A/N: Many thanks to my beta reader, Buttercup!

I hope everyone enjoys the chapter, and as always, thanks to everyone for the feedback! It's always appreciated :).

The Dutiful Wife

WendyNat

Chapter Three
------------------
A few days later, Natrie found herself in her daughter's bedroom, clearing up in preparation for Vrindo's arrival that day. With a sigh, she bent down to pick up another of Mierie's socks from the floor. The girl just would not put her clothes in the laundry chute where they belonged. After a day of classes, Mierie's room often looked a disaster, clothes and datapads and other items strewn across the room. Normally Natrie picked up in the evening – or forced Mierie to - but she'd been distracted the previous night by conversation with her husband.

"It's like she walks into her room and explodes," Natrie muttered as she bent down to pick up a green cloak that had somehow found its way under the desk. Normally she would be more frustrated by the terrible state of the room, but this time it was a welcome distraction from her thoughts.

What had she been thinking, inviting him to come to their home for the interview? For that matter, what had she been thinking, inviting him to interview her at all?

Curiosity about the Rebellion, of course, was the main reason; however, it certainly wasn't a subject that would come up in casual conversation. He'd be the one asking questions, not her. Even so, just being in the same room as a man who also saw the truth would be a welcome relief. One who wasn't so blinded by his ambition that he ignored the deaths of children, brushed it aside as if it was nothing.

Her husband's voice floated from the door and, as always, she froze when she saw the long shadow fall across the opposite wall. "Remember, keep things light, but watch how much you say. He might-"

"Darling, aren't you late for duty?" Natrie clenched her teeth into a semblance of a smile and her husband sighed, shaking his head.

"I'm never late, Natrie. You know that." He frowned slightly. "Are you sure you can handle-"

"Yes. I can. And even if I couldn't, you've been coaching me on what to say for three days now." Her voice had more bite than she'd intended, and her husband blinked.

"Now, Natrie-"

"It's fine, darling. I'm just a little on edge." I'd be much better if you'd just leave. "Why don't you go on ahead to your duty station? I'll be fine; I know what to say, and I can handle any twisty questions he throws out. I won't embarrass you, don't worry."

Her husband's expression softened and she counted in her head, knowing the normal routine. Like an automaton, he did as programmed. It had taken her years to realize that his response never varied, years until she simply didn't care, and that was when she noticed the unwavering pattern of his responses; no longer clouded by emotion and wanting, she saw it clearly. His anger was the only thing that was unpredictable, and so she tried to avoid angering him.

One, two, three… yes. On cue, he moved to her - three short steps, a heavy exhalation of regret for his words, arms sliding around her shoulders, pulling her close. Her cheek pressed against the bars of rank on his coat and, as expected, she wrapped her own arms around him, recalling a time - long ago - when she had loved him. "I know you won't embarrass me, Natrie. I trust you completely."

---

After her husband left, she made her way through the house, viewing each room objectively to try to decide how it would look through an outsider's eyes. They didn't often have guests over; she'd avoided socializing with the other wives outside of those dreadful functions, and even when they did have guests over, she'd never worried overmuch how the house had looked. She'd never before been so worried about making a good impression.

A smokestick glowed in her mind, and a voice – Vrindo Larzin's voice – spoke of a Rebellion. Over and again, the memory played, giving her no rest.

Natrie adjusted the table linens once more, and then cursed under her breath. As if Vrindo would care about how straight the table linens were! But her husband had insisted that everything be perfect, that everything be just so, and if Vrindo captured any holovids of their home she knew it needed to follow her husband's directions.

She set some Endorian bark tea to brew on the warming pad and, after a moment's hesitation, pulled out one container of spiced wine and placed it in the chiller. Some men weren't partial to tea, and if it wasn't used that afternoon she could always serve it at dinner that evening.

The door tone went off just as she was positioning the tea and cups on the low table in the sitting area. Taking a deep breath, she walked to the door and pressed the panel. It slid open to reveal the man that had haunted her memory for months.

"Mr. Larzin, welcome." Behind him, she could see a dark blue speeder on the landing pad.

"Vrindo, please, Madam-"

"Natrie," she interrupted.

