Ask The Desert Queen

[Darth Arcanos]

The sun was barely above the horizon, but Azar was up and seated on a ledge on a grand balcony that overlooked the deserts. The sunrises and sunsets on Korriban were among the most beautiful in the galaxy, and he found himself staring deep in thought. He had a hookah pipe in his hand, blowing out wisps of smoke as he took in the landscape before him. The air was still cool, breezes rifling through the thin, white curtains and kissing his bare, tattooed skin. He was shirtless save for white, flowy pants, his long hair undone for now. His golden eyes looked especially bright gazing into the sun, smoke pluming from his nostrils.

He had two wives now and spent his nights with each to consummate his weddings. Despite not being in love, he knew his way around women and proved an especially satisfying lover. The pressure to produce an heir would be high, but it would take time. Part of the reason they always teetered on the brink of extinction was the low frequency of births.

None of that crossed his mind then, his thoughts elsewhere. His new wife was still asleep in the grand bed a few feet away while he found comfort in his solitude. Just like with Thalisa, he would do his due diligence to be present as King and husband, and perhaps eventually father.

After he blew out another cloud of smoke, he wondered if he and Ilyan had more in common than they would admit. Was anyone really here by choice and love? Did duty ever turn into desire or did it always remain strictly a compromise and debts to pay? Would she even be his wife if not for Ashani’s insolence? Did Ilyan also have someone else she loved and longed for? Did she pretend Azar was them while they spent the night together?

 

[Ilyan]

Ilyan's life had been turned on its head and after a two week long wedding ceremony, feasts, and the like, it was only now that she began to feel her life slow down enough to actually think about all that had happened.

It still felt surreal, and she had managed to keep her dutiful face on. She hadn't let anyone - not even her husband - see the moments where she went off to the corner to cry. She wouldn't allow anyone to see that. This was her duty as much as it had been to lead her forces against the armies of Kressh.

Her first days had been spent in rampant and abject fear. This was the King of the Sith and a King she had ridden out against in rebellion. She could only imagine what would happen to her behind closed doors.

To her shock, Azar had been surprisingly gentle. She braced herself for the assumption that the shoe was going to drop any day now. Azar would hear the quiet exclamations of her nightmares coming from the bed, and probably the best indicator that she was awake was that they had stopped. At first she awoke to no memory of where she was before remembering she was in his bed - or rather her bed now - on Korriban.

She closed her eyes tightly, burying her face in the pillow for a moment as she braced herself for the act she knew she needed to put on.

After another minute or two she finally rolled over, sliding out of bed and grabbing the robe from the side of the bed to cover herself. She looked over to see the King there, sitting with his legs hanging off the balcony, and she moved over toward him, near-silent footsteps of bare feet as she took a seat next to him.

Good morning, husband. It will be a beautiful morning, no? she asked. Her own accent was thick, but she knew that she needed to adjust to speaking basic if she was going to be a wife to the King. Another adjustment required by her new position.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

He had heard her tossing and turning of course. He even heard her softly crying. Through it all, he kept smoking from his hookah pipe. As he gazed out over the dunes, he wondered where her home was. Was it nestled in an oasis far beyond where the eye could see? Did she sleep under the stars on a terrace every night?

Azar didn’t look over when she first approached him. By all accounts, Ilyan was a stunning woman, and possessed a tenderness to her that he first recognized in Salini. The tenderness that got Salini killed. Azar blew out more smoke, gazing out towards the dunes that were once red with Salini’s blood - the event that started this entire feud. Was Ilyan an assassin sent under the guise of a wife? Would she kill Azar the moment she gave birth to a son?

The King smirked at that. He would have done just that if he had been Ilyan.

There was a moment of silence and quiet smoking before Azar finally spoke, “Where would you escape?” He asked in ur-kittat, not bothering with Basic, “Without the weight of that diamond on your finger or the expectations of your family burdening you. Where would you run?” He asked calmly without looking at her. His raven locks billowed in the wind, the sunlight giving his crimson skin a sheen. His heavily tattooed torso was a tapestry of stories, the one left by Vossari prominently shining on one of his shoulder blades.

