Garrus ran his fingers over the insignia on his chest, double-checking its position. The fabric of his black uniform shimmered, metallic threads catching the glow from the dressing room lights. He adjusted the last stripe, making sure it was perfectly aligned, then meticulously straightened the uniform. With all the layers of the ceremonial attire, he felt naked without his armor. It was an odd sensation, living without it for the first time in years, missing the familiar comfort he had grown accustomed to. He glanced in the mirror for one last check, and saw a decorated turian officer who had spent a decade considering humans his enemies, killing them by hundreds, and was now to sit at the dinner table with them, sharing drinks and conversation—all in the name of diplomacy. It felt surreal, like a dream he couldn't wake up from.
Garrus took a deep breath. He knew that tonight's event would be challenging for many reasons. The Primarch's instructions to be vigilant and suspect foul play gnawed on him. Observe and analyze. Sounded easy enough. Yet Garrus found himself hoping more and more that his father was wrong about Shepard. He liked the human admiral. He found him honest—a rare quality in Shepard's kind. Was Garrus wrong? He was not as savvy in political intrigue and subterfuge as was the Primarch of Palaven. So, if his superior told him to be on guard, he was going to do exactly that and see what comes out of that strange, unscripted social event.
But if he was completely honest with himself, it wasn't the duplicitous games he had to play that evening that truly agitated him. It was her. Tonight wouldn't be just a moment of two of them together stealing glances and simmering with unspoken words, but a whole evening of informal socialization. Could he pull it off? Spending hours in one room with Katie was a double-edged sword—he needed her like air, yet every moment near her would bring agony. But he accepted it. The joy of her presence, the pain that followed—both intertwined, the pull of her undeniable, woven into the very core of his being.
With a sigh, Garrus strode out of his apartment, heading toward the skycar park.
The turian delegation arrived at the scheduled time, punctual to a fault. The Primarch, accompanied by the three Hierarchy officials and his son, was led into the residence by one of the C-Sec officers the Council had appointed to guard the Alliance delegates. Castis exchanged polite greetings with the human staff, who were stationed in the hallway. The nonessential personnel weren't allowed inside for the private event. The attaches and personal assistants remained behind. Inner circle members only.
The doors to the residence swung open, revealing Shepard standing in the doorway to greet his guests personally. He was clad in the traditional Alliance uniform, exuding confidence and authority. He welcomed the Primarch with a firm handshake, then did the same with the rest of the turian diplomats, leading them into the spacious living area. His officers, already seated, rose to their feet to greet the guests with curt nods of acknowledgment. Their gestures, however, seemed more awkward and reserved compared to Admiral Shepard's welcoming demeanor, as if they were unsure of how to properly interact. Needless to say, the turians themselves appeared equally wary, their expressions giving little away in terms of emotion or disposition.
This will be a long night, Garrus thought.
He searched the room, looking for the one person he wanted to see. She wasn't there. Her faint scent lingered as if taunting him. His heart sank as he realized she might not join them.
Alenko was also present, of course. Garrus shot a look in the human's direction. Their eyes met briefly, harboring a sense of mutual animosity. Both struggled to maintain composure.
"Would you care for a drink?" Shepard asked. The turians remained silent, as they awaited the Primarch's decision to follow his lead. Before Castis could answer, the admiral added with a sly wink, "I managed to acquire some of the finest turian brandy that can be found on the Citadel."
The Primarch smiled. "Now that's too tempting, Admiral. And you know it."
Shepard returned the smile with a knowing look and gestured for everyone to take seat in the living room chairs. Caterers brought over glasses and bottles.
"A rare treat indeed," the Primarch mused, swirling his glass and bringing the amber liquid up to his nose. The aroma was rich and inviting, reminiscent of the finest blends he had tasted back on Palaven. "Where did you find it, Admiral?"
Shepard smirked. "I have my sources. Let's just say they know a good bottle when they see one."
And just like that, the ice was finally broken. Garrus watched the two leaders continue to engage in their amicable conversation, sipping on their drinks. An unusual sight.
"Will your daughter be joining us?" the Primarch inquired.
"Eventually," the admiral sighed. "She's been getting ready for hours now."
Castis nodded with understanding. He had a daughter of his own. "Female customs indeed transcend species," he remarked thoughtfully.
The males in the living room laughed in agreement, and the conversation flowed further as more people now ventured to take part in it. They drank their alcohol and discussed trivial subjects, seemingly relaxed by the politics-free atmosphere. At some point, Shepard excused himself to check on the catering team, who were making final preparations in the dining hall. As he left, the turians and humans continued with their conversation.
Suddenly, Garrus felt the air fill with a sweet and alluring scent, so intoxicating that it caused a flutter in his chest. Katie. His eyes darted to the direction of its source—the stairs leading to the second floor right in front of their seating area.
He saw her descending with fluid grace. The people in the room paused, turning their attention to her and rising to their feet, as the etiquette of both species demanded.