His eyes crinkled, a teasing expression, and he gave her a short bow. "Madam Natrie."

"You know that's not what I meant!" Natrie shook her head, but his antics had lessened her nervousness and she didn't have to force the wide smile that grew on her face. "Come in, Vrindo."

She led the way to the sitting area, settling in her favorite chair while he took the couch. The tea was served, and then they both sat back, staring at each other. To her surprise, he didn't speak. She felt like an insect under a close-viewer, one being studied by a cool-headed researcher.

"So." Natrie shifted, more uncomfortable than she thought she'd be now that they were seated. Weren't reporters supposed to calm their subjects down, not stare at them until they squirmed?

"So." Vrindo took a sip of the hot bark tea and nodded, lifting the cup slightly in appreciation. "A good blend."

"Thank you."

He leaned forward and placed the cup on the table before him. "Now. Let's get down to business."

"All right."

"Tell me about yourself." Sitting back, he pulled out a datapad and tapped at it. "I always like to have some background information, to start off with. It sets the stage, so to speak, for the program."

She frowned, not sure how to respond. He'd recited a bit of her background the last time they met, so she knew he had some knowledge already. "Well, why don't you tell me what you have so far. Then I can maybe fill in any gaps that your research didn't cover?"

He raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by her request. Perhaps it wasn't a usual thing for an interviewee to say? She had no idea; this was all quite beyond her realm of experience.

"Very well. You're right, I did do some research. You are, of course, the wife of a Lieutenant Commander in the Imperial Navy, a man who has risen steadily in the ranks over the past years after starting out as a wide-eyed ensign shortly after the birth of the Empire."

He looked up long enough to see her nod, then his eyes returned to the datapad. "You married him shortly after he completed officer's training, and by all accounts it was a welcome event. Your marriage was supported by your family despite the fact that you were young according to the standards of your home planet."

"Not by all the family," she muttered, thinking of her grandmother. His eyes shot up from the datapad.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Go on."

Vrindo stared at her for a moment, then nodded and continued, "Your family is well-respected, your mother a native of Gabris Prime and your father from Coruscant. You were born thirty-one standard years ago and spent the first fifteen years of your life on Gabris Prime. After the death of your father in the Clone Wars, most of your family left Gabris Prime to avoid the increasing instability in the outlying regions. As far as family, that's about it." He looked at the datapad. "Oh, no, wait. There's more. Let's not forget that two of your father's brothers were Jedi Knights."

She froze. "Um…"

"But I think we'll leave that part out, shall we?" He looked up, his expression almost mocking.

Throat dry, she nodded. "Yes. I think so."

"You had a daughter almost two years after your marriage-"

"I found out I was pregnant on our first anniversary."

He raised an eyebrow and made a notation on the datapad, then continued, "Everyone was, of course, ecstatic." This time, she schooled her expression to one of casual interest. "Your daughter seems to be very well-adjusted and has received highest marks from most of her tutors and class leaders. Her marks are, in fact, similar to the level yours were in school."

"You've done a lot of homework."

"This is the homework I enjoy - finding the story behind the person." He smiled at her, a genuine smile, and she couldn't help but do the same – the smile, the real smile, transformed an already-handsome face into something quite beyond description. "I wasn't the best at doing my homework in school – that's probably why my marks were nowhere close to either of yours."

She laughed. "Mierie is much better about it than I was. Of course, she has her father standing over her shoulder, making certain she completes everything." Natrie's own father had encouraged her to relax and play more, claiming that too much study was bad for a child.

"His marks weren't as high as yours."

Her smile dimmed. It wasn't something her husband liked to be reminded of, and she hoped Vrindo didn't put anything about that in the program. She looked at him. "You've certainly put a lot of work into this. It must have taken you some effort to gather all this before we met today."

"It's my job."

"Well, you're good at it."

He acknowledged the compliment with a nod, then said, "And that's about all I have. In short, everything's perfect and happy and you're all good Imperial citizens." Again, that mocking smile took over his face.

She took a sip of her tea, covering her expression with the cup. "That's… that's a concise summary." Her life, wrapped as a pretty package with a bow on top; but the container within the wrapping was empty.

Vrindo tapped the datapad on his palm and, tilting his head, he said, "Now, why don't you tell me something a little more 'real'?"

