#aaaaaaaaaaaand here's the MF!AU equivalent of the Emperor's Fortress angst

[storyknitter]

Confession

A heaviness filled the room in Castle Organa. Despair and loss filtered through the air like dust on the breeze.

“I think it’s time I stop this insanity,” Theron murmured. He sat hunched over the desk in his room, maps and lists strewn about, his head buried in his hands.

Vassanna looked up from mending her gambeson, uncertain she had heard him correctly. “Stop what?” she asked. Unease settled in the pit of her stomach: she had a bad feeling about this.

“We are out-manned and out-weaponed.” He looked up at her, dropping his hands to the table. “The king has servants and spies everywhere. Our every step has been dogged by his people and death has followed in our wake.”

The destruction of Uphrades last week had hit them both hard: the people of the town had joyously welcomed them, offering food and a place to stay. Eager to aid the prince in his bid to remove the Shadow King from power, a small feast to laud their future liberators had been hastily prepared and enjoyed by all.

The king had sent his armies and mages to destroy the town a day later, and only by the sacrifice of the innkeeper were she and Theron able to escape alive.

“What are you saying?” Vassanna asked softly.

“I’m saying that I will no longer lead this rebellion.” Theron’s response was dull and hollow, his forlorn gaze reflecting the gloom in his heart. “I cannot bear more losses for my sake.”

She had learned during their travels that, though he was witty and irreverent, he had a gentle heart; it seemed this new grief had broken it. 

What could she say that would make it better? Nothing she could do could bring those people back. The only thing to do was hope that they were in a better place and make their deaths worth it, make it worth something by removing the Shadow King.

“Theron, do you truly believe that if you stop fighting, there will be no more losses, no more death by the king’s hand?”

“Perhaps.”

To her mind, ‘perhaps’ wasn’t good enough; to justify stepping aside, he needed to be completely certain. 

“How many lives has he destroyed to remain in power? It will only continue!” She stood, setting aside her gambeson, trying to control her anger and frustration; the only ones who stood to benefit from the Shadow King remaining in power were the small group of cronies who did his bidding without question.

“Not if I tell the kingdom to—

“You would have us bow to him? Never!” she snarled, pacing back and forth, stalking the room. “Someone else will step up to lead if need be, but you are the rightful king.” Her finger pointed at him accusingly. “You are the one the people will rally behind.”

“Yes, they will, and they have,” he hissed. “And they’ve paid the price for it—too high a price!”

“No, you can’t give up!” she cried. “You must do this. Don’t you see what lengths he’s willing to go to, just to remain in power?” She gestured around, pointing out her damaged armor, the lists of dead and captured, the maps depicting the spread of the vile king’s influence, before dropping her hands to her sides. 

“You’re our only hope,” she whispered.

“It’s too much.” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “I’m one person. How can I hope to fix all that he’s destroyed, all that he’s corrupted?” 

“With help! From me, from advisors and others that you trust. From the Sentinels. No matter what you think, there is no way on this earth that you can possibly be a worse king than Tenebris,” Vassanna said, choking on the lump in her throat. Did Theron truly have so little faith in himself? He must see reason. Surely he knew all the evil deeds the king had done to those in this kingdom.

“Will you murder people who speak out against you?” she asked. Theron looked aghast as she continued, the volume of her voice growing with each question. “What about to stay in power: who will you kill to keep yourself as ruler? What about the innocents who happen to be in the way? Will you threaten them, murder them, if they become inconvenient?”

She was shouting now, shaking with rage at Tenebris and his crimes, as well as desperation: Theron couldn’t walk away now, their people needed him on the throne instead of the current monster. She needed the Shadow King gone and a kinder, more honorable ruler in place. Theron had been her hope that it could happen, and that she could help bring about change for the better. “Would you turn to blood magic, twisting people to your will? You would abandon these people who need you because you fear for their safety. What safety do they have now?”

“Blood magic?” Theron’s voice was faint, shock and surprise clear on his features. “How do you know he uses blood magic?”

Her stomach dropped and she froze: she had revealed too much. What parts of her past could she tell him and still keep his respect? He was too clever by far; he’d see through any lies she tried to spin and would want a full explanation.

“Vassanna?” His voice grew hard, insistent. “How do you know?”