 

[Ilyan]

Ilyan was blissfully unaware of the King's thoughts about her cousin, simply trying to navigate her way through this precarious land of politics she now inhabited. The deserts were a different kind of place, and out there people said what they meant, but Ilyan had always fancied herself a quick learner. She knew she would have to be.

His question caught her off-guard, and she was certain it had to be a trick or a trap. I would never want to be anywhere but here, she said. The lie tasted bitter in her mouth, and her mind was drawn to the desert oasis of Ramathar. She had spent many hours there as a young girl, playing amidst the small lakes and under the trees until she was too tired to play on any longer. Even as she had grown older, she had done much of her practice and sparring under the shade of its trees.

Something about the look on Azar's face told her that her initial answer would not pass and so she finally answered. She hoped that in doing so he wouldn't go to burn down one of the few places in the world that she felt at home.

There is an oasis near where I grew up. It is shaded from the sun during the day by an overhanging of the canyon walls, she said. She nearly asked him where he would go, but surely this was precisely where he wanted to be, right? He was the King and could do as he liked. And yet... he had married a woman considered by most to be a traitor, and something in his eyes looked... empty. There was a look that he put on but it didn't ever quite seem to make it up to his eyes. Were they both trapped here? Locked in some strange conflict that neither was prepared for?

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar grinned at the response, “Good girl,” He said with a nod of approval at her first answer, “You have to become very good at lying if you want to survive a royal court,” He said as he slowly turned to meet her gaze for the first time. After a pause she answered truthfully, a faraway look appearing on his face for a moment. He inhaled from the pipe and blew out a thick cloud of smoke into the winds.

“Elephant Rock,” He stated flatly, “The canyon is shaped like an elephant that casts a shadow only at a particular time of day,” Azar said, revealing that he knew far more about her life than she may have realized. Elephant rock was a niche and exclusive location that only people directly from her village would have known about. Ilyan would have heard about the Kressh family butchering the desert dwellers, she would have heard stories about how Azar murdered Salini Kurvast and all sorts of twisted tales.

And yet Azar would have only known about Elephant Rock if someone willingly took him there.

He gave her a knowing look for a moment before finishing up the hookah. He slid off the ledge and walked over to put on some robes, “You do not need to keep sharing my bed,” Azar said calmly, “We will need to do what we must until you are with child, but I will not push for anything you do not desire,” They both knew how this worked. She knew what she signed up for.

“We will be visiting some of the rivaling desert tribes today,” Azar explained, “Hopefully your presence will bring them over to our side,” He said before he glanced at the dunes just past her.

“Like you…the answer is a place I can see but seems just out of reach and elusive,” He said after a moment of silence, implying that he answered the question she didn’t dare ask him after he had asked his. And without further words, he was gone and would be waiting for her in the courtyard.

 

[Ilyan]

Ilyan's mouth dropped open slightly as he mentioned Elephant Rock, not able to keep the surprise off of her face that he knew the rocks that shadowed over the oasis. How was that possible? Had he sacked the place? Tortured one of her people for the information? No, she hadn't heard stories of it being sacked, which meant there had to be another explanation. She would have known.

She didn't dare to ask.

She was further befuddled by his comment about not being required to share his bed. That was... well, that was basically her entire purpose here. They could dress it up and glorify it to be whatever they wanted, but that was what she had become. And yet...

And yet he told her differently. Was she not to his liking? Or perhaps... maybe it was that he couldn't stand her presence either. Perhaps he did find this as distasteful as she did.

I wish to satisfy you, my husband, she said. That was at least partially true. She had no interest in being dissatisfying. She had no doubt she would be soon cast aside if that were the case. Quietly assassinated or meeting with some "accident."

There was a moment as he stood that her eyes fell across his many tattoos, wondering for just a moment at what they all meant.

The Moon Valley Tribe, she said, knowing immediately who he was talking about and demonstrating she was indeed quick witted enough to put the pieces together.

Of course. I will be ready, she said as he said where they would be going.