Katie was truly a sight to behold. She wore a long-sleeved, floor-skimming black dress that enveloped her body like water, shimmering and sliding down her silhouette. It was draped gracefully on the top, revealing her delicate neck and shoulders. Her hair was lifted up, styled and held together with intricate pins that seemed to allow random locks to escape, framing her face and falling softly on her shoulders.By the Spirits!Her neckline… It was completely exposed, the smooth skin just begging to be grazed, marked, and claimed.
The turians instinctively registered her presence with soft vibrations—a basic biological response that his companions easily dismissed. But for Garrus, the task was next to impossible. She held him captive, leaving him struggling to suppress the rumbling thunder in his chest.
Katie's eyes scanned the people in the living space briefly as she was making her way down. She faltered when she saw him. Her pupils dilated slightly as she locked eyes with him. The look Garrus knew so well. A mixture of her affection for him and the fear it invoked.
"Kathreen," Alenko's voice broke their eye contact. The human walked past him and made his way towards Katie.
When she descended the final steps, he took her hand in his and pressed it to his mouth in a kiss. "You look stunning."
Garrus couldn't stand it. The way the male's eyes lingered on her, the way he touched her, so familiar, so intimate. But the worst part of it all was the look she gave in response. It was maddening, how she smiled at him, warm and inviting. Was she his? Garrus clenched his fists at the surge of jealousy and possessiveness.
The Primarch took a step forward, his expression stern as he shot his son a disapproving glance—the same one Castis always gave him when his subharmonics became unruly and inappropriate. He moved closer to the stairs to extend his greetings to the admiral's daughter.
"Miss Shepard. It is a pleasure to see you once again."
She offered him a warm smile.
"Primarch Vakarian, welcome. We are happy to have you here," she replied, returning his gesture. "I apologize for keeping you all waiting."
Castis waved away her concerns. "It's a universal truth that waiting for a female is always worthwhile, regardless of species."
His words made Katie blush momentarily, but she didn't let the embarrassment get the better of her. Instead, she shot back with another smile. "And it seems equally universal for men to fluster said female with flattery and intense stares when she finally appears."
The Primarch's mandibles flared in surprise at her comeback, before he broke into hearty laughter. "Well, there's no denying that you've mastered the art of making others fluster, Miss Shepard."
"Ah, Kathreen. Finally," came the admiral's voice as he returned into the living area. "It took you forever."
She smirked. "Like I wanted to listen to those tedious conversations of yours. I'm here for the food."
"Well, I'm please to inform you it's ready."
Garrus couldn't take his eyes of Katie. He liked this unexpected side of her—poised, diplomatic, confident enough to hold her own in the presence of the Primarch of Palaven.
As they all followed Shepard into the dining area, Katie was making small talk with other humans. Garrus tried not to stare, to be careful, but she was impossible to resist. And as he looked her way, he knew he had to do whatever it takes to find out if what he saw in her eyes was true.
Dinner was a success. The finest dextro and levo dishes the Citadel had to offer were served in rapid succession, each course more delicious than the last. The turians praised their host for his efforts.
Admiral Shepard and Primarch Vakarian were seated opposite each other at the far ends of the dinner table, with their respective delegates on both sides—all in accordance with the turian protocol for such occasions.
Katie's heart sank as she realized her place at the table was right next to Major Vakarian. She tried to maintain her composure as she settled into her chair, doing her best to ignore the racing of her heart. Across the table, Kaidan Alenko was seated next to the Admiral Oraka who turned out to be quite a chatty turian as the evening wore on.
Katie was flustered by the intimate proximity of Garrus beside her; at the same time, she was trapped under Alenko's constant gaze, causing her to squirm in her chair. This was a nightmare.
She forced herself to refocus on the evening's purpose, turning her attention to the turian delegates with as much charm as she could muster. Her father had worked so hard to make this dinner happen—she wouldn't let him down.
She saw the admiral raise his glass in the first toast. "To our turian counterparts! Here in this small room, behind closed doors, away from the prying eyes of those who wish to take credit for our success, let this be a true start to our peace talks."
The Primarch nodded ever so slightly at his words. Though his turian expression remained unreadable, his eyes held a glint of approval. There was a palpable sense of unity in the air, a stark contrast to the awkwardness from just an hour ago, when the newly arrived guests did not yet understand where they were standing.
Castis's voice resonated across the table as he stood up from his seat. It was customary in turian tradition to raise a glass for the hosting party right after the initial address of the host. "Thank you, Admiral Shepard, for holding this dinner at the strangest of times," he said, his tone filled with a hint of humor. "I'm raising this glass not just to our human counterparts but to a chance for a brighter future for both our people," he continued. "A future that can only be achieved through true dedication, as demonstrated by our host today!"
Everyone at the table raised their glasses in agreement, and Katie smiled at the sight.
She reached for her own glass, but just as she was about to take a sip, a turian hand suddenly stopped her with an unexpected force. She gasped loudly, her eyes widening in surprise. Garrus's action startled her, and she instinctively jerked her hand away, the glass clinking against her plate. Alenko tensed immediately, his military reflexes kicking in. He jumped from his chair at the turian's seemingly threatening move. The room fell silent as all eyes were fixed on the exchange.
