DYNASTY ( sw.. ) ✔

o6. battle of ganto..

"There is no outside threat..."

"What did you say?" Lorna stopped walking and spun around, meeting the confused eyes of several people, there to keep her safe. She sought though the comfort of a single pair of blue eyes, those of Luke Skywalker. And he stared at her, mildly confused, but polite enough not to look away.

They all stopped in the middle of a long hall with a tall ceiling, carpeted with the colors of Vonath. The walls were lit with flickering lights and buckets of flowers spread aromas into open atmosphere. Somewhere, outside, behind all the columns, the waves of the sea crashed soundly onto the shores filled with rocks.

"We didn't say anything, Your Highness," the Captain of the guards spoke in the name of all present. It was himself, four soldiers and the Jedi that has arrived on the behalf of the New Republic that stood before the Queen.

Lorna frowned, briefly looking around. She straightened her back again within a blink and nodded. "Apologies," she turned back to walking, in front of her entire escort. "It must be my headaches returning... Anyway, I would like a word with Master Skywalker, alone."

It wasn't just her head that was hurting though. A frivolous fire of pain reached into her wrists too and Lorna felt as if she wouldn't be able to use her hands soon. So she fidgeted them trying to keep them anything but still for that extra stimulus of movement.

Her hair was brushed through and her curls were tamed down to a gentle flow, lengthened to her waist. She wore a crown, but she must have taken no notice of it until she lead the Jedi to her office and she froze in front of the mirror wall.

Lorna was momentarily startled by her own appearance: she was wearing make-up and a traditional Vonathian dress, both things that seemed normal, yet utterly odd on her. She shook her head, ever so light and normality won her over.

Luke Skywalker entered the room, awkwardly closing the door behind him. Despite her sudden dizziness, the safety this man gave her was no strange feeling and she stepped forward with a smile.

Affectionately, Lorna observed Luke's well defined posture. His black robes were neat and clean and his blonde hair was burshed back, and out of his face, as much as possible. He kept his hands behind his back, but somehow, she knew he was wearing gloves.

"No one can see us here, you can drop the serious act now, Luke."

Familiarity. Lorna thought that instinct was truthful and she believed it with all her might because it brought her peace. But the panic on Luke's features did not confirm silence to her.

He looked away, not approaching from his position next to the door. He was frozen there like a statue, as emotionless as it too. "There is no act, your Highness. I am here on the behalf of the New Republic to escort you to the Senate Meeting. I suggest we leave at once..."

"Luke," she interrupted, mildly irritated. Lorna felt her headache grtting bolder, but she made another step forward. "That's enough. Stop playing..."

"Your Highness," his brows furrowed down in a distinguished worry, a formal one. "Are you feeling alright?"

It was easy to tell the difference between sincere worry and the concern that is birthed from duty alone. The latter was dry, ought to leave your heart sore, or in Lorna's case, so confused that her mind felt like it would explode altogether.

She staggered back, hands coming over her ears and she shut her eyes closed too.

"There is no outside threat. The war came from inside. Deep inside the earth. From the caverns..."

The clink of her crown as it fell down on the ground was what made Lorna open her eyes, a futile attempt to see the source of that mysterious voice bringing her pain. But what she opened her eyes to was not what she hoped: there was no clarity, just fog and a dreadful smell.