Guess who came to my house this afternoon on the way home from the Palace? And then proceeded to ambush me about YOU?
Fuck, it was Azamin, right? He was waiting for me at the speeder when I left the garden the other night. We're busted.
WTF? And you didn't think you should tell me?
Does your Mother know about us? Because your brother doesn't. I just saw him and he was his usual self. If he knew, he would be raging.
Well, I'm raging! Mother doesn't know, thank the Force. Mother's clueless.
Wait—is this our first fight?
YES. And I am PISSED.
Okay, my bad. I didn't tell you because I didn't think much of Azamin's latest lecture. It's not the first time he's told me to stay away from you.
? I am raging harder now. EXPLAIN.
Okay, so when I was home for the funeral, I told Azamin that you knew that I killed my Master. It earned me my first warning. And then he caught me leaving your garden and that earned me the second warning. But here's all you really need to know: I won't give you up. Not for meddling Azamin or anyone else. You're mine, babe.
Whatever. Dream on, random.
Portia?
Portia, talk to me. Please talk to me. Are u still mad?
Absolutely. Were your ears burning? Azamin told me you are the most dangerous man in the Empire.
That's right. I'm a savage and that feeble geezer knows it. But I doubt he meant it as a compliment.
He didn't. I'm supposed to end our pointless, highly improper flirtation.
Or what? He'll tell your family?
I doubt he will tell them. Not yet. I think he's giving me the chance to tell you goodbye on my own to resolve the issue.
I don't trust him. I think he secretly likes me, but I don't trust him.
He's not looking to cause trouble. Lord Azamin's not like that.
If you say so /s/ So this is goodbye? Is that what you're telling me?
No. But we can't get caught again. I told you it was too risky for us to meet in the garden. This is all our fault.
You were right. But I don't regret it. Do u?
I regret that you got caught.
We got caught. He sensed us both in the Force.
I blame you. You're the one with the giant Force imprint. Besides, I belong in my garden, you don't. Sensing me was not the give away.
I want you to wait for me still. Please say you will.
Please.
PLEASE.
PRETTY PLEEEEAAAASSSSE.
Alright, I will.
Whew. And what about Azamin?
I'll think of something to tell him.
Don't lie to him. Play along with him instead. Make him think that's he's convinced you.
He's signed me up for Temple work.
Is that good?
Only if you like fussy old Ladies and hours of meditation. So, do you have my back in this or not? Tell me the truth.
I do! I guess I'm not used to this couple thing. Usually, I have to handle things on my own. That's why I didn't think to warn you. It's a lame excuse, I know.
Yeah, you've got that loner thing down, I hear. So where does that leave me? I have a lot to lose.
I'm groveling at your feet. Can you tell that I'm groveling?
Mostly, it seems like you're whining.
My Lady, I beg your forgiveness. I will do better. hangs head in shame
I'm going to hold you to that promise. You get a second chance, but not a third.
So . . . we're cool? Because if we're cool, you still owe me a picture. Please distract me from war.
My photographer Julia is busy after school today. Tomorrow maybe.
Make it two pictures then.
Don't be greedy.
Not my fault. I can't get enough of you.
I'm risking a lot in this. Pictures will just up the ante. And may I remind you that I'm supposed to be dumping your random ass?
You're still mad.
Yeah, I'm still mad.
I'm truly sorry about Azamin. I didn't want to worry you.
So instead, you let me get blindsided? His visit was supposedly about the Temple, but it was all about him and Mother getting me married off ASAP. Clearly, Azamin thinks that a betrothal is the solution to the problem of me and you.
I'll kill any man who tries to marry you. I mean it. So don't go getting yourself engaged.
I love it when you say that. I shouldn't, but I do.
I'll kill any man who tries to marry you. Now, send me a pic. You need some skin in this game too, babe. Hopefully, lots and lots of skin showing. wink, wink + fingers crossed
Maybe.