Her head tilted ever-so-slightly to the side as he spoke of a place just out of reach. So he was trapped. She thought for the most fleeting of moments that maybe they weren't so different from one another. But that... couldn't be right.

And then he was gone.

She readied herself for travel across the desert, donning an outfit that was practical if not particularly royal. From her belt hung her ever-present pair of long knives and on her exposed right arm were the innumerable marks of healed nicks to the skin.

Something about her demeanor seemed almost different out here. Where in the privacy of a bedroom she was racked by fear that she tried and failed to hide, out here in the light of the day there was a confidence that showed through. A pride and confidence she did her best to curb upon seeing him, casting her eyes to the ground.

Will we travel with an army escort? she asked. She doubted he went anywhere without one, right? Not that he wasn't perfectly capable of looking after himself.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

The Moon Valley Tribe. They were stubborn, uneducated, uncivilized as his Nana often told him. However, he would hold off on judgment until he witnessed for himself.

When she emerged, she would find likely to her surprise that he didn’t dress overtly gaudy. He presented as a noble man in fineries, but certainly not obviously the King. Azar needed Ilyan to be the main character for this endeavor, not him. They would journey in speeders flanked by vehicles that carried a military force. Some were obvious forces, others Azar had hidden away in case Ilyan got any bright ideas about an ambush or assassination attempt while they were in her territory.

“Massassi and Kissai will join us,” He explained as he motioned for her to take a seat next to him. Once the party started to move, he turned to her, “The ideas I have for them involved bringing the industry of moisture farming and giving the tribes access to harvest more water,” Azar explained, “Do you understand what moisture farming is?” He asked, prepared to show her if she wasn’t familiar, “It is primarily practiced on this planet called Tatooine. Water is the biggest currency I can think of for bartering with the tribes,” He paused there, “What do you think, wife?” Azar asked, genuinely curious about her voice in his plan.

 

[Ilyan]

Ilyan was surprised to see Azar actually wearing something that seemed to compliment her. That was probably... for a reason, right? She assumed everything he did was tactical. All these politicians and nobles were that way. It was why there was no way she was going to survive this political court.

She looked over at him as they rode on, listening as he talked about water mining or something equally crazy sounding. She had never traveled off of Korriban before and she knew nothing but the scarcity of water.

Her face twisted in confusion as he spoke about it.

How is that even possible? Is it sorcery? she asked. Naturally, it sounded like it to her. In fact, sorcery was more approachable than this was.

As he explained, she listened with rapt attention. Of course this was what he had married her for. He needed her help in securing peace with the desert tribes. It was why her parents had sold her off.

This will turn the attention of the tribes. It... could change everything, she said, starting to realize just the implications of what this could mean to her people. She sat up a little straighter as they zoomed along.

Her mind was racing, and that same confident woman was starting to assert itself.

Even they will have to listen to this, she said. After the defeat of her cousin, there were few tribes who had opted to continue fighting. Most realized they were defeated, but the Moon Valley... they would fight until they were wiped out. Or at least Ilyan had thought that.

She nearly blurt out with the question about what had happened to her cousin. Or with a question about why he was bothering to bring them in. Or maybe something else related.

They rode on in silence for a time until she couldn't help herself. Perhaps emboldened by the desert itself or the light of the sun.

Do I displease you? she asked. The comment you made earlier, she said.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Her wonder and awe was exactly the reaction he was hoping for. Azar actually smiled at the response, knowing that the tribes would be just as fascinated by the concept of moisture farming. Water had always been scarce throughout Korriban, but especially so for the nomadic desert tribes. One summer that was just the slightest bit drier and it risked wiping out entire villages.

When she asked her question, Azar quirked a brow before he reflected on why she would ask that, “You do not displease me, wife,” He said calmly, “But I imagine as a desert woman, you envisioned a life where you chose your partner and who you shared a bed with,” Azar explained, knowing the tribes touted their sense of freedom with pride, “Perhaps you even have a lover back home you yearn for,” He mused bluntly while he was sure no one else could hear or judge her, “So I will not force you to warm my bed beyond the bare minimum we need to continue my line,” He stated rather candidly. He already decided he wouldn’t mince words with his wives - they would hear plainly from him.

