Portia holds her breath as she types the message. Want to get married tonight? You know . . . just in case the invasion happens. It would have to be in secret.
YES! But can we do that?
I have a plan.
So wait-you would defy your family to marry me? Because that's not been your view until now.
Defy is the wrong word. Think of it more like anticipating their consent. We can tell them when we're ready.
When will that be?
Whenever we decide. If it's years, then so be it.
Portia figures they will wait until a time when her family will be more receptive to the news. Maybe when Gaius' career is more established or when he is in better favor with the Palace. In time, when he's an indisputable hero, the news will go over better, she hopes.
Gaius is less keen on a long wait. Years? This is a crazy idea.
I know. But if tomorrow changes everything and you leave straightaway and we won't see each other for a while, then I want to be Lady Malgus tonight. I want us to be together completely, even if it's in secret.
Would it be legal?
Probably not since there's no contract. But does that matter? We would be married in the Force. Together forever in the Force.
So, no dowry or financial settlement?
You said that you aren't pursuing me for my family's wealth.
True. This change of heart is because of the invasion, isn't it?
Yes, she freely admits.
The risk of an invasion and a second genocide has always been present. But with the possibility now reasonably imminent, it feels like she's arrived at an inflection point. In the face of danger, Portia wants to take action. Rather than sit around and wait for the worst to happen, she wants to exert control over her life . . . before some Jedi comes to end it. Just the other day, she made a flippant deal with Cato not to marry during the war. But here she is, abruptly reneging. Why? Because tonight everything seems poised to change, and she wants Gaius to be the constant in her life going forward. She's grabbing for emotional ballast, and she knows it. But it feels right.
Gaius now rather uncharacteristically urges caution. Fear can lead people to make bad decisions. A crisis is not usually the time to make life altering, permanent choices.
That sounds like Lord Azamin talking. Portia pushes back. Or, a crisis can make clear the stakes and reveal your priorities. Decisions become self-evident when extraneous considerations fall away.
In some ways, this secret wedding she's proposing is happening very fast. But in the context of their arranged marriage culture in which a bride and groom typically meet perhaps five times before their wedding, she and Gaius arguably know far more about one another than the typical couple does when they make their commitment. So, is this really as rash as it seems? Portia thinks not.
Adraas will justifiably murder me if we do this.
He already has cause to murder you. One look at her comlink pics and Cato's eyes will turn permanently yellow. Force lightning might just come out his ears.
True, but this is next level provocation.
Not if it remains a secret.
How does this plan work exactly?
An old Lady in my Temple group did something like this fifty years ago. She and her husband snuck into a Temple at night, said the words, slashed their hands, and did the deed. The next day, they told everyone they were married.
And?
It was a fait accompli. At that point, no other young Lord was going to marry her. It was the husband or nobody. Her family threatened to kill him and withheld the dowry. He had to pay some big fine to the Palace. But in the end, everyone came around. It worked out. She says it's been happily ever after going on six decades now.
What was the objection? Why couldn't they marry?
The husband had close family members on the proscription list.
That's bad. But is it worse than being a random?
Definitely.
I'm not so sure.
Definitely. No matter how people feel about you personally, no one doubts your value to the Empire. Are you still leading in war prizes?
No. Since Angral assigned me to battle planning, I've done a lot fewer raids. I'm trailing in prizes and in bounties now. I'm not sure I'm even in the top ten any longer.
That proves my point—you contribute to the Empire. More lately with your brain than with your sword. That puts you a long way from proscription.
Babe, this is a crazy idea. But tell me more.
Think of it like your Sluis Van attack—we'd be acting strategically in order to preempt my family's opposition. All's fair in love and war.
Fair is irrelevant in this context. This is about power and your family holds all the power in the form of their consent.
This upends that dynamic.
It certainly attempts to do so. Adraas will justifiably kill me. And if he doesn't, Azamin will.
Maybe not if they know how important you are to me. They love me. They want to see me happy. So does Mother. Don't forget that.
You won't be the one facing down a sword—I will. Every male relative you have will want to murder me.
They might try. But if you duel, you have to promise not to kill them. Seriously, Gaius. I won't let you kill Cato.
Read that last sentence again and let it sink in how crazy this scheme is.
Actually, Cato can't duel you now anyway. He's still wounded. So maybe this is the perfect time to do this. Plus, no one will know if we keep it a secret. There is no issue of a duel until someone knows.
So . . . don't get caught and hope for the best? Is that your strategy?
Yes.
You wouldn't be able to tell anyone. Not even Julia. Could you do that?
Yes.
What about the Palace? We need their consent as well.
You have no name, no money, and your power is a fluke of the Force with no demonstrated inheritance capacity. What's the grounds for objection? There's no undue concentration of power with our union.
Here's the objection: we didn't get their sign-off.
