Ask The Desert Queen

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar waited for her to take a seat, grasping her by the chin and tilting her face at different angles to study her skin and pores. He first grabbed some moisturizer and spread it out over her face, gently rubbing it into her skin. Ilyan’s suggestion was largely ignored as Azar focused on getting her ready, “Close your eyes,” He said as he began to apply a gold hue to her lids, gingerly brushing over the crease of her eyes with a darker shade. He grabbed kohl, “This is made from crushed beatles from the far valleys beyond the city of Ur,” He explained, showing her the jet blank ink that was as pure as kohl came.

He reached for one of her blades, gingerly placing it against an eye to perfectly etch the eyeliner past her crease. Through it all, he was dangerously close, his face merely inches from hers as he worked his artistic perfection, “This face of yours was not meant to only be dolled up just for a wedding day,” He said as he dusted a light blush across her cheeks that complemented her skin, “This was made from the ochre collected near the valley of the Dark Lords from Moraband,” He said before he grazed a thumb across her lower lip.

Her lips were tinted with a subtle gold that complemented her skin. Azar stepped away to gesture for her to look in the mirror. She would hardly recognize herself, transformed into royalty of the highest order. Azar stepped behind her, gently brushing her hair. He reached around from behind, his fingers curling against the underside of her jaw to tilt her head up enough to give her a dignified and regal posture, “Queen Ilyan Kressh,” He whispered as he gazed at her reflection with a smile.

Azar gently grasped the towel from her torso, letting slip away to reveal her body. He stepped away briefly to hold up a dress he had tailored for her by Iymril, “Come, let me dress you,” Azar offered.

 

[Ilyan]

He didn't seem to comment which was better than being... hit or choked or something comparable. That was probably a stupid suggestion, she thought to herself.

He reached out and touched her face, examining it to its fullest, and she didn't resist, watching as he began to meticulously go through each and ever piece of his "arsenal." She closed her eyes, forcing her to focus on the sensation of the brush. She hadn't had anyone else put makeup on her since she was a young girl and even as an adult she rarely used much herself.

Her mouth hung open a bit as he explained where the ink came from, pondering to herself the price that even that single vial must have cost. How much he was spending on making her look perfect. It was so different from anything she had experienced. She hadn't even realized that it was something she might have wanted until now.

He reached for her blade, and for a moment she grabbed hold of it on reflex before catching herself and pulling back, letting him take it from her sheathe. It was an instinct ingrained in her from many years that was harder to overcome than she anticipated. Ultimately, he placed it against her face, drawing the accent mark against her skin. She thought of the precarious position of the blade and how easy it would have been for him to simply carve her up then. She was helpless to stop him, although if that were his goal it would have happened long ago.

With her eyes closed, she once again focused on her other senses and in such close proximity she could smell him. Even out here in the desert, he somehow managed to smell delicious. When her eyes opened again, his face was still only inches away from hers. She could feel his breath on her skin, and although they had already shared a bed, it was this moment that was not inherently romantic that made her... confused.

She was almost thankful that he pulled back a moment later as she let out a breath filled with his scent that she didn't realize she had been holding.

She blushed ever so slightly as he spoke of her face and how it deserved more attention, leaning forward to look at the ochre.

I have never traveled to the Twin, she said. Even to most of the Sith the sacred world was one seldom traveled to and required special permissions and permits that Ilyan most certainly didn't have.

She felt as he ran his finger along her lips, setting in place the balm and her heart quickened of its own accord.

She had seen the many pieces that went on but had no real idea of how they all came together. She had no mind's eye for how she may look when it was all said and done, and as he stepped aside and she looked in the mirror, she almost didn't recognize herself. She looked every bit the Queen that she felt she was pretending to be, his arms wrapping around her, maneuvering her ever so slightly so she stood in front of the mirror, beautiful.

She felt the gentle tug as he removed her robe, letting it fall away to stand bare before him. She knew she had many scars and "blemishes" particularly along her arms that his other wife or wives wouldn't have, and although she had never been ashamed of any of them before, now as this woman who was supposed to be Queen, she felt that they nearly spoiled the look she was supposed to carry. She shifted ever so slightly, and although it was nothing he hadn't seen before, she found that faint bit of apprehension in her chest.

At least until he raised the dress in front of her. It, too, looked every bit the Queenly garb, and she obeyed, moving over at his command.

You... the words caught in her throat again, not fully certain what she wished to express. A mixture of unexplainable thoughts and emotions spun around in her head. Of course, this was all because he had to maintain his own image, right? She was a reflection on him. Yeah, that was it, there was nothing more.

You might make me feel like a Queen yet, she finally said quietly.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar pondered on Moraband. The last time he went there had been with Trael, the memory bringing a stabbing pain through his chest. None of it manifested externally and he quickly anchored himself back to the present. Back to his queen. If she blushed any more, she would resemble an eggplant. The purple flush was a delight to behold, especially because he had seen her ruthlessly cut down an enemy moments prior. Would her people ever believe that the same blade that ended so many lives helped balance a trace of eyeliner?

“You will travel to many places, my queen,” Azar said gently as he began to dress her. He slid the fabric over her torso, clasping the golden pieces in place. It would be tight and make her stand straighter than before, but it would look regal, “No slouching, dear,” He whispered near her ear from behind her with a grin, “This was tailored to your size so it definitely fits,” He said as he pulled a few more strings that would thrust her chest out a bit more.