"What… what do you mean?"

He smirked. "Anything that would be of interest to the general public. Paint me a picture of your home life, here. Set the scene. Does he leave his socks around the apartment? Does he snore? Have a soft spot for Corellian candies? What do you argue about? Do you get sick of his job; does he get frustrated that you're sick of his job?"

She snorted, shaking her head. "Do you want the truth, or what the Admiral and the Emperor would want the public to hear?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On how much you like that pretty head that's attached to your shoulders."

Suddenly, she stood. "Would you like some wine?"

His right eyebrow quirked and, with a small smile, he nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

She went to retrieve the container of chilled wine, pouring it into a silver pitcher that they'd received as an anniversary gift from her mother a few years before. The methodical motions helped to calm her, and she began to wonder why she'd reacted that way. It had been the perfect opening to start veering the conversation towards the Rebellion. Fear and nervousness and the reality of it had hit her hard, and all at the same time. Taking a deep breath, she returned to the sitting area and poured two glasses of wine, setting the pitcher down on the table.

"Thank you." Vrindo took a sip of his wine, watching her over the rim of the glass. "We'll start with something a little easier, then. Any funny anecdotes while you were courting? Viewers love that type of thing."

In relief, she smiled. "Yes. Some." As she related some of the amusing – but innocuous – stories that her husband had mentioned, she began to relax. He asked question after question, and she finally did answer some of the earlier questions.

"We rarely fight. It's true – there've only been a few occasions…" Her voice trailed off and she took a long swallow of wine before continuing, "Not often. I don't bother."

"You don't bother?"

"Not anymore. I tried, once or twice, but he doesn't want to hear-" She stopped suddenly, remembering that there was a reason she didn't drink often. Peering into her empty glass, she sighed. "He doesn't leave his socks about, either. That's Mierie. He's very, very, very meticulous."

Vrindo drained his own glass and then said, "I can see that about him."

He reached for the pitcher, fingers brushing it before she took it from him. "No, no. You're the guest; let me serve." He sat back with a small shrug, and she smiled as she lifted the pitcher, noting that he had left fingerprints in the cool condensation.

"There's just one more question, but this might be a long one."

"Go ahead."

"Why did you never tell your husband what you overheard on the balcony that night?"

The pitcher slipped from numb fingers, liquid splashing over the table and streaming over the edge to the floor. It slowed to a mere trickle as she stood and stared at the man, and each drip of the sparkling liquid seemed to mirror the beating of her heart.

"What?" her voice was just a breath. He rose, circling the table to stand in front of her. As they stood there, staring at each other, the pitcher rolled off the table and fell with a loud clatter, metal against marble.

"I know it was you, Natrie. A silver dress is distinctive enough, don't you think? And Captain Decker is a close friend of mine, as well as a neighbor."

"I don't… I don't know what you're talking about."

"After seeing you standing there, and having a good idea of what you overheard, I went over to Decker's place and slipped in. It didn't take long to find out who the woman in the silver was."

She swallowed, unsure how to respond. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears.

"You had a lot to drink that night – an innocent discussion was twisted by the poison of alcohol in your mind." Vrindo's eyes narrowed. "I had the excuse ready, and who would they believe, after all? You?" He paused just long enough for her to fidget under his gaze. "But, imagine my surprise when my excuse was never needed. When the good wife of an Imperial officer - a Lieutenant Commander - didn't even breathe a word of it to her husband."

"How do you know I didn't tell him? Maybe I did, and he just-"

"He never told his commanding officer, and the good Lieutenant Commander wouldn't hesitate to do that." Vrindo's right eyebrow quirked. "Would he?"

She opened her mouth to protest, but then let out a breath. What was the point? "You know him well."

"Well enough." He took another step towards her, and she took another half-step back. "And then, of course, I drew the logical conclusion."

"Logical?"

"A tiny bit of research was all I needed. The logical conclusion was that you, the silver-clad lady on the balcony, were secretly a supporter of the Rebellion. Of the cause."

She just stared at him.

"Was it your father's influence? Both of his brothers were Jedi Knights, and most families were proud to have such men and women to point to and claim, even if they weren't allowed contact."