Well, that drama is over . . . for now, at least. Portia sets the comlink aside and starts to brood again. She knows that she should quit Gaius Veradun. But she doesn't want to. Other than Julia, Gaius is the only person close to her age who seems to understand her restlessness. She doesn't have to pretend with him. She doesn't bother trying to impress him. And that's a relief. Her society is full of posturing on all levels and it can become exhausting. There's just so much to being a young Lady from an important family. So many restrictions! But will any of those unwritten rules matter when the Republic shows up to kill them all? Will anyone care if she marries a random if the Sith lose the war and they must retreat into hiding with the rest of the survivors for Hidden Empire 2.0?
People like Mother keep moving forward as usual, acting as if the war is a temporary inconvenience. They pretend that nothing has changed while they blithely turn a blind eye to the existential risks that surround them. But Portia can only seem to see those risks. Conversations like the one she had with Azamin feed that anxiety. They make her feel reckless and rebellious. Like she needs to live her life now while she can before it's too late. What's the harm if she lets a maverick young Lord steal kisses in the garden? Better to experience passion now since she might die a virgin untouched and martyred by some Jedi.
But if she won't give up Gaius, then how should she handle Darth Azamin? Portia can't decide if Azamin is the best person or the worst person to know about her and Gaius. She counts the reasons for the worst person category. Namely, how influential and important her neighbor is. Azamin is the sort of man who can plant the right request in the right ear and make things happen. Every Lord in the Empire would gladly do him a favor. And that might include, for example, brokering a hard-to-refuse betrothal offer for her hand. He's also in a position to take out his wrath on Gaius. Because as a Dark Council member, Lord Azamin makes many decisions and grants important approvals. If he wants to throw up roadblocks to Gaius' career, it won't be hard. Plus, no one will question harsh treatment to a disliked random who's out of favor with the Emperor. But then again, she thinks, her wise neighbor is exceedingly thoughtful. Maybe there was a time with the elder statesman was ruled by his passions or his ego, but Portia has always known him to be a measured, tempered sort. Lord Azamin thinks through issues carefully. The man is never rash or petty as far as Portia has seen. And, for what it's worth, Gaius thinks Azamin likes him.
So, Portia doesn't lose sleep over whether her neighbor will rat her out. Instead, she lays awake worrying about how to dupe a man she respects and loves. For Portia has no doubt that Lord Azamin truly does have her best interest at heart. She simply doesn't see the issue the same way he does. Gaius is worth the risk, she has decided. But just to be cautious, she avoids the garden for the whole next week. If anyone asks about her change in routine, she'll blame it on the Temple work that occupies the time she used to do homework.
Meanwhile, Gaius keeps blowing up her comlink. She wakes to a new message each day. Good morning from the Rim. So are you more mad at me today, or less mad at me today?
About the same.
Meaning?
STILL PISSED. She's not ready to let him out of the dog house yet. Time for some more verbal lighting to underscore that point. Dammit, Gaius, you should have told me about Azamin! Even Cato doesn't treat me with that level of paternalism. Look, if you're looking for some docile wife, I am not the girl for you.
How about this: you can throw me into a rosebush when I'm home next for punishment.
I'm more likely to take a sword to you.
That's my girl. I like how independent you are. You're going to need those qualities as Lady Malgus.
Then start respecting my judgment.
Will do.
So, yesterday I went to the Temple and—no joke—I was 50 years younger than all of them. The first thing everyone asked is whether I have 'an understanding' already.
What's that mean?
An informal betrothal. It happens a lot. Parents agree on a tentative match when kids are young and then once they are grown, the families reevaluate and decide whether to affirm the commitment. Our family doesn't do it—they think that understandings too often lead to conflict and there's no reason to create conflict over some tenuous maybe someday commitment. But anyhow . . . when the answer was no for me, the old Ladies started showing me pictures of every unmarried man in their extended families. Even a few old guys in their 30s. UGH! As if!
I'll kill any man who tries to marry you.
Alright . . . that made me smile. But just a little.
Is it too soon to ask again for a pic?
I'll think about it.
I love it when you play hard to get.
I said I'd think about it.
