Deal Breakers and Queen Makers

By LadyRavena

Chapter 6: Why is my reflection someone I don't know?

That evening, Mitth'ryl settled down in her own sofa, away from all reports, files, and meetings. Eri'dantae was teaching self-defence classes for another hour, and then he would be free for the rest of the evening as well. She was quite sure that she would be able to think of something to keep them both occupied that didn't involve work of any kind.

The door chime intruded on her happy thoughts, drawing a frown from her. "Come," she called, not rising from underneath the lap blanket or putting the novel that Eri'dantae had recommended down.

Waltz slowly entered, shoebox, garment bag and several other boxes all balanced in her arms. "Now, don't get up," she said dryly. "I'll just find a place to put all this down without dropping anything."

"You're welcome." Mitth'ryl turned a page, barely glancing up.

"Where's your full-length mirror?"

"In the bedroom; tap the wardrobe door on the upper right corner."

Waltz made it, judging by the lack of crashing noises. A few minutes passed, enough for Mitth'ryl to finish her chapter and become curious. Sliding out from under the blanket, she wandered into the bedroom…

…to a wardrobe explosion. Draped across the neatly made bed was a tight-looking top, with at least fifty small hooks in the back. The large garment bag was hanging from the door, still closed. Shoes poked out of one of the boxes. Another box held several long pins, a thin dagger and a sharp looking comb. Two more boxes were open with several rings, bracelets, purses, and necklaces to choose from. A makeup case was on the nightstand, with base, lip rouge, and various other powders and sticks she had only a faint idea what they did.

"What is this all for?" Mitth'ryl asked, voice tight and quiet.

"The plans have changed a bit. Admiral Parck didn't mention it to you after the last of the meetings?"

"I left right at the end for a comm-call from my ship. Final reports and fatality lists had just come in," she said tightly, trying to ignore the sharp ache inside. One damn shot in the dark…

Waltz's eyes opened wide. "Oh. So you don't know that Intel has confirmed that wait staff aren't to be included in the final meeting. Only invited members and their dates will be included. So, you'll have to go in as Fernic's date."

"And all of this," a blue hand encompassed the sprawling mass of items, "is necessary?"

"Yep. You have to look like the other ladies at the party. Otherwise, you'll stand out in the wrong way. Rather than the right way," Waltz added, giving the Chiss an exaggerated once-over.

Mitth'ryl could feel the blood flushing her cheeks a bit at that. "Do we have to do this now?" she muttered under her breath. She took a step closer. "I suppose you need to check the fit, don't you?"

Waltz nodded, sympathetic. "Just the once. Then they can make any adjustments on the mannequins downstairs."

"They have my measurements," she groused as she slowly took her overlarge sweater off. "Why can't they just make a mannequin that is the same size as me?"

Waltz shrugged. "I guess you might put a few ounces here and there. Always better to get a feel for the costume. Besides, didn't you used to have your own stormtropper armour? Those always need fine-tuning."

"He did, yes. I haven't, just the body armour." Mitth'ryl took the white top thing in her hands, turning it around a few times. "Just how does this work?" she asked, confused.

"Well," Waltz said, taking it back and turning it upright and right side out. She held it out to the young Chiss. "This part goes up front, and this goes to the back. Getting it done up is my job. Oh, it goes on first," she added as Mitth'ryl disappeared behind the refresher door. She puttered for a moment, pulling out a hair brush and two hair sticks.

"Ready," came the quavering voice from behind the door.

Waltz waited until Mitth'ryl moved around the door, trying to keep a professional look on her face. She aligned it just on the under bust line, sliding under the swell. Deftly tying the long blue black hair into a bun, she placed the sticks in, hoping it would hold long enough. "Okay, try not to move too much, and let's hope that I don't put the second hook on the first eyelet, the third on the second…."

Starting at the bottom, Waltz's deft fingers made short work of the first 2 inches of hooks. She was working on the third inch when Mitth'ryl spoke. "Just why is this thing necessary?"