"Y- yes. My father, he always spoke so highly of them. And then my… my grandmother…"

"Your father's mother?"

"Yes." Natrie shook her head. "After the Emperor came to power, she wanted… but she was old, and ill, and there wasn't anything she could do-"

"There are things you could do, Natrie. Join us."

She watched him, his intensity evident in every movement and word and blink. Join us. This couldn't be real. It couldn't. While she longed to say yes, to not hesitate for a second, the logistics of the issue loomed large in her mind. Mierie, her husband…. Joining the Rebellion had been a beautiful daydream, but reality was cold and hard, and did not allow for flights of fancy. "I… I don't think-"

"You must see what's happening to the Galaxy, under his rule. You're beautiful, but that's not all there is to you – you're strong, you have a mind of your own, and I know you can see the truth."

She looked at him, shock playing at the edges of her awareness, though her face showed none of it. Or so she hoped. "Do you often flatter and flirt with women to try to convince them to join your Rebellion?"'

"Would it work? I could flatter you more."

A laugh burst from her before she could stifle it, and with a chuckle, he continued, "Natrie, I'll do anything to help bring the Emperor down, and if flattering a woman who deserves to be flattered is part of that, then I'll gladly do it. I do what I can to spread the truth."

"So do I. I do what I can to spread the truth – I've… I tell Mierie of the Jedi, of the past." She sighed, looking at the HoloNet projector in the corner. "Of the different versions of the truth. She knows."

"That could be dangerous."

When she shifted her gaze to him, she saw only sincere concern. Smiling, she shook her head. "No, I've told her to take care never to speak of it to anyone else."

He nodded slowly. "Help us, Natrie. Help us fight."

She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted… but she had someone else to think about. Someone else to protect. "I… I can't. Not in the way you mean. I mean, I do fight. In my own way. I'm doing what I can to spread the truth."

"Spread the truth? By telling one little girl about what you know, and begging her not to speak of it to another soul?" He stared at her incredulously.

Natrie bit her lip and looked down, wondering how he'd twisted her around with so little effort. She should have known better than to engage in debate with a journalist.

One finger lifted her chin, then he jerked back, almost as if the touch had burned, but his expression cleared so quickly that she wondered if she had imagined it. His eyes were intense on hers when he said, "Think about it."

"It wouldn't be safe. I have to protect my daughter." She was torn, and she knew he saw that far too clearly.

"She'll be protected." This time, his voice was soft, understanding. She looked up at him and saw him staring at her, the oddest expression on his face. Then he seemed to recognize her scrutiny and schooled his features to a more neutral appearance. "Well? Will you think on it?"

She took a deep breath and nodded.

He reached out and took one of her hands in his, then bowed over it in a gallant gesture, keeping his eyes on hers through the entire movement. "Thank you."

Unable to speak, she just nodded again, and watched dumbly as he picked up his datapad and let himself out of her home.

---

That evening, Natrie sat in front of her small vanity, combing her hair out and half-listening to the final HoloNet news broadcast of the day. Her husband was, of course, stationed in front of the projector, drinking in everything, hoping for something that could give him an edge over his competitors. His coworkers. His comrades. A topic of conversation with which to impress a superior. Anything.

She winced as she encountered a snarl and set to work untangling it. Dozens of dark brown hairs clung to the comb and she sighed, staring at them. Perhaps she should just cut it all off… but then it'd be even more trouble at those functions, thinking of ways to dress it up. Long was easy, she could put it up or down or twist it into a coil-

Suddenly, the sound of the HoloNet broadcast broke through her ruminations. She spun in her chair, staring at the projector as the broadcaster continued, "…former wife of Commander Neroon, was found today by troopers as she attempted to find illegal passage from the Imperial Center. Unfortunately, the incident ended in tragedy when Suni Neroon and her companion resisted arrest, attacking three of the troopers, and forcing them to fire in self-defense."

The comb dropped from her hand. "That's not possible! That shrinking leaf of a woman would never attack a troop-"

"It's what the official report is, Natrie. It's what happened." Her husband shook his head, and she knew he was sighing inwardly over the wayward wife. Suni Neroon had left her husband, sneaking out in the dead of night after he found that she was sleeping with another man. It was quite a scandal, and Natrie had openly disparaged the young woman while secretly wishing her luck and strength when the subject came up.