Azar paused before asking her, “Was I the first man you were with?” He asked. He could have guessed, but he couldn’t deny he indulged in quite a bit of wine to numb his mind before the act. Perhaps he should have paid more attention…

 

[Ilyan]

He, of course, hit very close to home. There were many ways that she had expected her life to go and none of them were like this. It occurred to her that she was probably the only woman who would have been displeased. Azar was attractive, powerful, and that made her powerful by extension. The fact that it wasn't her decision stung, but perhaps she should make the best of the situation.

I... she started, but the words seemed to stick in her throat because she didn't know what words she wanted to say.

That is a very kind gesture, she said. The words felt strange in her mouth, but they were also true. This... didn't align with what she had heard. With the person she had marched out against. It left her... confused.

As he asked her the last question, she could feel her cheeks warming and she looked down in embarrassment.

Was it so obvious? she asked. She was going to make a lousy wife, wasn't she? Hopefully she would at least produce an heir in a timely manner. Even the thought of that was strange. She seldom considered having children, and it would no doubt mean having to retire from her life of combat. Or at the least it would put her out of the conflict for months or longer.

She thought back to that night and all of its... moments. It could have been much worse, although to say that she could still very much smell the alcohol on Azar's breath would have been an understatement. At the time she had thought it was just because he enjoyed being drunk. Now she had other suspicions.

You did not want to marry me, did you? she asked. Where is your far away place?

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar remained silent after her question. He didn’t feel particularly guilty about how the night went, and he certainly didn’t make it obvious that he wasn’t entirely present. He didn’t flop around like a fish and was convincing enough. However, he could tell the facade was unraveling. What he didn’t expect was for it to actually bother her. Everyone raised as a royal looked to things like marital relations as a chore to accomplish. A means to an end. Very few did it for pleasure and it was very rare for love to be involved.

The Pureblood found himself staring at Ilyan for a few seconds, studying her face and mannerisms.

“It is fortuitous I did not want to marry you,” Azar said grimly, “I killed the person I married by choice and I had a partner's family butchered,” He stated flatly. Of all the rumors that circulated around him, the marriage one was the one that he bluntly confirmed. Azar Kressh was bloodbound married to a husband - a Sadow at that - and he later murdered him. He absolutely didn't want her to mistakenly believe he didn't have a ruthless streak to him.

“Why does it matter, wife?” He asked her, curiously, “What reason did you marry me outside of securing peace for your people and a foothold among royalty?” Many would call her actions a sacrifice for her people. The desert tribes prided themselves in their autonomy and freedom, so for her to take this step was huge.

“You will be able to sway the tribes easier if you at least give the illusion that you love me,” Azar stated rather matter of factly, “Every tribe prides choice. Every marriage and relationship is always by choice. They need to believe you chose me,” Azar looked into her eyes, “Drink as much wine as you need to sell it,” He said firmly. He purposely didn’t answer her question about where his far away place was, but the slight flicker of pain was unmistakable in his eye. One that disappeared as swiftly as it appeared.

Up ahead in the distance, they could see the gorges that marked the landmark for almost arriving at the tribe village.

 

[Ilyan]

The world of political marriages was all still very foreign to her. Sure, she knew about it in theory, but unlike the many nobles who knew precisely what to expect and what their position was, Ilyan was still piecing it out.

His piercing yellow eyes seemed to burn right through her for a moment, more scorching than the Korriban sun over her head, and she felt the fool as she listened to him speak.

The things he had done and laid claim to sounded every bit what she had heard. They were the words of someone who had killed her cousin. Perhaps he simply allowed her this freedom of choice to spare himself having to deal with her.

A reminder in speaking of his partner that if Ilyan ever slipped out of line everyone she cared about would be butchered like cattle. That same fear that had seized her and only for the faintest moment started to fade away returned, and she was silent. She answered none of his questions. She didn't dare. She had been too daring and didn't want to face his wrath or the variety of awful things he could still do to her.

