A/N: Many thanks to Buttercup for her beta help! I hope you all enjoy the chapter. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

The Dutiful Wife

WendyNat

Chapter One
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Natrie sighed, peering through the crowd to try to catch a glimpse of her husband. The room was large, but broken up in such a way as to create a feeling of intimacy – a perfect venue for a social event of this type, but not the simplest to find a person in. She ground her teeth as she adjusted the strap of her silver gown – it was new, specially ordered for this event by her husband, and she supposed it was quite attractive. However, she would have preferred to choose her own gown. These types of straps never sat well on her shoulders, and she'd told her husband that time and again.

She murmured an apology to a server when she nearly knocked over his tray of faceted goblets while craning her neck to catch sight of her husband. The server looked at her in surprise – more at the apology than the near-accident, she was certain. Seeming to be unsure how to respond, the man apologized profusely and moved off, and she shook her head. Where was her husband? She hoped he would be ready to leave soon, but the more realistic part of her knew that it would be hours, yet, before they could escape. Of course, he wouldn't view it as an escape; he loved these functions, loved the politics and intrigue and social climbing.

She, on the other hand, hated them. She hated having to smile and shake hands with officers below her husband's rank, hated having to smile and bow to the officers above her husband's rank, hated having to socialize with the other wives. There were only a few that were tolerable, one was actually a friend of sorts, but the others… she sighed, and smiled at yet another simpering wife of a lower-ranking officer, and waited for her husband to announce that the evening had grown long. Despite the beautiful surroundings, it was dull to her – a scene she'd experienced a hundred times before. Flocks of decorated women mingled with gray-suited officers, men that wore the uniform as a mark of pride rather than simple cloth. Her husband was one of those men.

Finally, she caught sight of him. She had to admit, he still cut an impressive figure in his sharp, gray Imperial uniform. He was speaking to another officer, of course, but one that was at least two ranks above him to judge by the insignia on his uniform. It would be a long night, she realized as she watched her husband lean his head back and let out that irritating, fake laugh.

It was sometimes hard, on these occasions, to remember the times before. It seemed like it was another lifetime, like it was another Natrie who had gone through the motions and said the words and felt those now-foreign emotions: love, admiration, desire. She hadn't always hated her husband. At one time, she had loved him.

She nodded politely at the younger woman who approached and shook her hand, and took the drink the attractive blonde offered, murmuring a greeting and receiving the woman's name in return. Sera Saan, wife of a junior officer serving under her husband. She stifled a sigh.

As Sera began to drone on, "casually" mentioning the many accomplishments of her husband in an attempt to impress Natrie, her mind began to wander. On the outside, she lifted her eyebrows in feigned admiration, frowned as she pretended to pay attention to the young woman's words, smiled at appropriate intervals. On the inside, she was remembering a lifetime ago, when she had loved her husband.

When she had first met him, she was very much in love – or what a young, dreamy woman considered to be love. He was dashing and intense and convicted, and when she was with him, there was nothing else around but her. With the wisdom of age, she now wondered if she had been more in love with that feeling of being desired, than in love with the man himself.

It mattered little. At the time, she had been in love, and no one could tell her differently.

Nodding again as Sera paused, Natrie feigned an impressed expression, wondering if this young woman really believed in and loved her husband, or simply loved the extra credits a higher rank would offer. Most of the women she met through the officers' gatherings had fought, tooth and nail, to marry… but they wanted to marry the position, not the man.

Their conversation was interrupted when a server approached with a well-laden tray. She smiled at the server, the first true smile she'd worn since arriving at the formal gathering, and shook her head. "No, thank you." She hated the bubbly drink that was being passed around on shining silver trays, almost as much as she hated the cramping in her cheeks from the false smile she had to maintain. She had mentioned it once to her husband, and only received a blank stare in return; he couldn't understand how she could dislike these events, how the endless maneuvering of sycophants ate away at her patience.

As Sera began to speak again, this time describing how she'd met the perfect man that was her husband, Natrie's mind once again began to wander. A perfect man. When her husband had first courted her, he had been charming and warm, and blazing with an intensity that fascinated her. He truly believed in the new Empire, and his enthusiasm had convinced her, for some years, that it was the correct path for the galaxy to take. How could it not be, when strong young men such as these put their faith in it?

She still remembered how his eyes had lit with a strange fervor when he spoke of meeting the Emperor. At the time, he had been a simple ensign in the Empire's Navy, but the Emperor had taken the time to meet his gaze, had nodded at him, and he was so moved by the experience that, from that moment on, he would hear no ill of the deformed man.

