ILLUMINATE • din djarin

PART TWENTY-FOUR

The walk to Venelia's room from the throne room was familiar. A walk she had made countless times in her 26 years of life, a pathway she had probably run many times too. If the floor itself wasn't polished stone, there would be tread lines from her footsteps.

But this particular walk was silent, the only sound was the echo of footsteps in the empty hallways as she was escorted by Altair and two stormtroopers. Still cuffed, Venelia kept her face impassive. She could see Altair to her left out the corner of her eye, looking at her, as if he was on the verge of saying something to her. But she would not look at him.

She already missed the comforting presence of the Mandalorian, though she knew their separation was only temporary. To have his presence replaced by that of Altair's was unfavourable, to say the least.

They soon arrived at the double doors of her room. Venelia watched Altair step forward to open them and then met his gaze as he gestured for her to enter first. She tore her eyes away from him as she pressed her lips together and walked into her room.

Though it had been months, nothing had changed. It was as if no one had come in here since she left. Her bedding still had the creases from when she had reclined on it before the dinner that had turned her whole life upside down. She saw one of her dressing table drawers still ajar, from when she had rifled through it for hidden credits upon her escape. Being in this room now felt like travelling back in time. She approached the window that overlooked the castle gardens and noted the lack of troopers out there and how unruly the plants looked. The hedges that lined pathways had overgrown, the grass knee length and the trees hadn't been pruned at all. The entire castle had been slowly descending into ruins. She heard the roar of an engine fly overhead, and she looked up to see the Razor Crest fly over the castle before it soared out of view for now. She knew once it was out of the range of Imperial scanners, the Mandalorian would circle back, and land somewhere towards the inland villages to wait for morning.

"Stand guard outside and wait for my orders," Venelia heard Altair's voice behind her before she heard the doors click closed, and it was silent for a moment before his voice came out quiet; cautious. "Vee."

She flinched as the hairs on the back of her neck pricked. It had been so long since she'd been called that, she'd almost completely forgotten about the nickname. It used to fill her heart with glee at the specialness of it, but now it made her stomach turn over, bile rising up her throat at the sound. She clenched her fists and slowly turned to face her former betrothed; the man she once thought she loved.

"Don't call me that," she gritted out, her fingernails digging into the flesh of her palm.

She watched as it was Altair's turn to flinch. Venelia almost scoffed. He had the gall to act surprised at her contempt towards him? After everything he had done? He swallowed and stepped towards her slowly, and instinctively she stepped back. His shoulders dropped.

He seemed unsure of what to say, his face moving through several emotions before he settled on: "Venelia...I'm glad you're alright."

This time, Venelia did scoff. "Are you?"

"Yes. Of course, I am," Altair frowned.

"I suppose you're just glad you can use me to regain the people's trust." She could not hide the resentment that coated her tone, and she did not want to.

Altair's mouth gaped and he shook his head. "...No...that's not it at all."

Silence passed between them. Venelia could look at him better now that they were closer. He really did look awful. He looked almost a little gaunt. His already sharp cheekbones seemed sharper as his face seemed hallowed. He kept fidgeting too; his thumb scratching the side of his pointer finger. He was nervous...but why?