My point is that the issue isn't substantive, it's procedural. You failed to follow the notice rules, and you will be fined for it. So, what? You're already out of favor with the Palace.
This makes it worse. Plus, I'll be broke. All of this will impact my career negatively. Everyone hates me now, but they will REALLY hate me after this.
There are like ten memes of you on the holonet doing your thing. The commonfolk love you. You're their hero.
They don't matter.
During time of war, will the Palace really be interested in punishing you? Let's beg forgiveness rather than ask permission.
I suppose we could wait until after the war's over or until I'm more important to tell everyone.
I like that plan. There's no rush.
This is a crazy idea. But I'm listening. Tell me more.
I can get us in the Temple. The priest gave all of the foresight circle members 24-7 access if we want to come by to pray or meditate afterhours. We've got a family heirloom wedding dagger. It's with the stuff I put in the transport to take with us. I'll bring it.
How are you going to hide a slashed hand?
Mother won't notice.
Your sister will.
We'll make the cuts very small. I think technically all you have to do is draw blood. I'll make up some excuse for my mark and you can hide your hand under a glove while it heals.
And what if I get you pregnant tonight?
Oh. She hadn't thought about that possibility. That wouldn't be good. But maybe a grandchild is the leverage she needs to get Mother on her side. And just think how green with envy Apollonia will be when she gets pregnant first. So, maybe a baby isn't the worst thing that could happen.
Portia types back. If I get pregnant, then the secret comes out sooner and it's really a done deal.
Your family is not going to like being forced like this.
I know. But is it better to ask them, be told no, and do it anyway? Look, it's five minutes in and out of the sanctuary. We say the words, cut, and consummate. Then, the secret is ours to keep.
I want more than five minutes to consummate.
Sorry, but not tonight. Can't. Get. Caught.
Do you really want to do this?
Yes.
And do you understand the risks? Your family could murder you in an old-fashioned honor killing or condemn you to the Palace Temple as a whore for this.
Not gonna happen. Those are theoretical risks only. Not for a Metellus girl.
You sure about that? Because this could get very ugly, very fast.
I'm sure. My family loves me. And Mother would never stand for that sort of blot on the family's reputation. It would reflect badly on her as a mother and maybe even on Appy too. The scandal would be huge. Trust me, my family will want to keep this very quiet. They'll be pissed, but they'll hush it up and put a good public face on it.
I guess you know them better than I do. But what about the risk that I die by the sword courtesy of your furious brother/cousin/uncle/other outraged male relative?
You can out fence Cato and the rest of my menfolk. You might have been a match for Grandpa Valerius at his prime but not now. He'll just glower at you and maybe try to choke you with the Force. It will blow over in time.
Doubtful. And what about Azamin?
Bust out that red lightning again.
WTF? I can't kill Darth Azamin! That geezer's like a treasure of the Empire and buddies with Vitiate. He's on the f-ing Dark Council, too. Killing him is like committing treason, especially in time of war. And besides, I kind of like him.
I kind of like him too :-) Okay. Then, I'll handle Lord Azamin.
With what? Tears?
Probably. Gaius, you're looking at this all wrong. You're thinking that things will play out like they always do going forward. But after tomorrow, things might never be the same. Are any of these rules going to matter if Dromund Kaas falls to the Republic? If there are Jedi running through the streets, who will care that we blew off the Palace and got married? If the survival of the Sith becomes paramount, then we might need to revive the old 'go forth and multiply' policies of Marka Ragnos. Everyone will be commanded to marry and procreate. What we do could be condoned in that context.
Is this how you want to marry? In secret without any parties or even a fancy dress? Because that doesn't sound like you. You'd be missing out on a lot of experiences girls spend their whole lives anticipating.
Apollonia cares about those things more than I do. And realistically, even if my family agreed to let us marry, we wouldn't be having any big celebration now anyway.
Can you live poor as Lady Malgus for a few years? I don't have your family's bank account. I have some war prizes and that's it. I won't be able to afford for us to live like you're used to.
Money doesn't matter to me.
You only say that because you're rich.
Cato won't let us starve. Plus, I think some of the trusts from my mother's side of the family are in my own name. They vest when I marry or turn eighteen, I believe. I can check. He left all the family financials.
You're really committed to this scheme, aren't you?
Yes.
Is there nothing I can say to talk you out of this?
Nope.
Okay, then I quit playing devil's advocate.
? So . . . are you in? Are we doing this?
You had me at 'wanna get married?'
You know, you could have said that earlier.
I did say that earlier. But I wanted to make sure we both thought through the consequences.
It's a secret. There will be no immediate consequences.
Unless we get caught.
Can't. Get. Caught. Won't. Get. Caught.
Or unless I knock you up.
We'll worry about that if it happens. My cousin's been trying to get pregnant for over two years. It doesn't always happen fast.