"It's called a support garment, not a thing. It keeps everything where it is supposed to be, and a female's stomach area flat, not that you need that so much. It helps with the dress, keeping flat sections flat, and prevents bunching. Some of them lift and separate one's cleavage, others lift and give cleavage. I think," she added quietly, "this is one of the latter."

"Of course," Mitth'ryl muttered darkly, one hand trying to pull the limited fabric up higher.

Waltz reached around and pulled her hand away. "Stop it. It's fine right where it is. Now, take your last deep breath." She started on the next section of hooks. "You won't be able to when I'm done."

"One is supposed to be able to breathe!" Mitth'ryl gasped. "Chiss and humans have the same number of ribs, you realize."

"Not high born ladies, or giddy eye candy," Waltz argued, pulling the hooks tighter against the blue ribs. Glancing at the mirror, checking to see that everything was straight, she reached around pulled the Chiss's right hand away from the bodice. "Leave it."

"Need air," the other hissed.

"Take nice shallow breaths. Slow, steady, and with the top of your lungs. Not like you were going to yell across the bridge," Waltz scolded, fingers on the last inch of hooks.

"I don't think I could do much more than squeak with this straight jacket on," Mitth'ryl complained.

"I'm done. Turn around once, see what you think."

Slowly, Mitth'ryl turned around, twisting a little to look over her shoulder at her reflection. The long row of hooks was barely visible from this distance. Looking down the length of it, she could see that like from the front, her waist was tightly cinched in until her hips flared out, creating the fashionable timepiece figure.

"It looks good," Waltz said from in front of her. "Everything fit pretty well. Just going to slide a finger in and check for room." She proceeded to check the back and side of the young Chiss's ribs, nodding to herself.

"Well, where is every--"

Waltz and Mitth'ryl whirled around toward the door, both horrified. Eri'dantae's voice floated in to the room as his footsteps wandered into the food preparation area. It would only take a glance, and then he'd be –

As Mitth'ryl dived for her discarded sweater, Waltz dashed out the room, hitting the door close switch on her way. She stuttered a few steps, trying to make the turn to the eating area, when she ran smack into the weapon master.

"What's going--?"

"Get out, get out, get out!" Waltz ordered, pointing to the door to try and get him to leave, and more importantly, not look at the bedroom door, which hadn't closed. She glanced once at the doorway, hoping that Mitth'ryl was at least in the 'fresher, behind a locked door.

It was one glance too many. Homing in on the room, he started to move toward the bedroom. "Now, what is it that you don't want me to--?"

"What part of out," Waltz demanded, stepping in front of Eri'dantae and poking him in the chest, "is not clear to you? Get out! You are supposed to be teaching right now."

"I let the class out early after Chirpov broke his wrist," he explained, edging around the young aide. "What is it that you don't want me to see?"

Waltz danced in front of him again, and he promptly picked her up and placed her to one side. "Stay put, would you? I just want a peak!"

"Fine!" Waltz huffed. "Peak at this," she said, twisting one his arms under and up, pinning it painfully against his shoulder blades. Ignoring his gasp, she marched him out of the apartment. Pushing him into the hall, she shook her head. "Men!"

As she entered a new door lock code, one that Eri'dantae better not crack in his now-copious spare time, she heard soft clapping. Turning around, she smiled sheepishly at the blanket-wrapped admiral. "Well, he asked for it," she defended.

"Oh, I agree," Mitth'ryl said with a smirk. Twice in one week for that arm lock. His houlder was not going to thank him for that… "Shall we finish this, Waltz?" she pleaded softly, padding back into the room. She was trying to get the zipper to open on the garment bag when Waltz, after checking the door one last time, finally made it in.

"Oh, gimme that," she said, shooing the other's hands away. "You have to press and hold the clasp, and then unzip it."

Stepping back, Mitth'ryl draped the blanket over the back of the chair. "So, what does our Intel say that the latest fashion look – Emperor's black bones, that thing is shorter than a bacta dip robe!"

Waltz slowly pulled the topic of discussion out, and held it up for inspection. "Yes, it is."

"Where is the rest of it?"

Waltz looked at the Chiss, puzzled. "Rest of what?"