Katie looked at Garrus, whose expression remained calm. "This is not your glass, Miss Shepard," he said softly, hand still holding hers firmly by the wrist.
She swallowed nervously and followed his gaze to the table. She took the turian's glass by mistake. Their drinks stood side by side, both dark red alcohol. Except his was dextro. Katie's eyes widened as she grasped what she'd almost done. Drinking dextro could potentially trigger a severe reaction, even poisoning. She felt her cheeks burning with shame—not just for her mistake, but for the fleeting moment of fear his gesture had sparked in her.
He carefully released her hand from his grasp.
Alenko sank into his seat under the admiral's searing gaze, realizing the implications of his impulsive action. He couldn't help himself—instinct had taken over before his brain could even process the situation. The turians in the room registered it for exactly what it was, but pretended to ignore it.
Shepard's voice was filled with concern, "My God, Kathreen! Please be careful. The fact that dextro won't kill you doesn't mean I want us to spend the rest of the evening in the hospital."
He exaggerated of course. Every member of the human delegation had taken antihistamines before dinner, precisely to avoid a situation like that. It wasn't a silver bullet, but it could alleviate some symptoms. And as most of his people were severely allergic to dextro, he had also prepared for possible dextro-levo food cross-contamination, with atropine shots at the ready. Still, his daughter's carelessness surprised him. She looked preoccupied and distracted. He wondered why.
"Sorry," Katie murmured. Then looked at Garrus. "Thank you, Major Vakarian. That was very careless of me."
Garrus nodded, "It's all right, Miss Shepard. Not every day you share a dining table with turians. Takes time to get used to."
She gave him a grateful smile then turned her attention to the people seated around the table in silence. "I'm as embarrassed as I can be. Would anyone be so kind as to shift the conversation to a different topic?"
The humans at the table smiled, while the turians made amicable chirping sounds. The Primarch chimed in, "Major is right. It takes time getting used to. Maybe we need to have more dinners like this one… to practice."
His voice was filled with amusement and sincerity. Katie raised her glass towards the Palaven's leader and echoed his sentiment, "I'll drink to that." The mood around the table had lightened immediately, and the conversation floated further.
"So, you don't have a severe allergy, Miss Shepard?" Admiral Oraka asked from across the table.
Katie smiled at the turian. "I'm mild."
The purple-marked officer made a distinct click, clearly intrigued by the female's answer. Garrus watched him closely. Admiral Septimus Oraka of the First Fleet was a good turian and a good soldier, a respected figure among his subordinates and the Hierarchy alike. His wisdom and experience were well-known, and he occasionally indulged in light-hearted jabs and reminiscences about his younger days, a trait that was endearing to many. Despite his age, the Hierarchy respected his wish to continue his service to the turian people, though it occasionally raised a brow plate or two among his subordinates. Garrus had never met the admiral in person before the peace summit, but he respected his achievements like any other turian. And yet… Oraka's subharmonics filled him with unease.
There were three types of dextro-allergic reactions among humans. Severe caused anaphylactic shock and possibly death if untreated; moderate resulted in rash and swelling from direct contact and poisoning from digestion; and mild meant no direct contact was harmful, still leaving the possibility of indigestion from consumed dextro foods.
Katie was mild, but Garrus already knew that. His chest vibrated slightly at the memory of their intimacy, of the way she had felt against him without any adverse reaction. The aching sweetness of that image always turned bitter with the knowledge of how reckless he had been back on Lindor. She could have been severely allergic—she could have died in his arms. The thought made his plates ripple whenever he dwelled on it. Stupid, careless turian.
Katie's response only served to pique Oraka's curiosity further, and judging by admiral's chirping sounds, he knew what 'mild' meant.
"A rare thing," the older turian mused, drawing out the words as he studied Katie.
She shrugged, clearly oblivious to the subtle changes in his dual-tones. "We all take the antihistamine now, just in case."
Septimus's eyes were fixed on her. "Oh?"
"A standard human practice, actually," Garrus interjected casually. "It takes its roots from the battlefield."
Oraka's gaze flickered briefly at the younger turian with slight irritation, but he quickly regained his composure and subdued his undertones. "Ah, I see," he said, clearing his throat. "And why is that?"
Garrus smirked to himself, hearing the confusion in Septimus's voice. The admiral was a seasoned officer who had risen up the ranks and into the top tier of the Hierarchy before the First Contact had even occurred. The days of him having his boots on the ground were long behind—Oraka knew the war through tactical maps and command reports, but he hadn't experienced the brutal intimacy of actual combat in decades.
But Garrus saw those things firsthand. And so did Alenko, who suddenly spoke. "You never know if a turian you are fighting decides to spit in your mouth," the human said, looking at the admiral with a cold stare of his grey eyes.
It was a dark joke, unless you were a turian, of course. But no turian would dare to laugh. Garrus smirked to himself once more, watching the human soldier. He saw the tension. Alenko's body language screamed discomfort and annoyance. It was apparent that, unlike Shepard's daughter, he wasn't comfortable at this kind of social events. Just like Garrus, he had little skill in diplomacy and preferred the more straightforward approach of combat. But they both had their orders—play nice and don't bite.