She's been thinking about it a lot, actually. In between obsessing over deceiving Darth Azamin, she's been obsessing over whether sending Gaius sexy pictures is worth the risk. But is there really any additional risk? Is she any more compromised if she sends Gaius what he wants? As it is, her brother has plenty of standing to complain that her honor has been impugned. If the comlink weren't already enough grounds for outrage, those kisses in the garden sealed the deal. So if she's in deep already, what's the harm of going further? Portia tells herself that pictures aren't really an escalation. Julia, of course, readily agrees. Her bestie is quite the enabler where Gaius is concerned. But it's encouragement Portia needs. She throws caution to the wind and decides to go for it. YOLO, right?
Julia, being artistically inclined, greets the task with a mix of giggly enthusiasm and elaborate staging. For her part, Portia contributes a semblance of common sense. She decrees that no private parts may show and her face cannot be visible. If anyone besides Gaius ever sees these snaps, she doesn't want to be identified. Plausible deniability is key. With those limitations, however, Portia gives her bestie full creative license.
And that's how she gets herself talked into a photograph taken from behind as she removes her bra. Portia's facing away from the camera and the lingerie strap is unhooked as her long hair streams over one shoulder. She's only showing her torso, shoulders, arms, and hands. It's more sensuous than sexy and it's discretely anonymous. The vibe is everyday voyeur for the girl-next-door. Portia pronounces herself well pleased and sends it to Gaius.
She gets back a one-word response: MORE. It's so succinctly stereotypically male Sith that Portia snort laughs out loud. More . . . that's so predictable. She rolls her eyes. But in truth, she's tickled. What woman doesn't like to be admired? Prissy Apollonia might be the pretty sister, but she'll be the sexy sister. And that's way more fun and exciting. Why be pretty when you can be hot?
Her co-conspirator Julia takes the request for more as a challenge. Julia sneaks into Gaius' room and locates the gorgeous velvet cape for his ceremonial armor that she can't stop gushing about. After some trial and error with the strategic draping of the heavy cloak, Julia photographs her standing naked wrapped in the handsome cape. One whole bare leg is visible, as well as her completely naked hip and waist. She's clutching the cape to barely hide her bosom, as if she has been surprised and has rushed to cover herself. Her head is turned shyly and her hair falls forward to obscure her features. The picture is equal parts demure and coy, and Portia has to admit that it's perfect. After some debate with Julia over whether to go with black and white or a color tint, she opts for color. It shows off the contrast of her red skin against the grey satin cape lining better. Portia sends the pic with the caption 'Lady Malgus.'
Force, you're beautiful, Gaius texts back. Show me more. I want to see more of you.
But Portia gets cold feet now. Because looking back at the two pictures she has sent, there's not much more of her that she feels comfortable showing. Julia naturally disagrees since she's behind the camera and not in front of it. Her friend is full of all sorts of raunchy suggestions. But Portia wants to keep this as classy as possible.
She finally relents and agrees to pose with a lightsaber hilt gripped behind the small of her back. The suggestion is that she's lying in wait and poised to attack. Portia's wearing the skimpy black string bikini that she and Portia took silly pictures in over the summer. Artsy Julia frames up the picture like a beauty shot of her butt. Basically, the pic is all curves and weaponry, the top two things that will turn a young Sith Lord's head.
This might be a bit much, Portia worries aloud, as she stares at her surprisingly ripe and juicy looking ass with a not-so-subtle phallic symbol held above it in her shiny manicured grip. Your face isn't in it, Julia argues, completely missing the forest for the trees. Because somehow this sexy-but-deadly Sith femme fatale snap feels much more suggestive than any of the previous pics. Portia decides not to send it, much to Julia's vocal dissent.
But the next day after school Portia goes to another Temple meeting and has to listen politely to some octogenarian tell her that her great grandson is a gem of a boy who will make some lucky girl a great husband. When she gets home, Portia immediately texts Gaius the lightsaber picture in sullen defiance. She captions it 'ready for anything.'
You are my fantasy, he replies. That ass tho . . . I'm going to put my hands all over it when I next come home.
Missing u, she types back.
I can't wait until you're fully mine. There's so much I plan to do to you, Lady Malgus.
But while her appearance has Gaius' full attention, it also has Mother's attention lately too. Mother's assessment is not quite as complimentary, Portia soon discovers. At dinner that night, Lady Oderint starts appraising her openly. It begins innocuously enough, but soon progresses to uncomfortable.