She would notice that he angled the fabric specifically so some of her battle scars were displayed. Before she could even ask, he absentmindedly traced a finger along one of them, “They tell your story,” He said, “Becoming a Kressh does not mean the chapters that existed prior to this one are erased.”

After she was dressed, he finally got to work on those abysmal nails, thoroughly cleaning them before taking the time to polish each one a glossy, soft chiffon. Hours passed by before he was done and he wasn’t even ready yet.

For himself, he applied a light bit of kohl to his own eyes and little else. His ears were adorned in several golden earrings. He wore complementary garbs to what he put on Ilyan but without a mask. His hair was left down, hanging in luscious black curls. In truth, the Pureblood was a naturally beautiful man that only needed a few cosmetic tweaks to look ethereal.

He offered his arm to Ilyan before they stepped out into the night. For a moment Azar was left staring, gazing up at the sky, “I haven’t seen such a clear sky in years..” He muttered aloud. It only looked like this out here and the last time was when he was at Elephant Rock with Salini many years ago.

There was a roaring bonfire in the center of village square and several people were dancing already. The smell of roasted meat wafted through the air and a warm breeze kissed their skin. Several villagers openly stared at the king and queen, especially gawking at Ilyan.

“Perhaps they will learn to bow properly with time..” Azar commented breezily with the undertone of distaste in his voice. He wouldn’t weaponize his title and position tonight, but he would only tolerate the desert tribes’ antics for so long.

“Tell me about these festivals, wife,” Azar said calmly as he reached for a glass of what he hoped was simple wine. A quick sniff elicited a sour expression on his face.

 

[Ilyan]

Ilyan was unaware of the pang of regret that her comment had caused to Azar. She didn't know him well enough to read the subtlest flashes of his face and his mind was a mostly closed book to her.

What she did know was that he made her feel special. Even here, behind closed doors where it didn't seem as if it was all just an act for the populace.

He helped her slip into her perfectly tailored outfit, feeling his breath against her ear. As he cinched things down, it was quite clear that it was designed to accentuate every curve and beauty, but her eyes, of course dropped to the large scar to her side left exposed by the fabric.

She felt his finger trace along it, knowing immediately that it was one of the more egregious marks left behind, in fact, by a Kressh soldier. The thought caused a moment's question in her mind. If that man was still alive... did she now outrank him? That was a strange and almost amusing thought.

As she sat and watched him continue his meticulous work on her nails, she marveled at the detail he took with each one. The way his hands were firm and yet gentle, an odd and almost contradictory mixture of touches.

He seemed... caught up in it. She wondered if this was a secret form of meditation for him or just something he genuinely enjoyed. The two were often one and the same, she found.

When he finally finished she looked down at how her nails seemed to compliment everything else about her. Everything else he had done to make her look beautiful.

Of course, being Ilyan, she was going to try to strap on her pair of knives unless she was explicitly told not to, a quirk he would no doubt have noticed by now. It was so bad she very nearly slept with them. They were as much a part of her as her scars.

She took a seat as he prepared himself, of course being much more put together in general than she was, putting himself together smoothly and in many ways much more easily than he did with her, and yet he looked no less perfect when he was finished.

Somehow her eyes just kept... lingering and watching. She was almost studying him in a way, understanding with each passing moment that she spent around him that he was... well, he was far more complicated than she could have ever anticipated. There were layers on layers of things that she wasn't sure she would ever manage to peel back.

When he was finally ready, she took his offered arm, even placing her other hand over his arm as well in the most subtle of gesture that wasn't required for them to look the couple. You look very wonderful, she complimented him unbidden. She had spent so much time admiring him getting ready that she almost didn't verbalize the thoughts aloud when it was all said and done.

It's beautiful, isn't it? I bet you've traveled to many of them, she said. He was, after all, the noble, the King of Korriban, and the Sith Lord who traveled the stars.

Despite all the eyes on them, it wasn't that that she focused in on but his words, laughing slightly with a hint of discomfort behind it as he mentioned bowing. She knew that they wore on his patience, and she also knew that it was her job as the good wife and the representative of her people to try to soothe the tensions. And it was probably going to be a full time job for a while.

You are the first man they have ever recognized as King. They will adjust, she reassured. Or at least she hoped it was reassuring.

They sat and she saw Azar reach for a glass, and sniffing her own she shook her head.

No, no, that is not for us. That's the pregame drinks, she said with a smile, moving it to the side and standing to grab another glass further down the table, giving it a sniff and bringing it down one for each of them.

She took a small sip from his before handing it on, the smallest gesture that said she had been watching and that she knew he would not drink unless he was sure it was not poisoned. She bet her life on the hospitality of the tribe.

Much to his surprise as she had promised, this wine was actually surprisingly good. It was brought out only for special occasions and grown in only small quantities from oases like Elephant Rock. If he thought back, he would remember seeing the small patches where the berries were grown.

They said that smells took people back the most, and as he sniffed it he would have a faint memory of a time that he and Salini had snuck out with a bottle stolen from her family. If the taste alone weren't powerful enough, the nostalgia would be. Ilyan was, of course, without any knowledge of this.

Many people had already risen to begin dancing around the fire to the music that played, an upbeat and lively tune.