You caught me by surprise—I wasn't anticipating this. This is sort of like that rosebush.
You'll find I'm full of surprises. But it's cool if you need more time to think about it.
No. I'm in. Let's do this. When and where?
Meet me at my Temple at midnight. Try to look inconspicuous. Wear a Lord's cloak and street clothes. No armor.
Which Temple?
In my neighborhood. At the top of the Palatine Hill.
The ancient super fancy parish?
Yes. That's the one. Assuming all goes well, maybe afterwards we can go back to your house for an hour or so?
I like the sound of that. Give Appy and your mother some Force sleep. I want you in my bed until dawn, Lady Malgus.
Yes, my Lord and Master.
Save that talk for later. You'll get me hot and hard in this speeder.
Wait—are you still with Angral?!
Yes. He's flying and I'm riding shotgun while he gives me dirty looks.
Why didn't you say something? Put your comlink down!
Nah. He's not reading this. He's flying.
He knows it's me you're texting, doesn't he?
I'm sure he suspects. Angral's got bigger things on his mind than us. His wife is eight months pregnant with twins and pre-term labor and he's worried about where to send her tomorrow where she'll get good medical care. Look, the guy's a family man. Angral understands that I'm worried about the people who are important to me.
Okay. I guess . . .
In case I forget to say this, I want you to know how glad I am that you are so independent. The day I met you when you threw me into that bush, I knew that you were a girl who could handle herself in almost any situation. I worry that could get tested soon.
Me too.
Seriously tho—the boss told his family and now he's got a slew of hysterical female relatives blowing up his comlink demanding that he personally escort them to safety. Not gonna happen . . . the dude's a Naval commander. But poor Angral's getting an earful anyway like he's being neglectful because they're all so helpless.
Duty calls. I get it. And I'll never be helpless.
Stay ride or die for me, babe, and we'll get through this, I promise.
After tonight, we'll be together forever in the Force.
Yep. What the Sith cannot put asunder, the Galactic Republic damn well cannot. The war might separate us, but only physically.
And not for long. I saw you victorious in my vision. Gaius, I think you pretty much singlehandedly conquered Coruscant.
I guess that's when we'll tell your family. Because that's probably the only thing I could ever do to convince Adraas that I'm good enough for you. Text me when you leave tonight?
Will do. Don't leave until I do. I don't want you getting noticed loitering around the Temple waiting for me.
Copy that, Lady Malgus.
May the Force be with us.
Amen to that.
Excited and more than a little afraid, Portia spends the evening on the final preparations to flee her homeworld. The plan is to retreat to her family's colonial summer estate initially. From there, they will reassess the situation. If necessary, the family will flee deeper into the Empire.
Fortunately, Appy did visit Cato like she promised and he shared the news with her about the risk of an imminent invasion. Her sister took the warning to heart and ran home to tell Mother. As Apollonia and Mother spend the evening packing, Portia supervises the servants loading up the most important Metellus family heirlooms. They will take some of those items with them, and the rest of the family's treasures will follow in a secondary transport along with the servants.
Portia restricts her own packing to essentials, whereas Mother and Appy seem determined to be the galaxy's best dressed war refugees. But whatever, that's fine—the pair are so engrossed in their efforts that Portia is an afterthought. If Mother and Appy are still up when it's time to meet Gaius, Portia plots that she will make the excuse that she's going to the Temple to pray for their people, as the priest Darth Rampart has encouraged the foresight circle members to do. Given the gravity of the situation, she doubts that she will receive any pushback.
Around ten o'clock, Gaius resumes texting.
Checking in. Are we still doing this?
Jumpy Portia responds, Does this text mean you want to back out?
Not a chance. You are perfect for me. Your plan is a very me thing to do, BTW.
I can be bold too, she boasts.
I love it. I'm counting down the minutes until midnight. I can't believe you will really be mine.
She gushes back. Being your wife will be a dream come true.
She really means this. Portia feels she can face whatever the future holds if she has Gaius helping her make decisions. That's no disrespect to Cato's role as her brother, but more a statement of how much she has come to adopt Gaius' vision of the future.
There isn't much time to primp, but Portia manages to steal a few moments before the mirror. If this were a proper wedding ceremony, she would be dressed in an exquisite bespoke black lace gown, not a serviceable day dress. Traditionally, Sith wedding dresses are the equivalent of a lingerie peignoir with nothing worn beneath. A bride arrives to the Temple dressed to be seduced. She wears her father's Lord's cloak to conceal her body from prying eyes. But when her father presents her to the groom at the Temple door, the cloak is removed. Thus, the bride is given away. When the private ceremony at the altar concludes, the bride emerges from the Temple wearing her new husband's Lord's cloak. The change in garment symbolizes how responsibility for her well-being has passed from her father to her husband. For in the rigid patriarchy of the Sith, a society entranced by concepts of dominance, possession, and control, a woman never stands alone in her own right. She is always understood in context of her relationship to a Lord.