Garrus saw Katie lift her brow fur at the major and give him a look of disapproval, as her eyes said, Way to kill the mood.
The dining room hummed with the gentle clinking of cutlery against plates, and the low murmur of conversation flowed more freely, aided by the excellent wine and dextro brandy. Stories were exchanged, and even a few jokes were shared, as everyone was carefully avoiding any mention of the war that had brought them all to this point.
Stephen Hackett leaned forward slightly, his eyes focused on General Victus across the table. He'd been studying the white-marked turian for a while now, before finally saying, "If you don't mind my asking, General. I've always been curious about something. The markings on your faces. Do they have any particular significance to turians nowadays?"
Victus's mandibles flared slightly in what the humans had come to recognize as a turian smile. "Indeed they do," he replied with a tint of pride. "Even today, they are an important part of our culture and history."
Other turians at the table perked up. The topic seemed pretty important for them.
"The tradition, as you might know, dates back to the time before our Unification War," Victus continued. "Originally, they were used to differentiate between colonies. Each colony had its own unique markings. After the war, the Hierarchy assimilated the tradition. Now, they serve as a way to advertise our place of origin—a home colony or even a specific region on Palaven."
Admiral Shepard nodded thoughtfully. "A beautiful way to preserve your heritage."
"Indeed," Admiral Oraka agreed, his purple markings standing out starkly against his plates. He then turned to Katie and spoke right to her. "What many don't know is that our markings are actually lines of text in ancient turian language. Each colony has its own unique slogan or motto."
"Oh," she said. Her tone made Garrus chuckle to himself. The admiral clearly tried to impress her with the fact she already knew. She played along, faking her surprise to Oraka's utmost satisfaction. Little trickster. "Would you mind sharing what your markings mean, Admiral Oraka?"
Oraka's mandibles flared in a wide turian smile, clearly pleased by the young female's enthusiasm. "Of course. Mine reads, 'Loyalty to our cause shapes our destiny.' It's the motto of my home colony on Digeris."
"Beautiful," Katie's eye sparkled with excitement. "What about yours, Vice Admiral Qui'in?" she asked the turian next to Oraka.
Qui'in cleared his throat, "'Duty fulfilled is a life well lived.'"
Katie's eye turned to Victus who already knew what she wanted from him and met her gaze with a smile.
'"Courage in action, loyalty in heart.'"
The humans listened intently, some very surprised by the depth of meaning behind what they had previously thought were merely decorative markings.
"They are so intricate," Katie marveled studying Oraka's face. "So each time you look at a turian, you're essentially reading a piece of poetry or a meaningful phrase?"
Garrus smiled at her girlish way of thinking about it. Primarch Vakarian nodded, "In a sense, yes. Though I'm not sure all of our colonial slogans would qualify as poetry."
This elicited laughter from the turian side of the table.
"Not all the meanings are so serious," Garrus explained. "Some colonies have mottos that are practically inside jokes."
"Oh? Like what?" she asked.
"Well, there's a small mining colony in the Apien Crest whose motto is… a bit too crude… but can be roughly translated as 'We dig deeper than most.'"
It was humans' turn to laugh.
General Anderson joined the conversation. "Do turians get their tattoos at birth?"
Primarch Vakarian shook his head. "No, they're typically applied when a turian comes of age and enters military service. It's a way of connecting us to our heritage and reminding us of our duty to the Hierarchy."
"Is it painful?" Katie asked.
Victus nodded. "It can be, yes. The process involves a form of tattooing using specially formulated inks that bond with our plates. It's a rite of passage for many young turians, and pain is an important element."
Admiral Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Sounds intense. Do all turians go through this?"
"Most do," Garrus replied. "Though it's not strictly mandatory, it's deeply ingrained in our culture. Of course, not all turians view the markings with the same reverence. There are always rebels in any society."
This caught Anderson's attention. "Oh? How so?"
"Well, there are some, particularly younger turians, who view the traditional markings as outdated. They might create their own designs or forgo them altogether."
"Those who choose not to wear markings are often viewed with suspicion," the Primarch said sternly. "We even have a term—'barefaced.' It's not exactly a compliment. It implies someone who can't be trusted, or who doesn't have strong ties to their community."
Alenko, who had been silent until now, spoke in a sullen voice. "We've seen one exactly like that."
The room fell quiet as everyone knew who the human was referring to.
Primarch Vakarian's mandibles tightened with discontent. "It's not a trend we encourage. The markings are an important part of our social fabric. And the mistakes of the past, such as the Unification War."
Admiral Shepard, sensing the slight tension, steered the conversation in a different direction. "Primarch, you never told us about the Vakarian clan markings? What do they mean?"
While every human at the table turned to the Primarch, Katie looked at Garrus. He heard her heart miss a beat as she saw into his eyes. She was thinking the same thing he was consumed by the memory of the moment he had told her.
"What do these mean."