Now that we arrived, the eating will begin soon. It is a five course meal. There will be a short speech from the Chieftain blessing the union of our peoples, and then there will be drinking and dancing, she said. She knew that compared to the weeks-long feast of their wedding, it was a joke, but she took no shame. It was what their people - a simple people - had to celebrate.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar gave her an easy smile when she complimented him, “I know, darling, I usually do,” He said as the smile turned into a teasing smirk before they exited the ‘cottage’. Azar grimaced slightly at the question, “Truthfully, I despise flying,” He admitted. His fear of hyperspace was still not gone, “But it is something to experience at least once,” Azar said as he kept his gaze up at the stars, “I don’t feel as Kingly up there, though..”

He took the proffered wine and had to quickly collect himself. His mind went right back to Elephant Rock. He could see the lines of Salini’s face, see the shadows accenting her Massassi muscles, see the way she gazed at him with so much love and fondness. He could hear her giggles and he could hear his own teenage voice complaining about staying out too late. He was such an obedient little boy back then, always abiding by his curfew rules despite mingling with a desert girl. It was that bottle of wine that lowered all his boundaries back then, the one that pushed him into his desires - into both of their desires. It was that bottle that led to that night of passion under the stars.

“Azi! Azi please! AZI HELP ME! AZI FOR OUR CHILD! FOR OUR BABY! AZI!”

His eyes closed and opened as he exhaled, taking the drink as the agonizingly long trek through his memories passed by in the blink of an eye externally. Azar savored that taste, in the company of a woman that stood where Salini would have given anything to stand. A reality she could only dream of. If that child had been permitted the chance to be born, would they have looked just like how Azar and Ilyan’s would? His gaze lingered on the bonfire as he took a sip.

Azar was pulled back to reality as his wife described what would happen next and he smiled, “You are happy here,” He observed, sipping from his drink. It was very different from the woman she was back at the palace. It was easy to tell himself he didn’t particularly care about her happiness until he saw it now clear as day on her face. Azar still didn’t care enough to be the reason for it, but he didn’t know whether it was due to his own involuntary walls or because he was actively holding back. There were many desert tribes from whence he could have chosen a bride, so did he choose Kurvast to repent?

“Dancing after a five course meal sounds absolutely delightful,” Azar remarked dryly as they made their way over for the feast. To his dismay, they had to sit on the ground. He and Ilyan were provided with their own individual table while everyone else was served on mats on the ground in rows. Azar found this all tawdry, but he wouldn’t complain. To his surprise, the food itself was exquisite.

“Oh my..” He muttered as he bit into a succulent piece of meat, “These people certainly know how to cook. I wonder if we can hire a few of them to work at the palace,” He wondered out loud. Though the likelihood of one of them poisoning was extremely high.

The chief stood up and gave her speech as predicted. Azar calmly stared as she went over the union of Kressh and Kurvast and how that ushered in a new era of ‘managed democracy’. His jaw tightened at the subtle jab, tilting his head to gaze at his wife. His patience was running as thin as the silky fabric he put on her. He occupied himself by checking out his nails, glancing back to smile politely when the villagers applauded in their honor.

Azar was too irritated to dance, so he remained seated for now, “Go dance, wife,” He said with his usual, honeyed tone, “I want to watch,” He said as he eased back with another glass of that damning, but exquisite wine. He rolled up some marcan herbs and began to puff on them like many others gathered. At least this time if he knocked up a Kurvast it wouldn’t tear his entire world apart..

 

[Ilyan]

Ilyan didn't even notice the subtle changes in herself that betrayed she was far comfortable out here than back at the palace. It was almost a jolt as he mentioned it and he would notice for just the faintest moment a flash of fear in her eyes as she looked to him, although he didn't look... angry, and the look passed in but a moment. Still, left behind was a faint reservedness, and for a moment she thought of simply uttering another of the lies that she had rehearsed about how happy and honored she was.

The speeder had showed her she still needed to be wary, but a little bit of truth between husband and wife... might not be for the worst.

I fear that I do not represent well at court, she said, an honest and probably true fear. She didn't represent him well or her people well. She was smart and perhaps even cunning, but the learning curve of court was far too steep to put into words. She was trying to learn twenty years worth of knowledge in two weeks.

This is just somewhere where I know my place, she said. In other words, she had to act less on ceremony.

I am honored you would choose to marry me, she added a moment later, and this time the words didn't sound quite so hollow as they had before. She knew that he didn't love her, but he had been nothing but gracious to her when he most certainly wasn't obligated to be so.

As he mentioned dancing after a five course meal, she smiled. Don't forget the wine, she added with a laugh, taking another sip of her own drink.

As they ate, she scowled slightly, sensing Azar's irritation and understanding what it was about. In many ways, the sooner they got away from this place, the better. She knew they tried his patience and she knew that it wasn't unfounded that he was annoyed.

And yet his honeyed words seemed to put her more at ease. She leaned over, whispering quiet words in his ear.

I will come and retrieve you later? You can show me those moves? she asked, her breath right up against his ear. As she pulled away, her lips planted for but a moment against his cheeky, unintentionally leaving a lipstick mark there from the woman who was quite unaccustomed to wearing lipstick. All part of the act, of course. Yes, nothing more at all.