Of course, my husband. It will be no act, she said, her voice nearly trapping in her throat as she averted her eyes to the floor of the speeder. She blinked several times to push away the water that wanted to accumulate.

And yet, her mind lingered on how he didn't answer her question. How his own eyes had shown with pain as he spoke. How there was no way she was going to ask. About what might happen to her later if she did.

She was almost thankful when they reached the village, brushing aside a stray piece of her hair as she took a deep breath in. It wasn't quite a smile on her face, but that was also just Ilyan all over. She wasn't the happy smiling type and no one in the desert would expect her to be. She reminded herself of the pride of her heritage and the fact that she was - even now, bent and as some would say broken - a blood blade.

She took pride in that.

She stepped from the speeder and strode toward the village. Already she could feel the lanvaroks being aimed at her.

My name is Ilyan Kressh. Blood blade of Kurvast, and I demand an audience! she shouted fearlessly in ur-kittat.

We recognize no traitor! If you would speak, then you fight for the chance to speak, as is our way! Prove the strength of your blades! came the shouted reply as the challenger began to make his way forward.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Inciting fear in her wasn’t exactly his intent, but if it allowed her to stay emotionally distant, perhaps it was for the best. It would hurt her far more if she actually loved him in ways he could never return. They were silent the rest of the way, his gaze trained forward. He had a flask of wine that he drank from occasionally, but he kept his focus sharp and alert for whatever they would face.

He wasn’t entirely surprised by the terse exchange between Ilyan and the villager. That was when Azar slipped out of his vehicle. The name Kressh carried far more weight beyond just royalty. Without a word, he walked forth, grasping one of her blades. He sliced the edge of the blade along the palm of his hand, eliciting gasps from the desert tribes. They all knew what it meant for a Kressh to do this.

His essence seeped into the blade, enhancing it with the strengths of his ancestors as he quietly whispered incantations. It was potent magick that his entire lineage was known for. It was the prize everyone seeking to marry him desired - his blood, the precious and powerful nectar to perform the most devastating forms of alchemy and sorcery. But only effective if a Kressh voluntarily imbued the weapons.

Azar could see the challenger flinch, a faint flash of fear briefly appearing in their eyes. The King handed the blade back to Ilyan, speaking so his voice projected to the tribe, “Ilyan Kressh, Blood blade of Kurvast and Kressh,” He said powerfully, his hand briefly layering over Ilyan’s where she gripped the hilt, “You will recognize her,” He said icily before stepping back. He said nothing more, giving a solemn, reassuring nod to his wife to carry on the tradition of her people. But she would know that she wasn't going into this alone. She was doing this as a queen. Azar Kressh's queen.

 

[Ilyan]

Ilyan had been preparing to reach for her blades, prepared to coat them in her own blood as was the wont of a blood blade, but what Azar did next... took her by surprise. Actually, that wasn't really the right word for it, she was shocked and stunned. Those were better words.

What the blood blades only mimicked in part was what Kressh could put on full display, and Ilyan could immediately feel the shift in the valley as everyone became nervous and tense.

She barely managed to shake herself out of being stunned in fact as he handed her blade back to her. Traditionally, her people scraped the blades together to spread their blood across both, and she had no idea if it would work the same here, but out of reflex - a sort of salutation - she did it anyway.

Thank you, my husband, she said, her eyes almost for a moment glimmering in their own right before they flicked back to the man she would fight. He drew his own blood, his blades glowing a faint red as he scraped them together.

And then the two charged each other. In that moment, Ilyan didn't even know what happened. She felt a power surge through her that she didn't understand. It made her impossibly quick, and she was sure for a moment that the world around her had actually stood still. She was sure she could have simply walked up and slit her enemy's throat without even struggling.

She realized it was because of Azar. It was his power and the power of his people that she was tapping into, and with it came... a flood of faces. Were they memories? Eyes of men she had never met who caused him so much pain. With those eyes came a pang of pain, not physical, but something far deeper.