"You're always so sure that whatever that official report says is truth," she snapped, picking up the comb from the floor with a shaking hand. When she finally looked up, she saw her husband staring at her quizzically.

"Of course it's the truth." He stood and walked across the room, stopping in front of where she sat and putting a hand on her shoulder. "The evidence is all there. Suni left her husband, and he's a good officer, a good man. I know him. If she was capable of leaving him for some other man, then I'd say she's capable of anything."

Her mind froze, unable to process his words completely. It was unthinkable. Capable of leaving a stifling, cold, unpleasant man – her husband wasn't the only one who knew Commander Neroon – somehow meant she was capable of attacking three fully-armed and armored troopers? It was a lie. A lie to cover a murder. She shook her head, and her husband squeezed her shoulder again.

"Ah, Natrie. You're too soft-hearted, never wanting to see the bad in anyone." She almost snorted, but was able to change it to a strange sobbing sound at the last moment. As expected, his other hand slid up to the opposite shoulder. "It's a lovely trait, but I'm afraid it's not very realistic."

She took a deep breath and, firmly replacing that mask over her features, lifted her eyes to meet his in the mirror. The look of condescension made her anger flare, but her mask was on, and she had always been a good actress. Nodding, she summoned a small smile. "You're right, beloved."

Bending to kiss her cheek, he murmured, "Of course I am."

---

Two days later, Vrindo returned. As soon as the door slid shut behind him, he looked at her and began, "Have you thought-"

"Perhaps we should get business out of the way first?"

He frowned for a moment, then his brow cleared. "Fine."

She led the way to the sitting area, trying to gather her courage. "Do you even know how you're going to open the program-"

He'd already pulled out a datapad and began to speak, not letting her finish. "Natrie, wife of a Lieutenant Commander, is a woman like many of you. She's unaccountably shy in large settings and much prefers a quiet evening at home with the family, she supports her husband in his career endeavors, and has a daughter that loves sweetcakes – or is that you?"

"How did you know that?"

"I retrieved your merchant records. Now," he said, tossing the datapad to the couch and sitting down, elbows propped on his knees. "Have you given any thought to what we discussed last time?"

"Yes. And… I- I can't. I have to protect my daughter."

"You've got to do better than that, Natrie. If you really wanted to protect her, you'd expound the virtues of the Emperor, not fill her head with the 'lies' of the Jedi. With talk like that of a Rebel Alliance member."

"But, the truth-"

"So it does matter to you, then?"

She swallowed. "Of course it does. The children…"

"The children?"

"The Jedi Temple, there were children, so many. How could they have been involved in any plot?"

"And he murdered them, the same as if he'd pulled the blaster trigger himself. Palpatine murdered them."

"Yes."

"Then why don't you fight? Help us!"

She shook her head and stood, walking back and forth as she spoke. "What help could I be to you? I'm the wife of an Imperial officer, my hands are tied behind my back – I can't even order the groceries I want without him hovering over and directing my every move!"

He also stood and stepped in front of her, stilling her restless pacing. "What help could you be, as the wife of an Imperial officer? Come on, Natrie. We aren't looking to you to hold a blaster pistol. We need information. Intelligence. And even the most tight-lipped man will spill secrets on a pillow warm from-"

"That's quite enough." She turned, her cheeks heated.

"Too harsh? Very well, then. You know what I mean. You're an intelligent woman, whether you pretend otherwise or not."

"Intelligent?" She snorted, a sound her mother would admonish her for, if she ever heard it. Not ladylike. "If I was intelligent, I wouldn't be in this mess. I wouldn't be stuck in a marriage with an inhuma-" She stopped and swallowed, wondering what it was about Vrindo that made her say too much. Whatever it was, it was certainly a boon for a reporter. "I wasn't smart enough, before all of this, to know…."

"You're smart enough now." He reached out and touched her cheek and, to her surprise, she didn't flinch. Instead, she leaned into it, strength and warmth… it was the shock of her response that made her leap back. He misinterpreted it, however. "My apologies."