She rose to join the dancing, and although she was not nearly as skilled as Azar, she was at least naturally graceful. Of note, he would be able to watch her skill as many of the dancers picked up sticks, tapping them in rhythm against one another to the beat of the music.

She broke into a smile, laughing as one of the songs came to an end.

As Azar sat alone, another old woman approached, giving a slight bow as she did. She offered no name or title but she had that same knowing gaze. He wouldn't have seen her here earlier nor present during the fight.

My King. Thank you for your visit to the deserts. I know there are some who are hesitant still, but I look forward to your reign and our future, she said before giving another moment's pause.

And I thank you for the care of our desert rose, she said, looking back to Ilyan. I know that look on her face is not one simply put on for show. I will not take any more of your time, my King, she said, giving another respectful bow before she would begin to withdraw unless Azar stopped her.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar was silent as Ilyan expressed her gratitude for him choosing to marry her. In truth, he had nothing to say to such a sentiment. It began as a peacekeeping effort and out of all the names, Kurvast was the most significant because Kurvast had the most volatile relationship with Kressh. Did Ilyan know every side of the story? Did she know that Ashani brutally murdered his mother in front of him and desecrated her corpse while he lay broken on the ground inches away?

His negative spiral was interrupted when she kissed his cheek. There was a look of visible surprise in his golden eyes as he glanced at her, his hand coming up to gingerly touch where she kissed. His gaze lingered on her as she stepped away to dance. Between the drinking and the herbs, Azar began to relax, his earlier irritation melting away. The music was pleasing and the ambiance was jovial, he could stand to forgive the earlier slight. He had a feeling Ilyan wouldn’t let any insults pass and he decided to hold back from taking any drastic actions.

Azar watched her in silence, admiring the graceful way she moved. The dress highlighted all her curves, and the fabric moved fluidly with each spin and turn. He could see her smile, the pure joy she felt at being here. Others engaged her in the dance, and he saw a few men eagerly approach. Azar rolled his eyes, deciding Ilyan was likely to carve up and serve them their own balls if they tried anything suspicious.

The Pureblood was in the process of blowing out a cloud of spiced smoke when an elderly woman approached him. He gave her a blank stare while drawing again from the marcan joint. At the end of the gratitude, he gave her a thin lipped smile and waited patiently for her to go away. Azar looked back at the dancers when a nagging thought poked at the back of his mind.

That old woman.

He had seen that face before. Azar’s eyes narrowed as his mind once again rifled through the annals of his memories. Her face flashed across his past and he could vividly remember this face from the day Ashani attacked his fortress.

“Wait!” Azar called out, sitting up. However, the woman disappeared within the crowds. A pang of anxiety shot through him as he looked around himself. He was buzzed, he was spiced, and he was potentially sitting in the middle of an ambush. No, it was just his paranoia. That old woman was just an old woman. He was mistaken. And even if he wasn’t, surely Ashani wouldn’t be stupid enough to pull something now.

Deciding to skip out on the dancing, Azar rose from his seat, trying to catch Ilyan’s eye. Seeing her fully happy and engrossed in her dancing, he shrugged and walked back towards the cottage. With everyone back at the party, it was just him alone on a dark path back. He was a Sith Lord, he had nothing to fear. Why, then, did he feel that prickling feeling along the back of his neck?

 

[Ilyan]

Ilyan was completely caught up in the dancing as the interaction with the old woman happened. It was no mistake that the woman had waited until Ilyan wasn't there because it was Ilyan that would have been able to identify her. After all, she was Kurvast... family.

Perhaps the old woman had meant every word she had said or maybe she wanted to unnerve Azar.

Alas, Ilyan saw none of it, smiling and dancing until she felt almost woozy from a mix of alcohol and spinning.

It always seemed that the men who approached Ilyan found themselves in the proverbial arms of another woman within a few seconds, a testament to her apparent evasive ability on the dance floor. Azar may not have come out to join her, but she wasn't going to push her luck.

It wasn't until the song finished and she looked over in the hope of finding Azar's eye to lure him out to the dance floor that she realized he was gone. She frowned a moment and then bit her lip to stifle a laugh at the thought that he was probably just out relieving himself... trying not to chuckle at the fact that she was absolutely sure that the - for all intents and purposes - outhouse was not going to be to his liking.

She returned to one more song only to find after a minute or two more that he hadn't returned. At this point, the smile turned to a frown and she started moving to his seat, placing a hand to the cushion to feel that it was no longer warm.

She looked around, trying to spot him on the dance floor and growing confused. Is he upset? I know he was unhappy about the speech but... oh no, she thought to herself, her thoughts starting to spiral as she expected she would have to contend with him being unhappy. As gentle as he had been with her in the tent, she knew he was still a Sith Lord she was married to and not just a King of Korriban. She had no idea what he was like when he was angry, and that familiar spike of fear began to rise in her as she almost frantically left the feast to go try and find him.

---​

While it wouldn't be at all apparent to Azar, what he was experiencing could more or less by attributed to a bad trip. And particularly Force-users on bad trips often had the worst of it. The reality between this world and the next was already blurred and herbs could only make it that much worse.

First it was Ashani, standing with a malicious look of hatred in her eye, armed with her great sword. Then he would see Ilyan standing just to the side, her blood blades glowing the red, vicious fury and hatred in her eye.