She had little family left, but those that yet lived loved him, for the most part. Her mother had adored Natrie's new suitor, so dedicated and hard-working, so poised to go on to greater things, and so very devoted to her daughter. Mother had been ecstatic when the wedding was announced, though it was sooner than she would have liked. Her aunts, also, loved him, as did her uncle. The only person in her family who did not agree was the one she most wanted to love her new suitor – her father's mother, her last living paternal relative. The old woman had never trusted him, claiming that his smile was too slick, his answers too quick, and his nature too strict and possessive. She'd disliked him from the very instant they had met, her wise eyes darkening as he expounded on the glory of the Emperor.

Perhaps, if she'd listened to her grandmother in the beginning, she could have avoided the predicament in which she now found herself. But, instead of listening when her grandmother spoke to her about her concerns, Natrie had risen to his defense, all bristling nerves and righteous indignation. The ensuing row had ended with Natrie in tears and her grandmother comforting her, but it had also ended in Natrie flinging herself straight into the man's arms. She would show her. She would show her just how strong their love was, how wonderful her suitor was!

Two months later, she had married the dashing young lieutenant, and they were happy, and they were in love. For a while.

After her marriage, she visited her grandmother once while her husband was on an assignment. They had spoken of the weather and the family, the Empire and the Jedi, but they didn't speak of Natrie's husband. They both carefully avoided the subject, not wishing to argue again about a subject that they knew held no common ground. She had learned, on that visit, that her grandmother didn't believe that the Jedi had betrayed the Republic. The Jedi had protected the Republic for centuries, had protected her family during the war, had taken in two of her sons to be trained as Jedi; the old woman did not believe they could have gone to evil. Natrie, with the 'wisdom' of youth, had shaken her head, and pitied her – she was an old woman clinging to the past, ignoring the truth of the present. Her new husband wouldn't follow an evil man; it was just malicious hate-mongering, and she thought it a shame that someone had filled her dear grandmother's head with such thoughts.

The memory was vivid, still. Even here, in this brightly lit room, surrounded by these followers of the Empire, she could remember it with clarity. She nodded at Sera, made an encouraging noise or two, and then let memory take her.

"Lies," her grandmother whispered. "They're lies, I know this, but Natrie – be careful. Don't let anyone know. The Emperor… he will not allow such talk. Keep it quiet."

"Lies? But, Grandma-"

"Listen!" Her grandmother reached up and touched her hair, her cheek, and Natrie was suddenly struck by the trembling in the old woman's fingers. How old was her grandmother? "Natrie, listen to me. I don't know everything that happened, but the Jedi were good. If they tried to assassinate the Chancellor, it's because it was what had to be done."

"Grandmother-"

"Natrie," she mimicked, then sat back, her hand falling limply to the armrest of her chair. "You'll see. You'll see, in time. He wants power, that's all. Power and control. Look at what he's done, taking control of the entire Senate, renaming it the Galactic Empire under his rule-"

"The Senate needed a single ruler. Look what happened, with all the star systems arguing and debating things to death, we ended up in war." And my father died in that war, Natrie thought viciously, but she didn't say it aloud. Her father had been her grandmother's son, after all, and the wound had to bite her even deeper than it did Natrie.

Her grandmother sat forward then, her mouth twisted with some unknown emotion. "Keep that line, Natrie. Remember it, and say it loudly. It is the line of a loyal citizen of the Empire. Of a loyal Imperial wife." A shaking hand reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Natrie's ear. "But in private, don't believe it all. Trust your instincts; trust the truth."

She murmured an affirmative, but they both knew she was just being polite. The curse of youth – she already knew it all, and had no patience for other ideas.

Shortly after that visit, she had celebrated the first anniversary of her marriage, and found that she carried the child of the man that had charmed her so.

Mierie. She smiled inwardly as she thought of her daughter. Beautiful and bright and with such a caring soul, Natrie doted on her. It was the one thing she and her husband had in common – their love of that young girl. Natrie knew that she saw her through a mother's filter, the filter that made even the most unfortunate-looking child appear lovely and the dullest child appear intelligent, but the feedback she received from tutors and other parents seemed to support her position. She wondered, as Sera droned on, whether the young blonde had children of her own, or if her husband was the focus of all her attention.

Children.

She took a sip of the drink and barely avoided wincing. The liquid was too rich for her, too sweet, though it seemed to please the young woman talking to her. It reminded Natrie of the sickeningly sweet restoratives that her grandmother had sipped, in her last years of life. And that brought another memory to the surface.

A couple of years after Mierie was born, her grandmother had fallen ill. Leaving Mierie with her husband, Natrie had returned to her grandmother's home for a couple of days, to say her farewells. For the illness wasn't one from which humans generally recovered, and the Empire had no interest in going through extraordinary measures to heal the weak. She understood it intellectually, but it was difficult to accept. Her grandmother was the last real link to her father that she had left.