Tonight will be different. Portia will present herself for marriage. Without her family's knowledge or consent, she is independently entrusting her future to Gaius. It's one more way in which this elopement departs from accepted social norms. She's taking a big step away from convention, and Portia has no illusions to the contrary. If only Apollonia knew, she would eat that comment about her being boring.
The Sith marriage ceremony she and Gaius will perform tonight is as ancient as it is concise. The simple wedding vows are a restatement of the Sith Code. That's very fitting, for theirs is a culture of purpose and commitments. The ties that bind husband and wife are the same ties that bind a Master and an Apprentice, a priest and his parish, and even the Dark Lord and his vassals. That too is very Sith, for unity of purpose is emblematic of the Shadow Force devotees.
The wedding vows are spoken before the altar in private. They are a blood oath, sealed with ritual violence. Traditionally, husband and wife each slash their left hand to bear witness to their union. The wound is untreated and purposefully left to scar. The resulting mark is a lifelong symbol of the marriage commitment, which itself does not end until death. For there is no divorce among the Sith elite. Like so many of the undertakings of her people, there is no exit strategy. The Dark Side takes forever very seriously.
In keeping with the impatient nature of the Shadow Force, marriages are consummated on the spot. The virgin bride's lingerie Temple dress is put to good use as she is deflowered at the altar. Ritual penetration accomplished, the pair then exits the privacy of the Temple to rejoin waiting friends and family who fete them into the wee hours with a lavish party. This time, the bride wears a gown fit for public viewing as she dances the night away.
She and Gaius won't have any celebration, of course. But the barebones requirements of the marriage ceremony will be accomplished tonight. It will be especially romantic, Portia tells herself. For the extraneous trappings of the typical modern wedding will be stripped away to focus on the crux of the matter: the union of two Dark souls by the Force for the duration of their lifetimes.
Tonight harkens back to a bygone era, she muses. Back to the original Empire cobbled together by Dark Lord Marka Ragnos when the Sith were no less proud but far less prosperous. Back to an austere time when today's rampant displays of luxury would be considered soft and shamefully indulgent. Back to the retro values of discretion, stealth, and secrecy, when her people lived and died by their wits and strategy. For those times may be returning fast, Portia knows. Soon, her people may once again become hunted exiles who live in the shadows and seek to deflect attention rather than to attract it. But this time, it will be temporary, Portia firmly believes, because the Force has revealed to her the eventual Dark Side victory. In the end, the Sith truly shall rule the galaxy.
By eleven that night, Mother has taken a sleeping pill and slipped into a deep slumber. Then, stressed looking Appy pokes her head into the bedroom to announce that she too will retire for the evening. In a rare moment of solidarity, Appy tells Portia that she wants them both to visit Cato first thing tomorrow morning. Appy wants the younger generation of the family to be together whenever Darth Angral communicates the Emperor's decision to Cato. It might be a long time before we see Cato again, her sister says solemnly. Maybe never. The resigned, quietly terrified look on her face prompts Portia to cross the room and tug her big sister into a rare hug.
"The Sith endure," Portia quotes Gaius alluding to an old Dark Side maxim. "The Metellus clan will endure as well. Like Darkness endures."
The words are meant to soothe, but instead the pep talk provokes a flood of held-back tears from Apollonia. "Force save us all," her sister chokes as she gives vent to her fear, "especially Traverse." Then, her sister admits, "I was wrong about your sword lessons. Cato was right to make you take them. I wish I had learned now."
"You'll be fine. Here." Portia rummages into a drawer to find the blaster Cato left with her before his deployment. "Take this for tonight." She gives Appy the weapon, knowing that she has learned the basics on how to use it. "It might help you rest easier."
"Thanks. What about you?"
"I have this." Portia shows her the lightsaber Gaius gave her this morning at the hospital.
Portia waits for Apollonia to go off to bed. When she is satisfied that her sister is resting, she summons the Force to add some additional sedation. It's so Appy doesn't hear her creep out of the house. And because her sister already looks exhausted and tomorrow could be the first of many long, harrowing days.
And now, Portia unwinds her tight chignon to let her hair fall in loose waves about her shoulders. This is her one concession to the usual bride costume—the undone, flowing hair that a young virgin girl traditionally wears to the altar. Portia next settles an enveloping black cloak about her shoulders and lifts the hood up to conceal her features. It's the Ladies' version of a Lord's cloak, worn mostly for high holidays at the Temple. Portia secrets her new lightsaber into a pocket. Then, she grabs her comlink and types a quick message.
Leaving now.
Gaius' reply is almost immediate.
On my way.