She drew on this new power, feeling it flow through her as the exchange of blows happened. Blade tinked against one another in rapid succession, and whatever power and skill Ilyan had, it was quickly clear that that wasn't what won the day.

It was the blindingly fast speed that caused her to bring her blade around, plunging into the side of the man before the other knife slammed into his throat.

He fell to the ground, body twitching and spasming s the remainder of his life blood ran out into the dirt.

Ilyan simply stared down, watching the way the crimson pulsed and splattered. Watching the beauty of it running through the sands and returning to the planet from whence they all came. As she stepped down, her eyes fell to the blade in her hand and then her hands themselves.

You're in a world where you don't belong. You're outmatched, but your son... he will be powerful, she realized. A son? Was it a premonition or simply a foolish thought of a woman still riding the incredible high of a power she had never felt before and would never feel again.

It was... overwhelming and so much to take in.

Focus, Ilyan, she told herself.

The strength of my blade... of our blades are proven! We will speak! she shouted, holding up her blood soaked knives, now stained with the blood of her enemy.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar watched the display, marveling at the way his wife effortlessly moved and fought. Only a part of it was his doing, but her skill was admirable even without it. While it didn’t end in a way that aligned with how he wanted to do things - after all, it hardly seemed worth killing someone just to speak to a tribe - he wouldn’t intervene in her ways more than he already had.

The tribes looked at their dead, carrying him away and performing the prayers of their people. A tall woman stepped forth, dressed in the garbs and symbols of the Moon Valley tribe.

“We hadn’t witnessed a fight like that in many years,” The woman said in an ur-kittat dialect that Azar barely comprehended, “Come, you and your husband are welcome guests as is our way,” She gave a nod. Azar walked along with Ilyan, still suspicious. He had his Kissai only a short distance away, prepared to act if anything went sideways.

The tribe had simple structures and thatched roofs. They had small farms and a very simplistic style of living. The two were led to a larger home, carpets and plush seating on the ground in front of low tables. The woman gestured for them to take a seat, pouring locally made tea. Azar watched to see her take a sip first before he would partake.

“I am Shaiza Kriatza, chief of the Moon Valley people,” The woman said, “It is highly unusual for a member of a royal house to come out this way..” She said, her gaze lingering on Azar before she looked to Ilyan, “Even more unusual to see Kurvast and Kressh entwined,” However, her face did not display any judgment.

“My wife and I do not come to cause trouble, but to offer a chance to leave past grievances behind,” Azar said calmly, “We have the means to bring more water to your communities and ensure that there is a consistent way to retrieve it which allows your people to settle down.”

The woman looked perplexed. It was a concept she couldn’t grasp, “But..we have always been nomadic. How is this possible? We have never experienced a constant source of water..”

 

[Ilyan]

Such was the way of the desert. A harsh place of honor, blood, and sand. It claimed the weak and pulled the flesh off of those who lacked the strength to survive its sand and sun. Such extreme duels ending in death were uncommon but expected from such a tense exchange.

Ilyan gave a slight bow as the woman invited them in as guests, cleaning her blades and slipping them back into her sheathe. She still could feel her hands trembling not just from the adrenaline of the fight but from the power she had felt from it. It was... difficult to grasp.

We accept your hospitality, she said. She knew there was yet a chance of treachery and betrayal and she didn't miss the looks of disgust from the people in the tribe. It tore into her soul in a way she wouldn't admit: she was seen as a traitor no matter where she went. To Kressh she was the traitor who rode out in rebellion against the King and to the people of the desert she was the traitor that now warmed the King's bed. She could almost feel their thoughts toward her, but unlike with Azar, she refused to break away from their gazes. She met them with that fire in her eye.

Much to the surprise of those gathered - and likely even to Azar - she extended out her hand as he drew closer, waiting for him to take it that they might walk hand in hand into the village. It felt... weird, but she knew she was here to sell a narrative, and if that narrative required her to play the dutiful wife, then she would do it. It wasn't just a role anymore.