She was sitting in his lap, giving him her warmth and soothing the aching pain. Her hand touched his mandible, making it twitch from the contact. Gentle human fingers traced the lines of his markings, leading her hand from one side of his face to another. Garrus was silent for a moment as he sat unmoving, marveling at her in that moment, then he spoke quietly…
'"Service with honor. Valor above all."'
A hush fell over the table. All eyes turned to Katie, who suddenly realized she had spoken the words out loud. Admiral Oraka made a clicking sound, looking at her with extreme curiosity.
The Primarch's mandibles flared. "That's... correct, Miss Shepard. Are you familiar with ancient turian script? The meanings of our colonial markings are not easily found in open extranet sources."
Even Shepard was now looking at her with the silent question.
Garrus rushed to intervene. "I might have mentioned the Vakarian clan slogan to Miss Shepard before." Technically it was the truth. He turned to her, "I'm impressed you remembered."
"Yes," she said, forcing a smile. "I thought it was fascinating."
The Primarch nodded, seemingly satisfied with the explanation. "Well, I'm pleased to see such interest in our traditions from our human counterparts."
Katie caught Garrus's eye, silently thanking him for the save.
The conversation continued, with the humans asking more questions about the markings and their significance.
Admiral Oraka observed Katie with interest. "You really find markings fascinating, Miss Shepard?" he said, his voice carrying a tone Garrus didn't like.
"Very much so," she answered. "I like the difference of colors. How are they chosen?"
Oraka answered with a purr. "White is common as it goes in contrast with most plating colors. Additional colors are used to signify additional details. On Palaven, for instance, different regions often use different colors or shades."
"Purple is an unusual color for markings, isn't it?"
Oraka's seemed very pleased with the question. "Indeed it is, my dear. The purple is unique to my colony—Digeris. The color comes from a peculiarity of the planet's atmosphere. During certain times of the year, the sky takes on a deep purple hue due to the refraction of light through high-altitude ice crystals."
"It's so beautiful." She smiled at the turian. "Actually, it's my favorite color."
Garrus frowned. He knew she was only trying to be polite and engaging with her father's guests, but she wouldn't be doing that if she could hear the raging vibrations of Septimus's subvocals.
"Perhaps you'd like to hear more about the history of Digeris and its unique marking traditions?" Oraka suggested.
Katie nodded, trying to be a gracious host. "I'd be delighted, Admiral."
She delved into the conversation with the older turian, failing to notice the change in his demeanor. Garrus, however, didn't miss the shift—and he wasn't the only one. Alenko stirred uncomfortably in his seat, casting grim glances at the admiral beside him before looking back at Katie, gauging her reaction.
With the dinner plates cleared and dessert served, Admiral Shepard stood up, raising his glass once more. "I want to thank you all for joining us this evening," he said, his voice warm and sincere. "When I arranged this dinner, I hoped it would provide an opportunity for us to get to know each other better, beyond the formal constraints of our negotiations. I believe we've achieved that and more."
The Primarch nodded in agreement, his previously stern features softened by the evening's camaraderie. "Indeed, Admiral. This has been a most enlightening experience."
As everyone raised their glasses, Garrus studied his father intently. Castis clearly meant what he said. His tone was as sincere—the subtle vibrations in his subvocals matched his words without a hint of deception. The Primarch's guarded expression, so stark at the beginning of the evening, had softened, as the human had delivered exactly what he promised—an honest and informal conversation. No hidden agendas, no foul play.
What do you know… The Primarch of Palaven was wrong after all.
Giorni Dispari — Ludovico Einaudi
He studied the strange object, its alien quality undeniable to him. Broad and irregular in shape, it stood on four sturdy legs for support, appearing quite heavy. The color was a sleek, glossy black, reminiscent of polished wood. However, upon closer inspection, Garrus realized that the material was unlike any wood he had ever encountered. It was too smooth to the touch, almost as if it had been treated in some way. There was something otherworldly about this peculiar object, which was only natural since it was clearly human.
Garrus first noticed it as he entered the residence and stepped into the living area. Its bulky shape was visible from the hallway, drawing his attention.
As the evening wore on and the delegates moved from the dining hall back to the living room, mingling, sipping drinks and engaging in discussions in small groups, Garrus found himself standing next to the strange object, captivated by its striking contrast to the rest of the room.
He put a hand on its smooth surface—it was cool to the touch.
"Your son looks pretty intrigued, Primarch," Shepard's voice came from behind.
The admiral was seated in the chair beside the Primarch, now sharing not only a drink but a cigar as well. Garrus turned, his brow plates raised in surprise. "Indeed I am, Admiral. It's not your standard Citadel interior design, that's for sure."
Shepard chuckled. "No, it's not. It is a grand piano."
The human term was unfamiliar to Garrus, and his expression remained perplexed. He noticed Admiral Oraka and General Qui'in nearby, their attention now drawn to the conversation.
"A musical instrument back from the old Earth. A relic of sorts," the admiral explained, sipping on his drink.
"A collectors' piece?" the Primarch asked. "Or do you play, Admiral?"