"It's all right." They stared at each other, and she recalled how he'd answered her the last time, when she asked him if he would flatter and flirt to help the cause. Was this just another extension of that? The very thought was a chastisement - what was wrong with her? Leaning into someone else's touch, when he'd said straight out he'd do whatever it took to convince her to help.

"Should they be allowed to do such deeds, and suffer none for it? Should they be free to continue to do such deeds to any who oppose?"

She looked down, uncomfortable at the directness of his gaze. "Did you hear what happened to Suni Neroon?" She heard his heavy sigh and looked up at him. "I can't risk it. Mierie is too young to be without a mother."

"Suni left her husband." He couldn't meet her eyes, however. "It's not the same-"

"You think spying on my husband would be seen as better by the Imperial Navy than sleeping with another man under his nose?" She laughed, a dry sound. "They'd whore me out themselves before they'd suffer a spy in their midst."

He had no answer; it was the truth, and they both knew it.

---

A week later, she attended another function, this time at a General's home. It was extravagant, as expected, with gemstones scattered on the serving trays as decorations. She wondered if anyone had ever dared to snag one or two of the sparkling jewels, but it seemed that the servers kept a close eye on their trays as they moved through the room.

She spoke with Sera briefly, much of the conversation centering on a subject that Natrie was actually interested in – Suni Neroon. Sera was full of shock and amazement that any woman would leave her husband, particularly an officer of such rank, and Natrie had to bite her tongue physically to avoid saying something out of character. It was a relief when Trienne swept up and brushed Sera away with a well-placed suggestion of exotic sweets in the far corner.

The other woman wore a brilliant purple, this time. It was a color that very few women could carry, but Trienne did it with panache. She exuded confidence and power, though Natrie imagined she would still give off the same air even in a ratty evening robe. As they spoke of the gowns and the forbidden subject of Suni Neroon, Trienne brought up Mierie.

"Soon, she'll be old enough to attend these functions, don't you think?"

Natrie blinked. "Oh. I didn't think about that. She still seems young to me, for something like this."

"Nonsense! Where better to scope out-" Trienne stopped, waving in a grand gesture to someone near the front entrance. Natrie craned her neck to see who it was, and dropped back to her heels when she saw Vrindo's familiar figure headed their way. "Your friend Vrindo. He had a lot of good things to say about you. You know, he might make you the focus of the program."

"Oh, my."

"Anyway, as I was saying, Mierie is just a few years from that age, really."

Vrindo came up at just that moment and, with a wicked grin, he bowed low over Trienne's hand. "You waved, and I came."

"Good boy, good boy. You know, if I was single and a couple of decades younger, I'd put a claim mark on you." Trienne winked at Natrie. "An already-trained man, you can't just pluck those out of a gunga fruit tree, can you?"

"No, indeed," she replied, looking at Vrindo with a grin.

"Ah, but he's a permanent bachelor. You won't believe the women he's turned down that I've hand-picked for him."

"Madam Trienne, I'd take you up on one or two of them, if they were at all my type." Vrindo raised an eyebrow and looked over at Natrie. "She does like her little jokes, Trienne does. So far, I've avoided her evil schemes."

"Evil schemes?" Natrie laughed.

"Let's see… she's tried to tempt me with a woman three decades my senior-"

"You can't ignore the value of experience, young man!" Trienne tried to look offended, but her smirk was too evident.

"Another one barely out of the womb-"

"She was old enough according to her planet's guidelines."

Natrie giggled. "Oh, my."

"And another that was quite lovely but as empty-headed as a half-witted Gungan."

Trienne shook her head. "I really thought I'd have you on that one, Vrindo. How did you know?"

"My brother had dated her once." Vrindo winked at her. "You should work your wiles on him – he's much more gullible."

"And therefore no fun. What's the challenge?" Trienne shook her head. "Now, before you came up and took us off-topic, I was just reminding Natrie that her own young one will be ready for the market soon."

Natrie shook her head. "Oh, no. Not soon-"

"Just a few years. How old were you when you married?"

"Too young," Natrie muttered, taking a drink from the tray of a passing server.

Trienne's eyes crinkled as she chuckled. "We're all too young when we marry, my dear. If only we could go into life as wise as we are when come out of it, we'd all be better off."

