Nine

Gods, am I grateful that it's over. All that praying and meditating and speaking and organizing… It's been a quarter to an hour now that the actual burial is over, and I was free to allow myself some minutes for being alone. So the first thing I did was coming to my room, crashing on the bed and closing my eyes, the only sound reaching me being the rush from the waves outside.

I really wish it would stay this way but of course it doesn't. A knock on my door. Then: "Jenna, the first visitors arrived." Ah, Yasha. "And… Weizel's about to arrive in some minutes." I scramble up from the bed. Dammit. Gerald Weizel, Imperial governor of Chandrila and arrogant bastard extraordinaire. He even had the balls to appear at my mother's funeral, telling us in a subtle way but in no uncertain terms that he hoped that every tie between the Rebellion and the Melara-family was severed once and for all with her death. I was ready to shoot him in that moment, even back then when I was only 21.

After rearranging my traditional funeral garb – a tight red tunic over a flowing black skirt – I open the door and join my sister. "Any indication my cover could have been blown up?" Yasha shakes her head.

"No. All of them have no reason to suspect anything. Could be difficult to explain that friend of yours, though." I momentarily grid my teeth.

"His name is Xanas, Yasha. Start calling him that." She gives me a weird side glance, as if she's inwardly questioning my sanity, but my patience has been tested enough for the last days.

"Right. Xanas. Could be hard integrating him in your cover." We're almost in the entrance hall, and I really should think of something. Then I get it.

"I'll introduce him as Sav Leecin, architect from Ord Mantell. And my current… involvement. Just tell everyone to play along with it, okay?" She and I both know that there's only one we specifically need to tell to play along. Ced.

"Right." We arrive at the hall, where my brother, Xanas, Bey, Aldric, Mo'an and Ilisa – our head house maid – are already waiting.

Just before the doorbell chimes, I manage to get to Xan and brush his ear, whispering: "Cover time again." I swear, just for a moment I saw him blush. Good to know that even he can be intimidated with something as simple as whispering.

The bell chimes, and Mo'an opens the door, slightly bowing to the man standing before him. A guy in his fifties, with the aloof air of an upper-class gentleman around him, and in a silver-haired kind of way good looking. Ladies and gentlebeings, the governor has arrived.

The same as two years ago, he ignores Mo'an and steps into the house, ignoring all Chandrilan customs regarding entering a funeral house, behind him trailing an elegant middle-aged woman. Osura Weizel, his wife. He steers straight towards me, extending his hand.

I really have to force myself to take it and look him into the eye. "My condolences, Miss Melara. Your father was an excellent man. A fair business-man and an exceptional citizen." Smug, lying bastard. You hated him as much as you hated my mother, only that you needed his connections to get your Alderaanian wine and your monthly dose of glitterstim.

"Yes, he was. Thank you for your condolences, sir. It's an honor to welcome you in our humble domicile." And you, Jenna Melara, are a bigot liar and hypocrite. "Humble domicile"? Don't make them laugh.

"And it's an honor to be greeted here by you. You surely must have loved your father in an exceptional way if you come the long way from Mrlsst to Chandrila just for his funeral." Just another example of how disinterested Weizel is in the planet he's supposed to be governing. In all his years of his regime, he should have found time for at least a rough overview of Chandrilan customs and traditions.

"In fact, sir, it was greatly required that I return. In Chandrilan tradition, it's always the oldest daughter who has to conduct the funeral rituals when a member of her close family dies." We already told you that two years ago. And I'm sure you got told by the members of a lot of other families you visited to come and gloat over the death of their loved ones in the service of the Alliance. Aldric's uncle – Hiram Drayson, a fellow officer of my mother's and a planet hero in his own right – for example. I was there. I still remember it.

"Oh yes, you're right, I remember it. My deepest apologies of forgetting it. But… how are your studies going, Miss Melara?" Making conversation already in the entrance hall and keeping me from welcoming all the other visitors that are slowly filing in? Not a nice move, Mr. Governor.

"They are… going well. I'm working in a post-graduate program, analyzing and comparing Republic communicational structures to Imperial ways of information." The funny thing is: If I hadn't joined the Rebellion, this would be exactly what I'd be doing now. There even is still a file with my name existing in the student archives at Mrlsst Academy.

"And I'm sure, you'll be coming to the conclusion that with the Rise of the New Order, there also was an improvement of information distribution to the citizens in the galaxy." And I'm sure that I really, really want to strangle you with my hands and torture you to death for all the things you and your Empire did to my mother, my planet, my galaxy. I really, really want to make you suffer for Alderaan and Ghorman and Tatooine and all those other planets.

"My research indicates that I can agree with you, sir." Oh, and I want to strangle myself for being such a devote and spineless creature.

"Say, who is this nice young man at your side, Miss Melara?", the governor's wife chimes in and bats her lashes and Xanas. Forget it, you old hawk-bat, he's so totally out of your league.

Uh, did I just think that?

"Sav Leecin, architect. Pleasure to meet you, madam." He takes her hand and kisses it. Needless to say that I hate the sight of it. Of course only because she's as much an Imperial with every inch of her effete upper-class body as her husband. "And an honor to meet you, sir." He shakes hands with Weizel, as if he hasn't done anything else in his entire life. I wonder how far I'm away from the actual truth with that assumption.

"Sav is my… current companion. He came here as to support me during this hard time." Madam Weizel smiles one of those benevolent smiles middle-aged people all over the galaxy have on their faces when seeing a young couple. You can almost hear the "Awwwwwww!", that goes through their heads. I hate it.

As an emphasize Xanas puts his arm around my waist and draws me towards him. Now that… I should be hating as well. But it just feels actually comforting for real. I really, really should stop thinking thoughts like this.