During her visit, she was careful to appear at her grandmother's bedside only in the presence of others, wishing to avoid another conversation concerning her husband and the Empire; however, on her final day there, she was called alone into the room. And the discussion that followed had opened her eyes, in many ways.

She had been defending the Empire's actions once again, when her grandmother let out a long sigh and reached out to touch her hand. "What about the children, Natrie? The children in the temple?"

"They… they were in on the plot…" Natrie faltered, a cold feeling snaking through her. The children. How could they all have been in on the plot? There were many who were far too young to have… what had happened to all of the children in the Temple? Surely….

Her grandmother's eyes were uncompromising. "Exactly. Now you see, Natrie, don't you? Don't just accept anything that is told to you. Question. Never stop questioning, even if just in your own mind."

"Grandmother…" Natrie blinked, glanced at the chronometer on the wall. She would have to leave soon, but she had to know. Were they all lies, then? Everything? The children… "Grandmother, what really happened? Do you know?"

"I don't know for certain, Natrie. If I did, I'd tell you. But mark my words, the Emperor is not the benevolent ruler you believe him to be."

She swallowed, a denial already forming on her lips. Her husband believed in him, followed him, trusted him. How evil could such a man be, that her husband worshipped him so?

But, the children….

"Keep that line in public, Natrie. Remember what you told me, last time? That's the face you show in public. Wear it like a mask – you were an actress in school, you can do it. Support the Empire on the surface. It's not safe for them to know your true feelings." Her grandmother closed her eyes, and Natrie was shocked at how translucent the lids appeared. "Even your husband."

"But-"

"I should say," her grandmother breathed, "especially your husband. His ambition…" She shook her head, unable to continue.

Natrie sucked in her breath, but she didn't have the heart to argue. Her father's mother was old and ill, and it was only good that Natrie humored her. She was weak, and didn't need to worry about Natrie. "Yes, grandmother." Natrie hoped that would be enough – she didn't want to lie outright to her grandmother, but she couldn't let the old woman know that she intended to speak to her husband immediately upon her return. How could she expect Natrie not to talk to her husband about this? He was a member of the Imperial military, maybe he had an answer, maybe he knew… yes. There had to be an explanation.

But what explanation could there be? They were children.

Even now, when she thought of it, a sick feeling rose in her throat.

"…must be very proud. A lieutenant commander, at his age!"

Natrie snapped her attention back to the present and quickly replayed Sera's words in her mind. She had been so lost in thought that the words of the young officer's wife had washed over her without notice. "Yes, yes I am. Very proud." She hoped that would do.

Apparently, it was an acceptable response. A genuine smile appeared on the woman's face, and for a moment, Natrie was envious. It would be so much simpler if she was still a believer in this sort of thing, if she could get her fulfillment by maneuvering and manipulating her husband's way to the top. In the beginning, Natrie had cared, very much, and worked the room as this woman did. She wondered if, after years more of marriage and playing the game, Sera would still feel the same? Or would she become as jaded as Natrie was now?

"And a fine man, he is. I've heard he quite dotes on you," the other woman said, leaning in as if sharing a confidence. Natrie smiled tightly, and thankfully Sera took the hint and moved on to other subjects. However, her words stuck in Natrie's mind and she pondered them.

Her husband doted on her; it was true, in a way. And she had once doted on him. That had changed, however – well, her side had changed. Love had become disillusionment, which then turned to indifference, which gradually became hate. She could even pinpoint the exact moment when the change began, when the peak that began that slippery slope was first breached. After the final conversation with her grandmother, she'd returned to their home, and tucked Mierie into bed, and then spoken to her husband about her concerns.

It hadn't gone well.

"But, the children –"

"I will speak no more of this. Take it from your mind."

"But-"

"That is final." His voice came out in a poisonous hiss and he moved closer, looming over her from his greater height. "Don't let me hear you speak of it, even a whisper, do you understand? Do you have any idea what word of this could do to my career, if my own wife-"

"Your career?" she shrieked, incredulous. "What does that matter, compared to-" She stopped suddenly, and took a step back, a lance of fear driving through her. She'd never thought her husband would strike her, but the look in his eye, the clenching of his fists, said otherwise. Her grandmother's advice returned to her, and she realized that the old woman, whom she had thought was so blind, had seen her husband with clearer eyes than anyone else. Swallowing, she forced the words out. "I'm sorry, beloved. You're right, of course. The Emperor stopped the war, and anything was worth that price. I will… I will put it from my mind."

He relaxed minutely, and nodded. "I don't wish to berate you, wife. But word of this…"

His voice was so formal! "I understand." She smiled, and it was the smile of her mask, the first time she'd ever worn that mask in private. It had been used many times before, in social events, but never when she was alone with him. Until that moment.