"Me? Oh, no." Shepard uttered a laugh. "It's my daughter's."
Oraka's mandibles twitched in surprise. "Your daughter plays this... instrument?"
"Kathreen plays beautifully," Shepard said with pride in his tone. "She's very talented."
She can play a musical instrument? Garrus thought. Was it common among humans? It was a rare talent among turians.
"How interesting," the Primarch drew, then looked at his son. "Major Vakarian here is very passionate about other species' music and culture."
"Is that right, Major?" the human admiral mused.
Garrus's neck flushed with heat.
"The Primarch exaggerates, sir," he said embarrassed. "But yes, I believe it's crucial to learn other species' culture to be able to communicate more efficiently. I also find it somewhat intriguing and curious—"
"Then why don't we indulge your curiosity?" Shepard interrupted, eyes sparkling with excitement he couldn't contain.
Before Garrus could respond, the admiral stood up from his seat and scanned the room.
"Kathreen, my dear!"
He found his daughter standing in the farther corner talking and laughing with the Lieutenant General Ezno and General Victus.
She looked at her father as he called her name. Shepard gestured eagerly at the grand piano. "Why don't you play for us?"
The smile on Katie's face faded slightly. "I don't think it's a good idea."
The admiral shook his head, his expression unyielding. "Come now. Indulge your father and his guests."
Her expression tightened as she noticed the roomful of turians watching her with curiosity.
Qui'in leaned in to Oraka and asked quietly, "Is this some sort of human ritual?"
Septimus clicked his jaws in a gesture of uncertainty, his eyes never leaving the human female who was becoming more intriguing. "I suppose we're about to find out."
Hackett, who had been observing the exchange with amusement, spoke up. "It's always a pleasure to listen to you play, Miss Shepard." He turned to the turians with explanation. "It's a frequent occurrence at every party the admiral hosts. He always treats his guests to some music."
"You mean tortures them with it," Katie scoffed. "He is the only one who enjoys it, the rest just endure it." Hackett laughed, and she looked back to her father. "Our turian guests may not even like human music."
"Nonsense!" The admiral assured her loudly. "Why practice if you don't ever play it."
Before Katie could say something else, the Primarch chimed in. "Miss Shepard, we are very intrigued by this point."
She looked at the turian leader, then sighed comically in a sign of surrender, and mumbled. "It's not fair. I can't refuse the Primarch of Palaven."
Castis laughed.
"Splendid!" Shepard exclaimed.
Alenko took one of the chairs and drew it closer to the piano. For her to sit on, Garrus realized. The human major had probably done this many times before listening to her play.
When Katie approached, Garrus stepped aside to allow her passage. She glanced at him briefly, and in her violet eyes, the turian read something else—something elusive, yet painfully familiar. Alenko gently pushed the chair closer to the piano, making Katie comfortable. Shepard waved his hand, inviting everyone to take a seat. Some lingered, but most spread quietly across the room and settled down on the couches and chairs. The major walked away from the piano, sitting down on the admiral's side. Garrus remained standing, brimming with excitement.
Katie opened the narrow compartment. Inside was a row of black and white keys. The turians leaned forward, their curiosity piqued by this strange human contraption.
Garrus watched as Katie's delicate fingers brushed through the stack of thin brochures of paper on the small table next to the piano.
"Something elevating, dear," Shepard requested. "None of that depressing stuff you like so much."
"I choose what I play, and you know it," her tone was a mix of exasperation and teasing.
Shepard sighed, "You never pick the classics."
"That's because I'm not ancient and dull like you," she quipped, violet eyes gleaming with mischief.
Garrus couldn't suppress a chuckle at their exchange. He noticed the other turians shifting uncomfortably, clearly taken aback by Katie's sharp retorts. To the turians, her words bordered on insubordination. It wasn't how a child should address a superior, especially not their father.
Turian family dynamics mirrored their rigid societal structure. Younger members were expected to show unwavering respect and obedience to their elders. Indulging children was seen as a character flaw, detrimental to their development. While affection had its place, it was reserved for private moments—certainly not for display in front of foreign dignitaries.
Yet Shepard laughed heartily, and Garrus realized this playful banter was a common occurrence between father and daughter. Katie's words, though sharp, did not mean to cut. Her exaggerated sighs and eye-rolls were clearly affectionate. The bond between them was evident.
Katie finally chose a brochure—musical scores?—she liked and put it on the small holder over the keys. "Admit it," she addressed her father without turning to look at him, "you just drag me around the galaxy, much like this piano, for your personal entertainment."
Shepard grinned, "Damn right I do! All those credits I spent on your tutors had to pay off somehow."
"Tyrant," she snapped in the same grumpy tone.
Garrus's mandibles twitched in a tiny smile.
A second later he was smiling no more.
As the first notes echoed through the room, he felt a strange sensation in his chest. Each movement of Katie's hands produced a captivating, lingering sound that seemed to echo under his plates.