"Portia, I think perhaps we should start trying new hairstyles for you," Mother suggests. "The headband, braids, and ponytails are fine for school. But let's try some more grownup styles too. My maid is very good with a center part chignon. With your height, that could be extremely elegant."
"I thought you didn't like how tall I am," Portia mumbles. At five foot eleven, she has eight inches over Mother and seven inches over Appolonia. She looms tall over the women of her family and looks her big brother in the eye. Part of Gaius' physical appeal, she knows, is how small he makes her feel by comparison. For too often, Portia can feel like a hovering hulk beside her more petite female friends and family members.
"Your stature can't be helped at this point," Mother gives a resigned shrug. Figure flaws are akin to character flaws in Mother's mind. But Lady Oderint urges acceptance in this case since it's not like she can lop off her legs to improve matters. "It's best to embrace your height and learn to dress for it. Your impression will never be cute. You have a presence that other young ladies your age do not. We should make it your hallmark rather than something to explain. My dear, you could be very striking one day with the right wardrobe and some good supportive undergarments."
"If you say so . . ." Portia is wary that she's about to become Mother's new project. She has long wanted more of Mother's attention, so this ordinarily might be a good thing. Except the timing and the topic are now awkward for a reason she cannot explain—namely, her pledge to Gaius.
Mother frowns across the table at her. "It does seem like your figure is developing by the day. You're getting very womanly looking, especially up top. Far more so at seventeen than your sister is now at twenty."
Is that criticism? Is she being called fat? Portia isn't sure. "Uhhhh . . . yes, Mother." This conversation is starting to make her feel very self-conscious. Portia stares down at her plate in dismay.
"Do watch your figure, dear. Gone are the days when plump was considered to be pleasing. This isn't Marka Ragnos' Empire."
"You think I'm fat," Portia whispers in a small voice.
"No, but you could be if you're not careful," Mother replies, never being one to sugarcoat matters. Tough love, as always, being the default approach to Sith parenting. "Tall women can tend to appear big. Best to keep those curves in check. A big bosom is vulgar, never chic. And a beefy derriere," Mother shudders at the thought, "well, that's very common and very colonial. Men of our class will not find it attractive no matter how slim your waist is by comparison."
"Yes, Mother," Portia responds in an even smaller voice, pushing her dinner plate away as she feels her cheeks burn.
"And another thing. I know Julia and your other friends favor cutesy styles. Silly fingernails, jewelry with charms, tacky, trendy bijoux, tiny purses . . . that sort of thing. That's all very appropriate for a schoolgirl. But I think it's time to leave all that behind. I think elegant should be your look. You must present yourself as you wish to be perceived, you know. Soon, you'll be on the lookout for a match."
"Not with Appy's wedding being delayed," Portia reminds her, hoping to quell Mother's sudden interest in a makeover.
"Yes, well, I've been thinking about that. If the war goes on too long, it will be unfair to ask you to wait for Apollonia to marry before you can make a match. I'd want you to wait for Apollonia's wedding before your ceremony, of course. But we can start thinking about your prospects soon. You deserve a chance to get your future settled."
Her sister instantly bristles. "But Mother—"
"Apollonia, no one is going to steal your thunder. We will be sure to wait a good interval between your events and your sister's."
Portia chokes. "But I thought you and Cato both wanted me to wait."
"No one wants to rush you. There's plenty of time. But I think Cato would be happy to see you with a bridegroom to look after you, what with the war on and all . . . Every woman needs as many male protectors as she can get with the threat of Jedi around. And then," Mother concludes brightly, "you can discontinue those horrid saber lessons you're taking. So unfeminine!" she vents her disdain.
Portia is caught off guard. This all feels far too imminent. Flustered, she blurts out, "Isn't Cato the one who needs to marry next?" as a stall tactic.
Mother nods. "Rest assured that I plan to have a serious discussion with your brother when he comes home on leave."
"Mother has another list of brides for him to consider," Apollonia pipes up.
"Another list? I thought Cato tore the last one up."