"Say, Mr. Leecin… I think, I remember your face from somewhere." I feel his arm stiffen. Oh Gods. Something in Weizel's sentence alarmed him, and that's not good.

"Are you maybe from Ord Mantell, sir?" He's still all upper-class nonchalance, but his fingers on my hip are growing tight. As if he needs me to support him. We definitely need to talk about his past.

"No, from Eiattu VI… I could have sworn to have seen someone wearing your face at one of the nobility gatherings at the court." That's what you get for taking an Eiattu nobility misfit with you to a planet that's governed by another Eiattu nobility off-spring: A big mess that'll probably ruin your whole family's lives. Yay.

"Well, then it must have been stolen." Oh wow. He even manages to wink at Madame Weizel. What do Eiattu noble families teach their children in their diplomacy classes? "I for once can't say that I ever visited the Eiattu system, and particularly Eiattu VI." For a moment, Weizel is studying Xan's face again, and I can feel the tension in his body rise. Because I fear he is going to do something stupid, I cover his hand on my hips unobtrusively as not to draw any attention. Squeezing it lightly, I try to calm him down.

"Yes, maybe I was just confusing you with one of those young nobles at the court that all seem to look the same. But we have kept you long enough, Miss Melara, perhaps if your… companion can accompany us to the dining room…" I'm sorry, Xan. So, so sorry. I wish I could do anything against this, but you've got to get through this all on your own. He won't let you off the hook the whole evening, and there's nothing I can do against it. So I do the only thing I know of.

"Of course, sir.", Xanas says, and Weizel and his wife turn to go.

When they show us their backs, I turn around in his arm and stand up on my toes to whisper to him: "I'm sorry, I have to put you through that, Xanas. I'll make it up someday, I promise." And following an impulse I give him a short peck on the cheek.

Surprisingly, he leans down to me and whispers back: "Don't worry. I'll be fine. But I'd still love to see you making up." And then he gives me another, albeit short kiss full on the lips. Leaving me behind fuming, he turns to Madam Weizel and offers her his arm. Stupid, stupid bastard. Just wait till we get back to the regiment, and I'm your superior. Just. You. Wait.

"Miss Jenna? The food is ready, and the table is set. Could you please come and open the feast?", Ilisa politely as ever asks, and reminds me of my duties as a hostess again. How I just hate it all. If I wasn't only 23, I'd say, I'm getting too old for this.


It's five hours later when even the last guests finally left the house, and the bustling of the servants and droids has finally stopped and I finally allow myself five minutes to sit down in the now deserted dinner room, close my eyes and take off my shoes and put my feet up on a chair. For everyone else, the day is mostly done, but not for me. There are appointments to make with our family's lawyer, there are thank-you letters to write to the people who attended to the burial and/or the feast or who wrote condolence letters, there are business matters that need to be taken care off…

"Say, Jenna… where was all your rebellious bravado when that idiot Weizel violated our traditions? Or when his wife flirted shamelessly with that lover boy of yours?" I open my eyes again. Of course, Ced. It was only a matter of time until he would start taunting me again, really.

"Locked up and away so I don't compromise this family and ruin everything that makes it possible for you to live a life of privilege." Dad is now officially buried, and technically I'm the head of this household now. It's time I act like it.

"How noble of you. So it doesn't matter to you that lover boy very thoroughly enjoyed his time with Weizel's wife at his side?" Again I wonder whereto the boy I knew and loved disappeared. The Ced I used to know was good-natured, sometimes a little brash, but always friendly and mostly only teasing.

"First of all: His name is Xanas. Start calling him that. And second: He's not my lover. We serve together in the same unit, that's all. And godsdammit, stop behaving like a spoiled brat." In his eyes, I see a dangerous fire burning. It's a fire being fueled by countless hours of brooding over an assumed unfair fate. Great.

"No. You stop behaving like you own everything here. Because you own nothing. And you don't deserve anything here, as well." He's hurt, I can see that. But I wish he would stop acting like I was the frigging Emperor. That would make a lot of things a lot easier.

"This is not about owning anything, right? This is about you being hurt by me leaving. Why can't you just say that?" For a moment, everything is silent. Then, a frigging storm breaks loose.

"I'm not hurt! I'm fucking going ballistic! You leave for that glorious Rebellion of yours, never considering how dad may take it. You broke his fucking heart! He died because of you!" With that he grabs one of the antique Alderaanian vases one of my great-grandmothers collected and throws it right at the wall behind me. Stupid spoiled brat with no regard to the value of things. We really should have been more careful in his education.

I jump from my seat, my skirt momentarily hindering me to do it with a certain amount of dignity. "That's enough. I'll not let you give me a frigging guilt complex. Dad died in a speeder crash, not from a weak heart. This is ridiculous. I don't need to hear that." I can't take it anymore. For three days, I tried to be forgiving, even indulging with him. I told myself time and again that he just didn't have time to grow up properly, that his adolescence had been a troubled one. But my patience has its limits, and this is one of them. So I do the only thing that always worked for me in conflicts: I run away. But not before calling out: "Don't you dare let a servant or a droid clean up your mess. You do that on your own. And you'll pay for that vase."

Upon leaving the room, I almost stumble over Xanas who in turns utters a "Jenna?"

The only answer I have is "Not now.", and then I'm already on my way to my favorite hiding place when I was a child.


A/N: We-ell... another chapter. No, I didn't write so fast, I already have the whole story written down ;) The past delays were mostly caused by my beta-reader (who chose to abandon me and... no, okay, that's unfair), and because I don't have one at the moment I can get out the chapters in shorter intervalls. But I'm still looking for one. Really.

Apart from that I now want to thank all those people who chose to take this story into their favorites or added me to their favorite authors or added this story or myself to their respective alerts. I really appreciate that, even if I haven't said so yet. Thank you very, very much.