He stood next to her, unable to move. Her melody was beautiful. It resonated against the walls, filling the room with an energy both soothing and profound. A stark contrast to the precise and minted, militaristic tunes prevailing in his culture. Not as drawling and drifting as the asari music that could put you to sleep if you were not prepared for it. No. Her music was something else entirely.
The notes emerged and intertwined, forming into something that Garrus couldn't quite explain, even if he tried. The delicate shifts in tempo, the subtle harmonics woven into each note—it was like uncovering a hidden dimension of sound, and he wondered if humans could hear it too or if it was something only his superior hearing could perceive.
He noticed the other turians in the room reacting similarly, their mandibles twitching ever so slightly as certain frequencies resonated just right. It wasn't just the emotion—it was physical. The way the vibrations aligned with turian subharmonics, creating a depth of sound unlike anything Garrus had ever experienced from a musical instrument.
He heard Oraka whisper to Anderson. "This... piano. How does it create such a range of sounds?"
"It's a complex instrument," Anderson explained. "Each key strikes a different string inside, creating a unique note. The skill lies in combining these notes into melodies and harmonies."
"Remarkable."
Garrus caught the way Oraka's gaze lingered on Katie with an expression that was almost reluctant admiration. The admiral clearly hadn't expected to find himself drawn to something so human.
As the piece finally came to an end, Katie lifted her gaze from the keys, her eyes still hazy from the melody she was in. There was a moment of silence for humans. Just as there was a moment of roaring emotion for turians, as the room was flooded with the buzz of subvocals. Garrus watched the esteemed officers of the Hierarchy completely smitten by a tiny human female, the expression of sudden appreciation on their faces.
The Primarch was the first one to gather himself—he cleared his throat and spoke up, "That... was very beautiful, Miss Shepard."
As if on cue, the turians in the room stomped their feet on the floor to the utter surprise of every human except Shepard. The admiral laughed at the alien equivalent of the applause and clapped his hands, immediately joined by Alenko and other human delegates.
"Thank you for this. A rare treat indeed," Castis continued to the host's utmost enjoyment.
"Told you she was good?" Shepard smiled at him. "Now you know why I brought her to the Citadel. My secret weapon for diplomacy."
Shepard's enthusiasm was so infectious that the Primarch couldn't but return the smile. "I see it now."
Katie was about to stand up from her chair when Oraka suddenly stopped her, "Would you play something else for us, Miss Shepard?" The question was immediately followed by the trilling sounds of agreement from other turians.
She shot a quick glance at her father, who beamed at her with encouragement, then shook her head, realizing she was not getting out of the chair any time soon, and gave Oraka one of her most charming smiles. "Of course I would, my dear Admiral."
She lifted her eyes to Garrus, her gaze lingering long enough for him to finally decipher the meaning of it. He had seen that look before, a long time ago. When Septimus's subvocals exploded at her words, Garrus knew the poor admiral didn't stand a chance. Little minx.
Shepard was a smart human indeed. This was all part of his plan and his daughter was the central piece of it. The element of charm in the diplomacy game he was so good at...
Four more classical pieces and thirty minutes later, Katie had brought her performance to a close. The room was quieter now, the music still hanging in the air, and the atmosphere had become as relaxed as it could be.
Admiral Shepard beamed with pride, yet even he would agree his daughter needed a break. "Well, now," he said, addressing the delegates, "I believe this calls for a toast. To music, to cultural exchange, and to new understandings."
As the group moved towards the bar area, Katie remained seated at the piano, her fingers lightly tracing the keys.
"That was... incredible," Garrus said softly.
Katie looked up at him. "Thank you, Major. I'm glad your people like it."
"Liked it?" He chuckled. "That's a bit downplaying it, don't you think? Look at them," he gestured towards the mixed group of delegates, now chatting animatedly. "I've never seen turians and humans interact so... freely. You've certainly shifted the vibe of this diplomatic meeting."
"This evening is not diplomatic," she said.
"It is, and you know it."
"All I do is play the piano," Katie shrugged innocently.
Garrus's mandibles flared in a smile. "Sometimes the simplest things can have the most profound impact. Your father knew exactly what he was doing."
Katie rolled her eyes, but there was affection in her voice when she spoke. "That admiral and his devious schemes. He is such an evil genius."
Evil or not, his plan certainly worked, Garrus thought, watching the mingling delegates. The music had done more than just entertain; it had connected. He saw Qui'in deep in conversation with Hackett, likely discussing the intricacies of the grand piano. Oraka was regaling Ezno with a story, gesturing passionately. Even the Primarch seemed more relaxed, engaged in what appeared to be a friendly debate with Shepard and Anderson.
He looked back at Katie, realizing the role she got to play in her father's politics. A familiar surge of affection rose in his chest at the sight, and she seemed to notice the shift in his gaze.
"I didn't know you could play."
Her smile faded, and her eyes grew more worried. She was suddenly alone with him.
"You don't know anything about me," she whispered.
"I'd like to change that, Katie..."
"We can't," she said, looking away and breaking the spell. She stood up from her chair and went to join the others at the bar. She really needed a drink.