They followed the chieftain into her cottage and Ilyan took a seat, sipping from the tea that was offered. Where Azar saw the constant fear of assassins and poisons, he would note that to Ilyan the idea never even seemed to cross her mind. The rite of hospitality was sacred in the deserts and a far cry from the noble houses.

It is a technology we have found from other desert lands, she said, momentarily realizing how easy it was to slip into saying "we." She had no real part in this. She took credit for the work and ideas of another, but that was why she had been brought along, wasn't it? To make the entire idea more palatable.

It harvests water that cannot be accessed otherwise, she said, and even as she said it, it still sounded too good to be true. A piece of her wondered if she was selling some poison to her own people. The fear that she was simply a tool to wipe out the tribes, to be cast aside into a ditch when her purpose was served. When she bore a child.

An icy fear gripped her unbidden and she tried to push it aside. Your life is a doubt.

The chieftain's eyes turned to Azar and then back to Ilyan. Despite being of the desert, the old woman seemed to have eyes that betrayed a wisdom often thought not to be contained in the deserts.

We thought when you arrived today that it was to make final war against our people. To wipe us out, and yet you come offering prosperity and water to our people. Why? Do you not fear future rebellion or what might happen in a dozen years if we have no need to wander and gather any longer? she asked.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

When Ilyan grasped his hand, he bristled initially. There was a slight hesitation, but he held her hand in the end. It was clear it was a gesture he often preserved for those he loved, but he knew they had a role to play here. They had an image to project. Even so, he realized they cut a striking figure walking hand in hand like that, especially after she had put the challenger in his place. This was going to be his life and he could lament every moment or he could take it day by day and allow himself small victories.

It was a fair question, and one he was surprised wasn’t asked before the two were even invited in. In truth, as much as he played the fair and loving King, no kingdom was without its transactions. While he planned on installing the vaporators and bringing in a new industry, there were operating costs to manage. He couldn’t simply hand out free credits.

“My hope is that with the water harvesting technology, tribes like yours will no longer have to travel from place to place for water,” Azar explained, “I ask for your loyalty and that of your people in return along with a portion of your surplus farmed produce to be sent to the Crown,” He said. He knew she would recoil at that, and he would let her have a chance to get her theater out of the way, “I understand the tribes are used to only serving themselves, but look at how many of them have been outright wiped from existence.”

Azar shook his head, “We are on the brink of extinction and we must cooperate and work together. If I can set aside the prejudice my ancestors held for millenia, then you can be the change to bring stability to your clan.”

As much as she wanted to argue, even she couldn’t deny she had people even now that were malnourished and slowly fading away. Children weren’t born easily to begin with and most of them died before making it to their second birthday.

He kept calm, but he couldn’t deny the desire to subtly change the tea and force the woman into submission. There was a glint in his eye as the machinations of a Sith Lord began to creep in. But he wouldn’t be hasty, he would rely on his wife to be the mediator.

 

[Ilyan]

Ilyan didn't presume to know Azar well, but she had a self-preservation streak born into her, bred into her family after many generations.

She recognized the glint of danger in his eyes as the chieftain began her fit of annoyance, an outburst that didn't result in any physical violence, but was bombastic nonetheless. Even Ilyan - as much as she empathized - found it a bit... much.

Chieftain, which is worse: to have no water or to have water and give a portion of it to someone else. Particularly if that someone is supplying you with the means of gaining it in the first place. Isn't your first duty to protect our peoples under us? she said, bringing logic and duty into the equation. She knew that for the deserts duty trumped even pride. It was why Ilyan sat where she did and made the pitch that she did.

I want to see the children of Korriban thrive, she said, another earnest statement, and this one said with a passion that everyone in the room would feel. Ilyan had spilled blood for her people before and she would again, but she cared about them. All of them, even the Moon Valley.

Very well, she finally said after several more moments of grumping and brooding.

Then the two of you will be our guests tonight. There will be a feast and fire and dancing to celebrate, she said. Even Ilyan could see that it was said with the same look subtly in the eyes of defeat. It was a look Azar had no doubt seen in the eyes of many who had opposed him.