Natrie made a non-committal noise and took a sip of her drink, wincing as she realized it was that horrible sweet concoction that so many of the women preferred.

Trienne leaned towards Vrindo. "Now, there are plenty of young men here that will be ones to keep an eye on. Young officers that will be just coming into their own when young Mierie is ready to settle into her place in life."

Vrindo nodded, studying the crowd. "Plenty of upstanding young officers here, good loyal Imperial men." He shot a glance at Natrie. "There's no greater blessing than for a daughter to walk in her mother's footsteps, is there?"

Her expression froze, his words hitting her hard, but luckily Trienne didn't notice. With a wink at Vrindo, Trienne said, "Oh, indeed. I think a good, ambitious man, one who knows himself, would suit her well – if she's anything like you."

Natrie forced a smile to her face. "Of course." An image of Mierie came unbidden to her mind, and she cringed inside as she watched her beautiful daughter's light dim under the life Natrie led.

"Oh, dear. There's the General's wife. I'd better at least say hello to her, or I'll not hear the end of it. At least she's not quite so insufferable as the rest of these sycophants." Trienne wagged a finger under Vrindo's nose. "Now, no repeating that, casually or on the HoloNet, do you understand?"

"Perfectly, Madam." He bowed elegantly and Trienne threw her head back, laughing. With a wave, she slipped away, promising to catch up with Natrie shortly.

Mierie. What would her daughter do, when she reached majority? What could she do? And, as Trienne had pointed out, the time was rapidly approaching. The other evening, when her husband had worked a night shift to oversee some new junior officers, she and Mierie had sat up late watching old HoloNet recordings that Natrie's grandmother had left her. Incontrovertible evidence of Mierie's approaching womanhood had made itself known when she sighed – more than once - over the handsome Jedi. Mierie had giggled when Natrie told her that, when she was Mierie's age, she'd had a terrible crush on General Kenobi. While most of the girls threw their hearts at Anakin Skywalker's feet, the teenaged Natrie had wanted to be different, not one of the crowd.

And now, she was in the middle of a crowd, and there was no escape.

She sucked in a breath, finding that her lungs seemed reluctant to expand and contract the way they should; the room was close, too close, and the people around her began to dim and fade into each other, becoming one huge entity instead of the dozens of smaller beings that they truly were. Breathing deeply, she fought her way through the crowd to the balcony area, and the touch of cool air on her skin helped to bring her equilibrium back.

There's no greater blessing than for a daughter to walk in her mother's footsteps, is there? No. Not Mierie. Natrie wouldn't allow it; she couldn't condemn her daughter to a life with no hope, with no choice, when she had the means to prevent it. She had to at least try.

Someone stepped out onto the balcony, slowly approaching her position near the railing. She didn't turn; she knew who it was, and she also knew she had to get the words out before the nerve left her. When he was close enough, she whispered, "I'll do it."

He moved beside her - close enough to speak without being overheard but not close enough to raise suspicions. "Good."

She looked over at him, watching as he plucked a smokestick from a small pocketbox. Strong, elegant fingers… a scar crossed one knuckle and she wondered how he'd come by it. An accident, perhaps? Or something more sinister? It was a dangerous game that he played, and now she'd agreed to play the same game.

One of her father's favorite sayings came to her, then. The line between courage and idiocy is very fine.

Beside her, Vrindo lit a smokestick and inhaled deeply, blowing out the fragrant smoke in a thin stream before meeting her eyes once more. She forgot her fears as a spark flitted through her stomach, and she wondered how it was that this man's gaze could do this to her, could make her feel both feminine and strong, while her husband's gaze seemed to minimize all that she was.

"How will I contact you? I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to do…"

"I'll handle it. Don't worry." They stared at each other, a strange tension mounting as she struggled to maintain a casual expression. The silence built until she experienced an overwhelming need to fill it with something, anything, but just before she could speak, he broke eye contact with a quick shake of his head. Stepping back, he tossed the smokestick to the balcony floor and ground it out with his boot, looking out over the railing of the balcony to the city beyond.

"I'll handle everything." Jaw clenched, he slid through the door into the main room, and was quickly swallowed by the crowd.