Memories she’d tried desperately to forget flooded her view. Their accompanying screams of pain and terror drowned out his words, blending into the ringing in her ears. Shame and horror swept through her. Oh, gods, he can’t know, she couldn’t tell him—what would he think of her? She couldn’t meet his gaze, her vision fixed firmly in the past.

“It hurt, you know.” The words slipped out in a whisper before she could stop them, bottled up as they had been for so long. “Fighting his control, trying to break free. It hurt.”

Her voice broke. She wrapped her arms tight around herself to keep from shattering along with it. If he must know what happened, she could at least reassure him that she had tried to resist, to fight back.

Oh stars above, it was too much. She couldn’t breathe.

Crossing quickly to the open window in his room, she rested her shaking hands on the sill, taking large gulps of fresh air.

Just tell him and get it over with; that was the only thing to do. Squaring her shoulders, Sanna took one more deep breath and gathered her courage.

“A year or so ago, Provost Marshall Tol Braga and the Sentinels received credible intelligence that two of the king’s closest advisors would be vulnerable at Arkanis Fortress, where they had gathered to plot against us.” The words came out wooden, stilted, but she confessed them nonetheless. “A small strike team was dispatched to capture or kill them, capture preferred. I was selected for the team, which was a great honor. But by the time we realized our informant had been compromised, it was too late.”

She spoke of her team: caught in the trap and subsequently ensnared by the Shadow King's blood magic. How he had bent them all to his will. How she had struggled in vain for months, committing foul deeds as he commanded.

How she was broken.

How one of the King’s own men had severed the hold on her and helped her escape. How her new mission became the rescue of her lost team.

(She left out the part where, though she had succeeded in bringing her team home, none of them had quite regained the complete trust and acceptance enjoyed before their capture. The bond joining the four of them to the Sentinels was tarnished now, rusted and worn thin in places.)

Leaning against the windowsill, Vassanna watched as the sun set, a perfect reflection of her life with the Sentinels—and her time with Theron: ending in a blinding blaze. The silence weighed heavy between them.

Setting aside dreams of atonement, of retribution against Tenebris by placing his rival on the throne herself, she cleared her throat.

“The Organa lands are well-protected, the castle doubly so. You’ll be safe here until Orgus can send a replacement guard.” Somehow she kept her voice steady, still avoiding Theron’s gaze.

“Replacement?”

She couldn’t quite read the tone in his voice, but didn’t trust herself to look at him.

“It may take him a few days, but as I said, you’ll be safe here. And Orgus will understand your request for a new bodyguard.” Sanna swallowed hard. “As will I.”

“Why do I need a new guard? Are you quitting?”

She turned around, confused. “Did you not hear anything I said to you?”

“Yes. I heard that you were captured by the enemy while on a dangerous mission, you were made to comply against your will.” Theron ticked off the list on his fingers as he continued. “You managed to escape, went back to free your cohort, and are still one of the best damn Sentinels we’ve got.” He shifted his weight to the side, crossing his arms on his chest. “What part did I get wrong?”

Theron left out the part where he wanted to hunt down each of her captors, to hurt them as they’d hurt her. He didn’t think it would help the situation, though.

She stared blankly ahead, confusion writ plain on her features, and he continued with his reassurance.

“Orgus trusts you with both my life and the future of this kingdom. That alone would have been more than enough for me.” He took a slow step towards her—she looked as skittish as a deer—and took her cool hands, still trembling, into his own. “I have trusted you with my life since I met you,” Theron continued softly, “and that trust only grows each day.”

It wasn’t often that a person bared their soul, especially so painful a portion, to another so completely and he’d never felt so humbled.

“I’m not certain that ‘thank you’ is the right thing to say, but thank you for trusting me in return.” He ran a hand up her arm, thumb brushing her shoulder in encouragement. She still wouldn’t meet his gaze and concern—worry—tightened its grip on his chest. He cradled her face in his hand. “Vassanna?”

“It doesn’t bother you?” she whispered, brows furrowed. “How can it not bother you?”

“Well, of course it bothers me,” Theron started, but paused as her features went blank, her jaw clenching. Had she flinched away from his remark? Choosing his next words cautiously, he forged ahead. “It bothers me that you suffered through that ordeal, that you were hurt.”

Sanna glanced up finally, finally and he found surprise in her wide violet eyes. Stars above, he could get lost in those eyes, but now they were glistening, filling with tears. Words failed him, and in their stead, he pressed his lips gently, tenderly to her forehead before pulling her close and holding her safe in his arms.