"He did, that wretched boy," Lady Oderint scowls. "But it is imperative that he marry and keep the family name going lest some Jedi gets him first. It's his duty as a Metellus to give me some grandsons. You too, girls. If the last war taught us anything, it is that the Sith are one precarious generation from disappearing."
On that gloomy note, Mother decrees, "Appollonia, I'd like Portia to accompany you to the Sulla betrothal party next week. It will be good for her to attend more events where there are young Lords around."
"But Mother—" Portia objects.
Just as Apollonia complains, "But Mother—"
"No 'buts', girls. It's important that you learn what you like in a man, Portia. And for that, you need to spend time around young Lords. There aren't many forums for that these days, so you must not waste opportunities." With a pointed look, Mother concludes, "Your sister will tell you—marriage is a big decision. It is not to be entered into lightly without the proper preparation and diligence." With that speech, Mother stands from the table and glides off, presumably back to her bedroom cloister.
When she is safely out of earshot, Portia hisses across the table to her sister, "Did you put her up to this?"
"Me? Don't look at me!" Apollonia immediately disavows responsibility. "I don't want you hanging out with my friends. You're a baby schoolgirl and we're all married or betrothed grown women."
Portia rolls her eyes. "As if I want to hang around your stupid friends. They're boring."
"Not boring, mature. There's a difference, but you'll have to grow up some to figure it out."
"Appy, you're insufferable."
"May I suggest Lord Connive?" her sister gloats. "He'll be there Friday night. Maybe he'll be your match . . . if he's gotten over losing out to Traverse for me, that is," she smirks, twirling her hair.
"I don't want your sloppy seconds! I won't even consider any Lord that you considered!" Portia hotly declares.
Her sister shrugs. "Suit yourself. I already have the best. Traverse is everything I want in a husband."
"Including the pimples?" Portia goes low.
Appy refuses to acknowledge the hit. "We will live happily ever after," she predicts with irritating smugness. "We'll have several fine sons, I'm sure of it."
"Whatever," Portia huffs as she jumps up and flees the room.
But not before Appy calls after her, "You really are getting fat. Don't pretend like you haven't noticed."
Portia runs to the safety of her room, where she indulges in a fit of tears. This is wrong—all wrong! Not too long ago, all she wanted was to grow up. But now, she wants to hold back that progression to wait for Gaius. First, Lord Azamin and then the Temple Ladies, and now even Mother wants to focus on her future. It's making Portia feel very pressured. And yes, she herself had cried many tears a few months ago when Apollonia's wedding was postponed. So, Mother probably thinks she's giving her what she wants by beginning the betrothal process. But that was before she promised to wait for Gaius.
Truthfully, waiting for Gaius is the secret plan that has helped Portia to make peace with the upheaval the war has caused on her personal life. She might not have the usual debutante social whirl to look forward to upon graduation. But that's fine because she has a secret long-distance suitor who's way more exciting than the usual thing. Her Lord is exotically handsome, with a bona fide heroic war record, and an origin story that's straight out of a fairytale. Yes, he's brusque, obnoxious, and ambitious in a way that rubs others the wrong way. But that's part of his quirky charm-Gaius is a guy who's impossible to ignore.
Like it or not, Gaius matters and he's here to stay, and Portia herself is half convinced that his time will come. Soon, Lord Malgus will have glory to spare. That's subversive and challenging to most people of her class. But she gets a little thrill from taking his side. Plus, his kisses get her excited in a way that she has trouble putting into words to Julia. It's like all the man has to do is look at her and Portia's half willing to melt into his arms. They have chemistry together. It's an inexplicable but undeniable attraction that crosses all sorts of social boundaries.
Already, Portia has imagined scenarios for how their flirtation might end. Sometimes, it's triumphant success and they're married in a shocking but prescient love match. Some may shake their heads but all are jealous. Other times, it ends in ugly disgrace. She's a tragic heroine who lives out her days pining for the lost and forever faithful love who is denied to her by social prejudice. And sometimes, she jilts Gaius for a safer, more conventional choice at the behest of her family. It's a personal sacrifice that makes her a paragon of pureblood virtue and gains Mother's forever approval.