I can't believe I had to let you touch me. I'd do it again if it meant we got to kill you again. Goodbye husband! she sneered, proving true all the fears he had about her waiting to betray and kill him.

They would lunge at him, dissipating after a single attack. The worst was yet to come. Before him was Salini, belly torn open and still connected to her was all of Azar's guilt given metaphysical form.

You left us to die, she said, the little botchling trying to lunge at him and eat his feet, perhaps it would have been comical if it wasn't so utterly horrifying.

And then as quickly as it came, it ended.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

His head was throbbing and he felt dehydrated. The combination of vices did him no favors, and his anxiety was mounting. Sometimes he lost control of the Force when he was in a stupor like this, electricity dancing between his fingers. Azar rubbed his eyes as he glanced up and saw Ashani. He shouldn’t have been surprised - after all, he did show her mercy back in Murzana. Seeing Ilyan there, however, was rather unpleasant. His lips curled into a sneer as he tried to focus, hearing her words. He felt the heat on his cheek from where she kissed it.

He studied Ilyan, his eyes narrowing as she was hunched forward in a combat form with her blades. Azar gave a lazy point with his finger her way, “Your dress….is far too tight for you to be bending like that and not tearing at the seams..” He said with a drawl, his eyes squinting. He stood there unmoving as the women charged him for an attack, still not hearing that expected tear of fabric. Azar was that confident in his tailoring and couture that he wouldn’t budge, staring bleary eyed with his arms crossed over his chest.

The next trick, however, impacted him far worse than he would have liked. Salini was real, very real. He saw her corpse all over again because these were actual memories. Azar dropped to his knees, exhaling with shuddered breaths as he saw that grotesque fetus crawling towards him. He didn’t see it for what it was - instead he looked directly into the face of his guilt.

“I am fulfilling your dreams, Salini,” He whispered hoarsely as he stared at that wretched little thing, “I have to let you go…”

Why was this here? He was suddenly hit with images and pulses of the place where Salini had died. Visions like these only appeared so vividly when there was unfinished business. Had her death and the loss of the child created a tear in the Force where it happened? Was there a nexus there that needed to be cleansed?

By the time Ilyan arrived, Azar had crawled back inside the cottage. He was drenched in sweat, seated on the floor with his back against the wall. He was hot to touch as if he had a severe fever, his breathing labored. Guilt ravaged him and he was left weak and empty. He couldn’t change the past. He had to forgive himself for what happened and move on. Azar couldn’t do that until he went on a pilgrimage back to the site of her death. Where the blood of Kressh and Kurvast first joined and broke so tragically.

How could he do that alone? How could he do that without telling Ilyan?

Without telling her the truth?

 

[Ilyan]

Ilyan moved through the camp quickly, using the Force to reach out in an attempt to sense Azar's presence, and she was surprised when a wave of turmoil and distress hit her. It wasn't anger, it was something else, and that would have given her pause if it weren't so dire.

Instead, she pushed on, trying to slot the pieces of the puzzle together in her mind without success. She burst back into their cottage, seeing Azar lying in a dazed stupor, halfway to dead on the ground and clearly delirious. She wasn't even sure he would register that she was there.

Had he been poisoned? Was this something else? For just a moment, she could almost hear Ashani's voice in her head.

Kill him and be done with it. Avenge my sister and free our people, she said. For the briefest moment, her hand brushed against the hilt of her blade, but as she did, she thought of the last time she had touched the weapon. The way that it faintly drew lines in her makeup. She thought of the commitment she had made. In a flash of passing moment, she brushed the thought aside and moved forward, reaching out to place a hand against his head. She felt him burning up with heat.

Azar? Azar what happened? she asked. It was the first time since they had been married that she actually used his name, she realized.

She began to look him over the for cuts or scrapes, ways by which a poison could have been introduced to his blood, but she found nothing. So she did the next best thing that she could.

She ran outside and returned a moment later with a bucket filled with water. Such a precious resource on this planet, and yet something she didn't even think twice about expending if only to cool him.

She put a cup to his lips with one hand and a damp cloth to his forehead with the other. The what and why would have to wait. She sat there with him, letting him lean against her until he either got better or drifted off into sleep.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

It took a moment for him to grasp onto the thread Ilyan threw out to him in the form of his name. These days very few people called him Azar. Only his wives and Vossari had the privilege. To the Sith Order he was Arcanos, to the Sith, he was King Kressh. The significance was enough to reorient him back to reality and remind him that he was in a cottage with his new wife out in the desert. He exhaled softly, sipping from the refreshing water.

Water?

“They let you take this?” Azar croaked out, managing a tired smile. He coughed a few times before sitting up straight, his head throbbing painfully.

“That festivities are still going,” He reminded Ilyan, “Go enjoy yourself,” Azar said as he shakily got to his feet, “I think I just need to..” He unceremoniously plopped into the bed, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. He knew what he had to do and where he had to go.

Had Salini meant to curse him? Or had that wound been created from the trauma of what happened? Was it because it was his blood? Was it because it was a sin to the highest degree? There were countless questions, and they all left him reeling.