You will stay in my cottage tonight. I will sleep under the stars, she declared, and moved to leave the room, leaving the couple alone again.

They will drink their sorrows away tonight and come to accept that it is for the best, she said, her voice flat before she turned to Azar and gave a small smile that wasn't clear if it was real or not.

This feast will no doubt be small by your standards, but the dancing and the wine is spectacular, she said, her eyes momentarily flashing with the years of memories she had of such events. Such feasts were the way the desert dwellers celebrated births, weddings, and funerals alike.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar was pleased with how Ilyan reeled the woman back in. He may have been a just king, but even he had his limits. These days people were testing his limits quite often and pushing him to violence. Perhaps there was a reason his predecessors often used fear as their governing mechanism rather than love and loyalty. He was already bitter about what happened at the party, and now this woman was testing his last nerve.

After she left, he exhaled and threw back the rest of the tea. Azar already knew that practically any feast here would be far below his expectations. He would give these people their due respect, but that didn’t mean he didn’t find their way of life absolutely disgraceful and filthy. A chief lying on the ground under the stars? It was appalling.

“I will have you know, I am quite the dancer,” Azar said with a smirk, calling for the grotthu to bring in his things. If they were going to stay in this dreadful excuse for a ‘cottage’, he could only bring in a few of his bags.

Soon enough, the cottage was overtaken with all his fineries, linens, cosmetics, perfumes and other extravagant items. He would change for the feast, “Where do you suppose they have a bath?” He asked Ilyan curiously before he realized - with horror - that most of them simply rinsed off in an outdoor shower.

The Pureblood grumpily stepped into the fenced in area with a shower, yelping as the icy water hit his skin, “Gods be damned!” He shrieked, “How do people live like this?” Azar stepped back into the cottage, trembling and lined with goosebumps with one of his fluffy towels wrapped around himself, “Aren’t you going to get ready for this feast?” He asked Ilyan with a perplexed look. How could she stay in the same outfit all day? “Your nails look disastrous..” Azar said dryly as he walked over towards the vanity that traveled everywhere with him. It consisted of a mirror and countless little drawers full of cosmetics, “Go wash and then come sit here.”

 

[Ilyan]

Oh? she asked as he mentioned he was quite a good dancer. She wondered if this was one of those 'oh yes, my King you're an excellent dancer' things or if he really was a good dancer. She supposed time would tell. Tonight would tell.

There is a shower outside, she said, watching as horror crept over his face. She was fairly certain he would have reacted with less appalling reaction if she'd said that four children had fallen off of a cliff. For a moment she just stared at him, blinking before he got up to leave.

It was only then that she finally let out a breath, letting muscles relax that she didn't even realize were tense. She flopped onto her back on the ground and closed her eyes, simply existing in her own mind and in solitude.

She heard him coming back and quickly sat up again, trying and failing to look like she had actually been doing something. It would be painfully obvious that she hadn't.

My... huh? she said, looking down at her nails. They weren't that bad. They were trimmed and... there. Oh... she said, looking down at herself and his gaze and feeling the general vibe once again that she was entirely inadequate.

Yes, of course, husband, she said, rising and heading outside to wash down in a way that was really just another shower for her before coming inside. She had to admit, the big cushy, plush towels and the associated plush robe she wrapped up in afterwards were actually quite nice. One of the things she would have no trouble getting used to in the time going forward.

She did as she was told, coming back inside and taking a seat to extend her hands as she was told. She could sense Azar's... distaste for the whole situation from a mile away, and found herself almost squirming a bit in uncertainty about what to say or do about it. She was his wife, sure, but she'd also managed to solidly put her foot in her mouth already. Like not just a toe, it was the entire foot.

Should I offer to stay while he goes back? Is that an insult? Would he be mad at me for suggesting that? He'd probably think it's some conspiracy. Maybe if I suggest it's below his station to be out here? And who the kriff knows what's going to happen tonight that could go poorly, the thoughts ran through her mind silently.

If... she paused, well it was already out there now, so there wasn't really any getting around having to say something. If you feel it is below you to be out here, I could remain while you return, she offered pensively.