burned to the touch, their patterns recognizable. Leena had moved into position, the Sadow strike team not far behind. He let his mind wander in wonder, the plan in motion as they distracted the attentions of those who might otherwise be doing their jobs. Muz smiled. After all, his reputation had to be good for something.
“Ah but my lady, my lord…I see that your glasses have gone dry.” The duke prattled. “Allow me to remedy that…”
Two new glasses were placed into their hands just as quickly as it was spoken. They both nodded their appreciation and took a sip. A moment later, they excused themselves to move off towards others that were also vying for a moment with the Lord and Lady Keibatsu.
The Duchess of Varu was talking their ears off about the changes her planet was going through as the mining colonies were disappearing. Ashia took a hors d’oeuvre from a passing tray as she nodded at the Duchess. The small tartine held a bit of smoked fish from Naboo with a creamy cheese. Muz’s attention was split between the Duchess and the rest of the room as he kept a watch on everyone warily. His senses reached out to graze their minds, ensuring their safety. With this many diplomats it would be too easy for an assassination attempt on any of them.
They made their way from group to group, Ashia playing the part of the diplomat, discussing current concerns of the day and placating the aristocrats with her charm. She picked up bits here and there from their minds, enough to give her the ability to talk to each one with finesse and flair. Each one enamored by her. As she worked the crowd, Muz reached out to Leena. Everything was in place.
Muz nodded to Ashia. Reaching out mentally, she touched the mind of the orchestra leader and planted the idea to play a waltz. As the music began, he bowed slightly as he took her hand. The two excused themselves as they deposited half drunk glasses on a nearby tray and made their way to the dance floor.
A cacophony of sound rose throughout the room, and all eyes turned towards the dance floor as the two stood facing one another. He held her hand aloft as her slender hand wrapped itself around his broad shoulder and effortlessly they began to glide.
With sheer elegance and precision they moved as one. The music lifted and pulsated, sending them to move faster with each beat. They appeared to be floating above the floor as he swirled her around, her skirts flying this way and that with a slight rustle only they could hear..
Onyx eyes looked deep into her as the music caressed their senses. She lost herself in that darkness for a few moments. Almost forgetting what they were there for. He had that effect on her. It had been a long while since they had danced like this. More often than not, their dance was of a different sort. One that involved a lot of bloodshed. She loved it either way.
As the entire room focused their attention on them, he focused completely on her. Her azure eyes fixed entirely on his as well, and for just one moment she thought she could see the violet that those eyes once held. She breathed him in deeply and let the rest of the room fall away leaving only the two of them in each other’s embrace.
The world melted away from them. The incessant prattling of those seeking influence was lost in the music, the stresses of the mission faded behind their focus on the movements, on each other. For a moment, they were free. Like they were before all of this, deep among the stars that no one bothered to map. Before the clans, before the thrones, before life and the gods had decided to make their lives difficult. For now, they let their hearts beat together, their breathing synchronized as easily as they moved across the floor.
The music raised to a crescendo, pitch and tempo whirling about them as he spun her away from him, watching her pivot on one heel, spinning gracefully as he sidestepped, leading her back to him as the final horn sang out, her form collapsing into his dramatically, one leg left behind as he dipped her, nearly to the floor, his face inches from hers as they held the final movement as the music stopped.
The stillness lingered for a moment longer than it probably should have. Muz brought his legs together, raising himself up, bringing his bride back to her balance as he did so, touching his forehead to hers for a moment before straightening back up fully, turning toward the edge of the floor as a number of the onlookers stared with confusion on their faces. They had known who they were, of course, but in a dozen lifetimes, they never would have expected to see them dance, let alone well.
The duke began clapping, slowly at first, then faster as others joined in. Annoyance bloomed in the back of Muz’s mind. This wasn’t a show for them, it wasn’t a part of the plan. Ashia’s hand draped along his bicep, calming him.
But it worked out.
Her words found their way inside of his head without sound. Muz dipped his head for a moment before making a quick hand gesture, commandeering a waiter’s attention. flutes removed from his tray, Muz handed one to his bride and gave half a smile, the most he could manage given the situation. How much longer would they have to maintain this spectacle, he wondered.
Ashia smiled at him over the top of the crystal flute, her eyes peering through the petals of the flower garnish. There were certainly worse ways to support a mission. At least these people didn’t expect him to make grandiose speeches or have in-depth conversations. No, his silence worked out for them, giving them more time to fill the air with their plans, plots, machinations, attempts to influence… and feel like they were getting somewhere. He chuckled, a low and gravelly sound that caused the duke to take a step back in concern.
Kanryo.
The Kyataran word came across the ether to both of them, the Force carrying Koji’s voice from across the void. ‘Complete.’ Muz saw his love sigh, relaxation taking root in her shoulders, her posture. Not many spoke Kyataran outside of the family, and should an outsider have intercepted the message somehow, it wouldn’t mean much to them, at least not until it was too late. Translation devices were advanced, but they were not force sensitive. Muz smiled at Ashia as the music started to rise again. She nodded once, then finished the rest of her drink in a single pull, her foot tapping in time with the drum beat.
“Shall we?”
— FIN —