She remembered the awareness, as he embraced her with arms as unforgiving as durasteel, that she would be wearing the mask often in his presence from then on, and the thought had made her cringe inside. That, she now realized, had been the very moment that the change had begun. The seed was planted and the snaking weeds grew quickly, and their love was from that point on marred by reality and truth. She wished for an instant – as she often did - that she could have lived on in ignorance, that her grandmother had never brought the light to her eyes.

But who, then, would spread the truth?

"It's amazing, really, how well he's done, wouldn't you say?" Sera looked at her expectantly.

Natrie blinked and then nodded. She really needed to be more careful at these functions, but the others never seemed to notice if she was paying attention, so long as they had a captive audience. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Natrie paid attention to Sera for another couple of minutes, her guilt at completely missing the woman's earnest attempt at ingratiation driving her to listen closely. However, she couldn't maintain the façade for long, and soon pretended to see her husband waving to her. "I'm so sorry, but my husband-"

"Oh! Don't even mention it; I've taken up too much of your time already. Perhaps we could visit outside of these functions sometime?"

Natrie made a noncommittal noise and took the small datacard that was offered to her. Then, with a polite nod, she backed into the crowd, letting it swallow her. After a few minutes of circling the room and avoiding anyone who eyed her with interest, she was able to escape to the balcony area. It was empty, which pleased her, and she drew in a deep breath, enjoying the cool air in her nose and throat. One of the problems with these social events was her tendency to drift into memory and contemplation – too many things reminded her of her past and the slippery slope that had led her here, to this place, and there were too few things to distract her thoughts from that path.

Silently, she moved to the balcony's edge and stared out at the surrounding buildings. It was unlikely that any would venture out to the balcony until later in the evening, when the aurora would be visible over the neighboring buildings – there was far too much maneuvering to be done inside – but she still made certain to stick to the shadows. It wouldn't do if she was accosted out here, where there was no way to pretend her husband was waving her over so that she could escape another tedious chat. The sound of conversation was a steady hum in the background, and she noted that when the dozens of irritating voices were blended together, it was much more tolerable. Soothing, even.

The hum faded and other conversations came to her ears as she moved along the railing, away from the doorway. The railing was cool and smooth to the touch as she slid her hand along it, and finally, when she reached the farthest point, she stopped and leaned against the glassy stone, looking down at the balconies below. Most were empty, their occupants attending one function or another, but one was lit and she admired the elegant fixtures. Made of the same dark, shiny stone that formed the balcony railings, they put out a very soft light, and she considered whether she ought to purchase some for their own home – they were much better than the harsh lights that her husband had procured-

Then she overheard something, something that made her freeze.

"You should come. We can use more people, more supporters. Palpatine is strong."

Palpatine? In wonder, she shifted all of her attention to the overheard conversation. Few spoke the Emperor's true name anymore, and none spoke it without the honorific title prefacing it.

A deeper voice answered the first. "So we are meeting, then? It's real?"

"It's real. Not everyone believes the lies. Not everyone has forsaken the truth."

The voices sounded as if they were coming from the lit balcony, but she couldn't see anyone there. She leaned farther over the railing, her eyes searching the darkness. Finally, she was able to make out two shadows on the far end of the other balcony, outside of the circle of soft light spread by the fixtures she'd been admiring.

"But, what if we're found-"

"We won't be."

"How-"

"Don't worry. We have some people on the inside… but we need more for a successful rebellion."

Rebellion?

"On the inside? And you trust…" The man's voice stopped, and she squinted into the night, straining to see what was happening. One shadow appeared to show the other something – a datapad, perhaps? – and then the object was hidden once again beneath the shadow's cloak. The deep voice came again, no longer hesitant. "I'll be there."

"Of course you will." A glow from a smokestick lit the air, and she was doubly intrigued. Smokesticks were rare and expensive, these days, since the planet that produced the herbs was resisting Imperial rule. "You see through the lies."

"I do. It took some time, but I do now." The two men gave their farewells, then turned to go in different directions. As one moved into the artificial light from the balcony fixtures, he turned around suddenly, before she could move away from the railing. She wasn't certain if he would be able to see her, standing as she was in the shadows, but it seemed as if their eyes locked for a split second before his gaze shifted away. He searched the other balconies for a moment then, apparently satisfied, tossed the smokestick to the floor. He ground it under his heel and then, with one last glance around, continued on his way.

She backed away from the railing, hearing again and again the final words from the two men. It seemed as if they had read her mind, had known exactly what she had been thinking about before they appeared. How could such a coincidence occur? Then again, was it really a coincidence? It was something that remained on her mind day and night, forcing her to don that mask in her husband's presence to protect against letting him know her true thoughts. To keep herself from revealing that she knew the lies for what they were.

"I do," she whispered. "It took some time, but I do now."