Mitth'ryl motioned at the dress. "The rest of the gown!"

"Ah…this isn't gown," Waltz started to explain, a sinking suspicion settling in. "It's a cocktail dress. It's supposed to be this short, and with no shoulders or sleeves."

"But," Mitth'ryl whispered, looking frazzled, "there's a coat, or a shrug, or a capelet or…or something else!" She sank onto the edge of the bed, staring up at Waltz. "Women aren't expected to go out in public looking like…like that! Are they?"

Waltz hung the dress on the closet door and sat beside the upset young woman. "Some like to dress that way," she said softly, keeping a close eye on the other. "They think that men want that in a woman. They see it as a way to get attention. Others only wear it to fit in, and not stand out amongst their peers, but they would rather not wear them at all.

"And yes, some women refuse to wear such garments, finding them demeaning or sexist or indecent. There are numerous dress fashions, most of which Thrawn should have seen at Court on the Imperial Palace's dance floor. Surely Thrawn at least noticed the women around him?" Waltz asked, and then thought of something else. "Unless he wasn't looking at females?" she asked delicately.

Mitth'ryl smiled a bit. "Yes, he did look at females, but he never really…" she trailed off, almost unwilling to delve into that section of the Admiral's life.

"Ah…oh," Waltz said, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"He never really courted anyone," Mitth'ryl corrected, a faint blush in her cheeks. She'd started on this, and Waltz was such a close friend…"There were a few dalliances with fellow crew. They were over in a night or two, matters of convenience for both parties." She plucked at the fabric of her corset, keeping her eyes away from Waltz's. "You have to realize, Thrawn was put into the academy at the age of seven. He was a child prodigy, wild and undisciplined. He desperately needed the structure in his life.

"So, as he grew into an adult, the only women he saw were instructors, and other cadets. He experimented, of course; the entire cadet force did." She smiled ruefully. "After all, for the most part, they were all hitting their prime years. But as he started looking a little more closely to find a mate, he graduated, and was assigned to his first ship. In a matter of months, he was rising through the ranks, gaining the attention of the upper echelons. The Eighth Family extended their offer of Trial-born, and so he stopped looking."

"Why?" Waltz asked, puzzled.

"If the family had approved of him, he would have been assigned a mate. So, to avoid breaking a dalliance off, he simply threw himself into his work, and avoided all entanglements. Then, of course, the Ruling Families exiled him, and the next time he saw another of his own kind, he wasn't all that interested in 'settling down'. He had an Empire to defend and the forces out here to create and organize. I don't remember him really making the decision to never marry," she admitted softly, "it just sort of…"

"Dawned on him one morning?" Waltz supplied gently.

Mitth'ryl nodded, eyes downcast.

"So, that's why you were so shy about you and Eri'dantae," Waltz surmised, nodding to herself. "You've never really had those feelings before, have you?"

"No," Mitth'ryl admitted. "Love has little place in Chiss society. One marries for position, not for love." She straightened up, and forced a smile at her friend. "So, you'll have to excuse the lack of risqué ladies fashion knowledge. He could have been staring right them, and only noticed that the person was speaking to a certain lieutenant. There were a few exceptions, of course," she added, thinking back on a certain Hand.

"So, this assignment is something that neither of us has ever done. This 'eye candy' idea," she said scornfully, "is so out of the ordinary fleet activities. And so demeaning … mortifying … " She shivered a bit, eyes traveling back to the dress on its hanger.

"Yet for this assignment," Waltz said gently, "you have to be one of the girls hanging on some power-hungry man's arm. In that society, women don't have feelings or thoughts, so the men dress them as they would, and treat them like tokens captured for all to see. It is as different from the normal fleet activity as is possible to get. That," she finished, a hand on a trembling blue knee, "is why you agreed to go in, rather than sending in another, isn't it?"

"We need to be there, and I need to see these so-called anarchists. Second hand intelligence is not sufficient. But," she paused, finally looking Waltz in the eye a bit bashfully, "I was so hoping that the staff idea would work, going in as a waitress, or serving drinks, something faceless and unnoticed, so that was…"

"What you got used to?"