The cold sweats subsided, but he was left feeling weak. Azar half wondered if he would be killed the moment he closed his eyes. Could he truly trust anyone here? Could he even trust his wife? He was amidst his enemies. Even at the speech they didn’t hesitate to take jabs at what he was trying to build. He stayed his hand and showed mercy, but at what point did it turn to weakness? His thoughts went back to Trael - a clear evidence of Azar placing his faith in a man that desecrated and undermined it. What evidence was there that Ilyan and her lowly kin weren’t capable of the same? If Trael, a man that loved him, could harm him like that, what was stopping Ilyan, a woman that likely despised him at her core from doing it?

In that moment, he felt as he did when he first ventured out into the wider galaxy. When he didn’t have his name, when he had nothing to call his own. When he was alone. Was he truly any different today? Even with all the titles, did he have any loyalty from anyone without it being transactional and conditional?

 

[Ilyan]

Ilyan was all serious and concerned looks as he talked about the water she had taken, but the concern wasn't about the water, it was about him.

Not sure why. Why should you care? she asked herself.

I didn't ask, she said simply, that brazen streak he had seen in her several times now momentarily rearing its head. The side of her that he saw was far different than most, and that wasn't without cause. She knew that ensuring he was pleased with her was now the central preoccupation of her life, and there was still that piece of her that feared him. That piece that feared his wrath.

They are, she agreed matter-of-factly, and made absolutely no movement to leave.

He flopped back onto the bed, and she stood there watching him for a moment, knowing he needed to rest. She could sense... apprehension from him. He offered no explanation of what had happened, and she didn't pry further despite that gnawing desire within her.

She could still hear the sounds of the music playing in the distance, and she glanced between the door and her exhausted husband. She stood a moment feeling... uncertain. Should she join him on the bed? Return to the party? Turn in for her own sleep?

After several moments more, she turned and headed for the door, though likely to Azar's surprise, her presence didn't fade. Whenever he finally rose be it minutes or hours later, he would find that she had not returned to the party but instead was just outside the door to the hut, kneeling on her knees in the sand, simply standing guard over her husband.

Her eyes were closed as her vigil passed, letting the Force and the energies of the camp flow through her.

Her breaths were slow, but she appeared to be quite at peace. She wished she could find this same level of certainty at court, and her mind began to churn through the two week feast that had been their wedding. It had been a two week affair of admittedly the greatest food she had ever had in quantities she couldn't believe, but also mocking looks, glances, and laughs. She was not the fool others believed her to be and the vague jabs about the desert rats in the palace hadn't been lost on her.

Things were so much easier when she was here, but even as she thought about it, she realized that things were... clear. She would learn to lie and give fake smiles and manipulate others because - though it pained her to admit it - the days of her blades being the solution to her problems were probably closing.

The irony of that thought while she sat guard with her blades at her side was not lost on her. No, I will not let my skills waver and fall. I was born and trained to lead armies, and if that is what I can do for my house - House Kressh - then I will, she thought to herself. It was... a strange thing. It felt strange still to consider House Kressh her family, the people she had fought and killed only months ago, but it mattered not how she felt. It simply was and so she would protect them as her family. This was her way.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar didn’t even realize when or how he fell asleep, but he was out for several hours. It was not quite yet sunrise when he stirred again, feeling his energy returning. He felt his normal strength once more, the Force powerfully churning without that drain he felt earlier. He bolted upright, glancing around himself. Azar realized he was alone, but he vaguely recalled Ilyan not joining him in bed at any point. He shouldn’t have been surprised - they were cordial at best.

The Pureblood changed out of the nice clothes he was in that had been drenched in sweat, switching into a set of cozy robes. Azar figured Ilyan chose instead to spend the night with her people, perhaps even in the arms of another man. While it wasn’t permitted for her, he was entirely indifferent to it unless anyone else made a scandal about it. Azar wouldn’t pretend to comprehend the gender double standards that were entrenched in pureblood culture.

To his surprise, he found her just outside the door to the ‘cottage’. She had her weapons out, poised like a sentry in meditation. She would be able to tell he was there right away because she never truly let her guard down.

“You stayed out here?” Azar queried, genuinely puzzled, “You could have been with your friends..” He trailed off, glancing out towards the empty camp that was the village. At this time of night it was a ghost town, an eerie silence befalling the site that was out in the middle of the desert.

“Or you could have slept in the bed,” Azar said with a quirked brow as he leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed.

 

[Ilyan]

Ilyan listened as the noise of the feast slowly died down. No one came by to check on the pair, perhaps assuming they were further consummating the union of desert and nobility after a successful day.

She heard the music eventually come to a close, and she even looked up throughout her watch and tried to count the stars overhead. She thought back to what Azar had said about disliking travel off world and about how it made him feel less Kingly. She wasn't sure how that could be, though. Whatever she may have thought of him, there was no question that he was a force to be reckoned with and she doubted there were many anywhere in the galaxy who could have shunned him if they wanted to.

She thought of how he said that she would travel many places, and the idea was just bizarre to her. She had never even left Korriban before let alone seen all the places she had heard stories of. It couldn't be her.

Eventually, she heard the sounds of him stirring and he appeared at the doorway a few moments later.

Then who would have stood guard while you slept? she asked simply, realizing after she said it that she hoped he didn't take offense at the implication that he needed guarding.

You were unwell. I didn't want to join you without permission, and I... didn't want to leave you alone. I am your wife, so I took watch, she said, rising to her feet.

No small amount of the night had been spent thinking about him and she even thought at one point she heard him muttering Salini's name in his sleep, which stuck in her mind for an even longer time.