And when she's in her most dramatic, romantic moods, Portia indulges in the luridly depressing possibilities. Those are the outcomes in which she loves Gaius and he loves her, but Cato kills him and Gaius dies in her arms. The Jedi can't martyr the Sith's newest, greatest hero, but love does. There's also a scenario in which they run away together and she gets disowned. She's sad about the rift with Cato but honestly, she's relieved to be away from Portia and Mother. There's even a fantasy ending when they flee to the Republic. Because if the Empire and the Sith won't accept their union, then they will escape to the other side of the galaxy to be together. They live on the run in hiding, happily ever after killing Jedi. But however things end, in each case, the drama is juicy and she and Gaius both play their respective roles admirably. She's defiant and steadfast, he's aggressive and devoted. It's waaaay more exciting than anything Apollonia and Darth Traverse will ever get up to.
These are the daydreams that occupy her thoughts. There's not much else to do these days anyway. Heretofore, that has been a good thing. The absence of social events to attend and the general lack of young, eligible Lords around has helped to take the pressure off the promise she made to Gaius. It's not like she has any other suitors to consider. But suddenly, that circumstance might be changing.
What should she do? She asks Gaius.
Use the same strategy as with Azamin—bide your time and play along.
Miffed, she types back, Does that mean you want me to flirt with other Lords?
NO. If any Lord tries to fix his attentions, find a reason to reject him. You need to give me enough time to make the case for our betrothal.
Okay.
You promised that you would wait for me.
I'm trying. This is all Azamin's fault. He's the one feeding these ideas to Mother, I'm sure of it.
Has he asked you about me?
No. I think he's waiting for me to bring it up.
Don't.
I won't.
Just play along. Don't give anyone reason to be suspicious.
So, she plays along. Portia strives to appear enthusiastic about finding a match. She lets Mother dress her up and drag her to events. She takes direction to act aloof and reserved, which Mother feels will bolster her new elegant image and contrast favorably with the more giggly competition. Portia dutifully wears flat shoes to look shorter and the uncomfortably tight minimizer bra Mother insists on. She even makes a halfhearted attempt to beguile a school-chum's older brother while Mother looks on. Later that week, Portia sees Darth Azamin in the garden and gushes all about the tedious party like it was the highlight of her year. She also makes sure to name drop a few young Lords she's recently met. Because she's game for this fake out if it will earn her Gaius.
But in the back of her mind, all Portia can think of is the socially awkward and overly aggressive Lord who increasingly occupies her heart. She doesn't act demure or fancy around him—Gaius has read her occasionally profane and always colloquial texts. He's seen her brazen half naked pics sent over a secret comlink. He knows she's taking sword lessons. She even once threw him into a rosebush. Those are not the acts of a well-behaved young Lady and yet Gaius revels in her rebellion. Is she secretly becoming as brash as he is? Maybe. She can't decide. But the point is that Gaius wants her as she is, unfiltered, unrestrained, and unapologetic. Their connection, which began as contempt and aversion, has morphed into strong attraction. The man sets her heart fluttering from a mere five-word message sent from across the galaxy. Is it any wonder that in person in Azamin's garden their physical chemistry felt so magnetic? There's nothing contrived or tame or arm's length about them. There's nothing safe about them either for already, they have been discovered. And maybe that's part of the defiant thrill. Their relationship is the antithesis of the usual strategic and choreographed courtship ritual like Apollonia and Traverse had.
So yes, Portia will outwardly aim to please. But when the next outing is over and the night is done, she will reach under her pillow and pull out her comlink and stare at pictures of the lean faced colonial with the hulking body who lures her more than any eligible young Lord ever could. Gaius doesn't give a damn what other people think, Portia tells herself. She wants some of that attitude for herself. Because how liberating would it be not to care any longer? As Lady Malgus, she plots, she will live beyond life's conventional expectations. She will please just herself and her husband and the rest of the haters can hate. Suddenly, her forbidden beaux starts to represent more than just rebellion. He's also something of an escape mechanism. The future he's promising is just so much more enticing than her real-life options. And the acceptance and approval he showers her with is a welcome change from Mother's criticism and Apollonia's tattling. And so, day by day, Portia sinks deeper into the conspiracy with Gaius. She can't wait for him to return to Dromund Kaas for more kisses.