"Yes, I suppose I did," Mitth'ryl said ruefully. "How foolish of me; we both know that plans change and must be adapted to." She looked at the dress and then back at the young woman sitting beside her. "Let's at least try it on, and get this over with. Then I can warm up in several layers of bantha wool."

After a few more checks and slipping two hooks back into place, Waltz slowly took the dress off the hanger. "How does one…ah! It's a side zipper, sneaky thing." She gathered it up, and stood on the stool behind Mitth'ryl. "Don't touch," she snapped, startling the Chiss's hand away from the edge of the bodice. Slowly, mindful of the hair sticks, she slipped the dress down into place.

"Lift your arms, please." Finding the small zipper, she pulled the dress slits closed, fumbling the two tiny hook and eyes. "There, now, turn around and we can see…" The front hadn't landed as well as she'd hoped. She pulled a few bits here and there. "Turn around again," she asked, watching the top hem for dips or sags. There were two spots that could use a tuck in. "Now, a little more to the right. Yes, bit more – leave it!" she snapped, smacking the blue fingers that tried to pull it up to cover the ample cleavage.

Mitth'ryl hissed a bit, surprised at the sting. "It's not supposed to be that low."

"Is the support garment showing?"

"No," she muttered reluctantly.

"Then it isn't too low. Let's get you into the shoes, so I can make sure the lower hem is straight." Waltz marched over to the shoe box, grabbed a pair of heels and crouched in front of her. "You'll need a pedicure, by the way. Make-up is making the correct shade to match the dress. In we go!"

Mitth'ryl only lost her balance once as they fitted the second shoe on, and only a little. The extra height seemed to make the dress even shorter. When Waltz asked her to twirl, she thought the skirts would float past her waist. Apparently that was supposed to happen as well, as Waltz nodded, and pronounced the fit adequate. "Then I can get this off?" she asked, hopeful despite the rest of the unused boxes.

Waltz gave her a once over. "In a minute. We can do the makeup tests another time, when you're dressed normally," she added as the Chiss's face fell subtly. "Just one last thing, okay?"

"Like I have a choice," Mitth'ryl muttered, turning around at the other's finger twirl. "You're the only one that can get me out of this thing."

"Just a minute, not an hour." Waltz pulled the hair sticks out, quick brushing the locks into long ringlets. Pulling the thin head band from another box, she slipped it into the curls, using it to keep the front locks from falling forward. "Now, turn around, and see what you look like." With that, she tapped the mirror back on, and stood back.

Mitth'ryl took a very long look, taking in every detail, unable to say anything, eyes wide.

"I think you look beautiful," Waltz announced into the silence.

"I look like a Bounty Bunny."

"Well, that too."

The datapad lay tipped upwards against the vase on Eri'dantae's desk, yellow standing light blinking slowly. Taking it with him to his favourite chair, he settled lopsided into it and flicked the 'pad on.

Dear Mr. and Cmdr. Pieters,

I wish to extend my deepest condolences on the loss of your son. Lt. Pieters was a fine young officer who I feel could have gone much higher in rank and responsibility had not fate decided to take him too soon from us.

No doubt Cpt. Harburge has supplied you with some of the details of his death, but I felt that you deserved to know the exact reason your son was not on post at the time. In the course of the battle against an invading race, the bridge was dealt a crippling blow. The aftermath showed that I was critically injured, with no time to wait for our over-reached medical teams to arrive. Your son gallantly offered to physically carry his CO from the wreckage toward safety. Only when he was assured of my safety did he request to return to return to his post. He could have stayed in the safety of the medical sections, but his innate sense of duty, no doubt instilled by you both throughout his youth, would not permit dereliction of duty.

Without his aid, I would not have survived, and I will be eternally grateful for his sacrifice.

With deepest sympathies,

Admiral Mitth'ryl

Eri'dantae finished the letter and looked up. Leaning on the door to his bedroom she looked washed out, but a lot more at peace. "Well done, my dear."

She nodded and curled up beside him on the sofa.