She dared to risk just a bit of prying. You feel better? What happened? she asked.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar quirked a brow at her question, “The security detail that came with us,” He answered dryly, though amusement glinted in his eye. After all, they had Massassi and Kissai on guard as needed. Nonetheless, he did find the gesture of her personally taking on the duty endearing.

“Permission?” Azar queried, “You are my wife. You can join me in bed whenever you please,” He said with a smile, “Come inside, it’s very cold out here,” Azar said as he gestured her in. The desert may have been scalding hot during the day, but it was equally cold at night. His breath came out in wisps and he wasn’t sure how Ilyan had remained sitting out with the temperature dropping so much.

The Pureblood poured a cup of water for Ilyan, handing it to her before he walked over to sit down at the edge of the bed. He shouldn’t have been surprised at her question, but he hesitated all the same. He thought of all the ways he could simply close her out of his personal business. After all, this marriage was a contract and he was skeptical of her kind gestures outside of simply attempting to raise her chances of influencing him. On the other hand, there were gaps in his knowledge in the ways of her people and cleansing the site of Salini’s death would require rituals he wasn’t familiar with.

Azar exhaled and looked at the wall across from him, “Your people refer to it as a..breach,” He said, knowing it would rattle her just to hear of it, “I… may have unwittingly created one in the northern dunes a few miles past Elephant Rock,” He said, wondering if it would register for her that it was the exact location of her cousin’s death, “I have been haunted by its existence since I set foot back into Korriban. I do not know the rituals to cleanse and close the breach.”

He said nothing after that, his head hanging in shame. It was an ugly thing to create a breach and considered some of the vilest of crimes among the desert tribes. It was an unnatural perversion of the Force, manifesting only in the presence of the worst traumas and cruelties. For Azar, it was his blatant cowardice and the pain Salini endured despite having pure, unconditional love in her heart and the desperate desire to protect her child. Breaches acted like a curse, haunting those that created them and driving them to insanity over time. Since Azar was back on the planet where it happened, the curse was far more potent.

 

[Ilyan]

Ilyan knew that she should have been able to join him at any time, but there was something strange about it. He had told her she didn't have to warm his bed except to create their expected heir, but equally she didn't want to do so without his desire. It was... a weird and contractual marriage they had entered into and she was still ascertaining exactly how she was supposed to act.

Still, she took the statement to heart, accepting that she was more or less welcome whenever she chose.

Of course, she agreed. Yes, that was very logical. She was his wife. It wasn't like they hadn't been sleeping in the same bed back at the palace.

She came back inside and as she dropped some of her focus on the Force, the biting cold of the night air seemed to nip at her skin all the more. She ran a hand over her skin and rubbed her arms, wandering inside and wrapping herself up in a heavy blanket until it was pulled tightly around herself. She'd kill for a cup of tea right now.

She took the offered water with a quiet thanks and took a seat on the end of the bed, focused intently on him in a way that was almost comically like a small child waiting for a bedtime story when she was all wrapped up in her blanket.

When he started talking, her mouth fell open a bit as he mentioned a breech, and she was left with way, way more questions than she'd even had earlier.

Her eyebrows pulled down into a frown as he mentioned it was at Elephant Rock. He cursed Elephant Rock!? The one place I said I wanted to go to be happy!? she thought to herself before realizing that that had only been this morning. No, whatever had happened predated that conversation, and he had been there before.

She watched the way his head hung down as he finished, and she realized... she could sense it in the Force, too. He was... ashamed? Something had happened, and she knew that in order to lift the curse she would have to know more. She also knew that flinging herself into the fray of this conversation was probably not the way.

That is... old magic you're talking about, she said. The type of old magic that wasn't something you just controlled. Breaches were created not by choice but by a powerful and unintentional combination of devastatingly potent emotion and a component that no one had ever quite figured out.

Some say it's foundational magic. As constant and binding as gravity and chemistry, she said. She also knew that the Force meant both gravity and chemistry could be defied.

She was silent for a long moment, thinking about what this meant. Thinking about visiting Kesis. Thinking about how Azar could use that. Thinking about what would happen if they showed up on his doorstep with an army of guards. Thinking about what had caused this, and thinking about whether Azar deserved to have it lifted.

There was something... something in the way his head hung low that for just a moment she didn't see King Azar Kressh of Korriban, Liberator of Murzana, Conqueror of the Desert, Sith Lord, Darth Arcanos, and Master of the Arcane. She saw... just Azar the Sith who had suffered some trauma and... her husband.

To say she had hesitations was an understatement, but after a long moment she spoke.

There is a man - a Kissai and Shaman - who may be able to help us, she said, clear hesitation in her voice.

He is a hermit and very... skittish. We would have to go alone, she said. It was asking him for a measure of trust in her. Trust she wasn't sure he had.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Of course he didn’t have that trust, but he also knew he had no choice. Azar was a powerful Sith Lord in his own right, but he saw first hand that some of this old magic could deplete him of his strength in an instant. The King was silent for a long moment after Ilyan gave her suggestion, searching her eyes for any deceit. He could intrude her thoughts if he pleased, but that would only serve to undo every painstaking step he had taken to unite his people thus far. Azar had to be different. He had to be better.

“We will leave in the morning, then,” Azar declared, lying back down in the bed, “Join me if you wish, Ilyan,” He said, using her name in a rare instance. If she did choose to join him, he would slide an arm around her and pull her close. There was no love there, but he could still remind her that she was his wife.

Azar gazed up at the ceiling, his mind wandering off far beyond the reaches of Korriban and all across the galaxy, “I feel safer with you at my side,” He admitted with a quiet whisper without looking at her. It was a funny thing for him to say considering how powerful he was. He didn’t elaborate in the sense he meant, but he believed in what he said.

 

[Ilyan]

Ilyan just nodded as he declared that they would leave in the morning. She began changing into sleeping attire when he offered for her to join him, and she nodded, sliding into the bed next to him.

It was strange and perhaps even comforting as he reached his arm around her. There was no one watching them here, and there was no lie to be perpetuated. It was a simple gesture and although it wasn't truly born out of love, it was perhaps born out of some sort of affection? Or perhaps it wasn't. Maybe it was a more simple fact like possession or... well, at its core it was just partnership, wasn't it? The two of them - whatever else they may be - were partners now, and they and perhaps even their fates were bound together.

Whatever the reason was, there was a comfort in being nestled up against him, the feeling of his heart beating against her back and the heat of his body keeping away the cold desert air.

She heard what he said, and she wasn't sure if it was true, but she chose to believe it. She chose to believe that he truly enjoyed her being at his side because it was a nice fantasy.

She just squeezed his hand wrapped around her, the silent gesture encompassing her so well. There were no words to be spoken and no questions for her to ask. Just the silent squeeze that said both "thank you" and "I'm here."

---​

The sun began to rise the next morning, and she slid silently out of bed, her bare feet touching against the floor of the cottage as she started to prepare herself for the day ahead. She gave a moment's pause in regret as she knew that she would have to wash away the beauty of the night before, and for just the faintest moment lingered on when she might be like this again: Queenly.

Of course, she knew that Azar had no time to make her look beautiful every day, although she found her mind drawn back to the night before. The hours he had spent so close to her.

This is silly, Ilyan. Remember your place. It's your job to keep the peace and make him happy, not the other way around, she thought to herself. And she had been falling short in the latter at least. No matter what anyone said, it wasn't just her job to see to it that he had a child. To discover how to satisfy all of his desires.

Tonight, she thought to herself.

She left to take her own wash - knowing it was important for her to still remain clean and Queenly even for a trip into the desert - before returning to the cottage.

I am ready when you are, husband. I imagine you likely have questions about this trip, she ventured, opening the door for him to inquire of her while he finished getting himself ready.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar was notorious for oversleeping. His lovers usually had to endure him remaining passed out well past mid day and refusing to go an entire day without at least one nap. Out in the desert, however, his nerves and general distrust got the best of him. The moment Ilyan shifted in his arms, his eyes popped open and he was awake for the day.

He sat up and rubbed his temples, groggy from having a night of broken sleep. The botching haunted his dreams a few times over, but there was no attack like the one that left him weak outside the cottage.

Likely to Ilyan’s surprise, in an effort to save time, Azar actually stepped out to join her for a brisk shower. He wore a grimace the entire time, but one could consider it almost intimate. She would have had a hard time trying not to laugh at his comically grumpy expression and the way he was hunched over hugging himself.

Azar was dressed for a trek, choosing something simple and modest instead of his usual ornate fashion. He gathered up just a few bags to bring into a single speeder - a travesty in its own right. His military forces remained behind and Azar simply told the village chief he and his wife would take a day trip to tour the sights.

Before long, they were in a speeder headed towards this shaman, “I do have questions,” Azar finally answered, “Number one of which.. Why do the most useful and niche sorcerers end up as antisocial hermits?” He mused aloud, “This man could probably make a hefty profit if he sold his services for closing up breaches,” Azar said dryly.

 

[Ilyan]

Ilyan had found the entire exercise of Azar showering with her to be both comical and slightly endearing. He looked miserable, and she had done her absolute best not to smile or laugh. Still, he would see the slight glint in her eye as she watched him getting ready.

She had strapped on her knives and donned clothes that were far more comfortable for her and with the proper supplies, the two had set out into the desert.

They are haunted by all of the knowledge they possess. Plagued by the nightmares of the sins they have scrubbed away, she said, trying to take something that probably had a hint of the truth to it and make it as absolutely over the top edgy as she could.

She glanced sideways at him after saying it, trying to suppress a grin. It was a bit of a rarity for him to see her joke at all, but she seemed to be in slightly higher spirits despite the weight of the task that they were going to undertake.

She did manage to bite her tongue asking him if he was going to turn into a hermit someday. He was an incredibly powerful sorcerer, but she wasn't willing to press her luck by making such a comment when the nature of their relationship was still... in flux.

She said nothing for a time longer, her mind wandering off to Elephant Rock.

He will need to know what happened to create the breach, she warned. She wanted desperately to ask him and pry, but for all she knew he was going to send her out of the room whenever the time came for the telling. She didn't know when the breach had been created, but she didn't imagine it could have been recent, right? Maybe during the march across the desert? Maybe he and Ashani had had some face off there. But even that wouldn't account for a breach. No, it had to be a broken promise, a deep pain, or some other vile action that created it.

Azar would be able to sense that she wanted to ask, but she didn't. She held her tongue as they traveled on.