Katie's feet ached, and her voice was hoarse. As she watched the heavy doors of the residence close, she allowed her shoulders to sag with exhaustion. Playing her father's diplomacy game wasn't easy, but she was satisfied with how the whole event had turned. The piano thing was a bit of a stretch, but she didn't expect anything less from the admiral. Despite her fatigue, Katie couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for pulling it off.
The turians stayed longer than she expected—they were probably surprised themselves with how much they enjoyed the unexpected social event. The conversation was engaging and lively, which wasn't that shocking—officers found common ground easily enough, whether human or turian. They spoke the same language of duty, combat, and command. Neither party was particularly inclined to admit it, but they found themselves genuinely appreciating each other's company.
As the evening wore on, Admiral Shepard invited the Primarch to join him in his study. The leader of Palaven accepted the invitation, and the two retired behind the closed doors of the admiral's private sanctuary. They spent a solid two hours in deep conversation, exploring potential avenues to achieve peace between their two races.
Meanwhile, Katie was entertaining Shepard's other guests. Oraka stayed close by her side throughout the evening, buzzing with animated conversation and strange trilling sounds she didn't understand. She found the gallantry and politeness of the older turian endearing, and every time he tried to make a joke, the effort itself was simply hilarious.
Throughout the evening Garrus was hovering nearby. She knew he was waiting for a chance to be alone with her without the prying eyes of their company. She never gave him one, always keeping a safe distance between them. His smile was polite, his words courteous. His eyes would soften whenever he looked at her. She tried desperately to keep her composure, to maintain the facade of indifference, but the memory of their shared moments made it hard to breathe whenever he was near. It hurt too much to see his longing, to hear those unspoken words. A constant reminder of what they could never have.
And so, she focused on other turian delegates. They really had come out of their carapaces and loosened up by the end.
When the Primarch and the admiral finally emerged from the study, their expressions were unreadable. Katie could only hope the discussion had been fruitful. When the evening drew to a close, Primarch Vakarian thanked Shepard for hosting the delightful dinner and his delegates bid farewell to their host.
Katie stood beside her father, extending warm smiles and nods to each turian. Oraka hummed non-stop as he said his goodbyes, the sound of his vibrations loud enough for humans to hear.
And then it was Garrus's turn to take his leave. Unlike the others, he didn't simply bow as he exited. No, he just had to make it difficult for her, Katie thought. He reached for her hand, just as he had in the Citadel Tower, and placed a gentle kiss on it. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson at the feel of his mouth against her skin. Garrus gave her a small, knowing smile when her heart skipped a beat. One more lingering look, and he finally departed, leaving her even more flustered than before. Damn him, that turian.
The Alliance delegates spent another half an hour in the residence, primarily discussing the upcoming round of talks. Admiral Shepard chose not to disclose the specifics of his conversation with the Primarch, merely describing it as 'enlightening, to say the least.'
Then, the human officers departed for some much-needed rest before the following day's negotiations. Alenko lingered, his gaze turning to her more than once, and Katie knew exactly what he wanted. Much like Garrus, Kaidan was hoping for a moment alone with her, but she busied herself with her father, not giving it to him. Finally, Alenko gave a polite nod to both her and the admiral before excusing himself. Shortly thereafter, the catering staff cleaned up, leaving the two Shepards alone in the residence.
Katie let out a sigh of relief when she finally slipped off her uncomfortable heels, rubbing her aching feet before stepping into her father's study. He was seated in the armchair, a drink in hand, as he lost himself in deep thought. The soft glow of the nearby lamp cast a light on his face, illuminating the deep lines etched into his features from years of stress and worry. He looked ten years older in that moment, completely exhausted. She approached, and he glanced up at her, his brown eyes meeting hers with a knowing look that spoke volumes. Without a word, she took a seat across from him. The silence between them stretched on for several moments—comfortable and familiar, as it always was.
The admiral took a sip of his drink, then asked, "Anything you want to tell me?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"The major," Shepard continued, watching her reaction closely. "He hasn't taken his eyes off you all evening."
Katie's heart stopped at the words. She couldn't believe it—he knew about Garrus! Of course he did! Only a blind wouldn't have noticed. She straightened her back preparing for the talk she couldn't avoid any longer.
This was it…
"Poor lad... Are you going to break his heart like you did with the rest, or does he actually stand a chance?"
Huh?
"I always knew there was a reason he visited our residence on Earth so frequently."
Wait, what?
Katie was suddenly confused. Earth?
Kaidan!
Her father meant Kaidan. Relief washed over her and she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. But it was momentary. Shit. Kaidan was yet another problem.
He was everything she should want, everything that made sense in the post-war world. He could offer her stability, understanding, a future without complications. And for a fleeting second she had wanted it. With the familiar scent of Earth in the air and the warmth of his presence beside her, it had seemed so right.
But then she arrived on the Citadel, and everything changed. The moment she saw Garrus, her plans and feelings were thrown into chaos. The intensity of her reaction to the turian shocked her, bringing back memories and emotions she tried so hard to bury.
Throughout the entire evening, Katie found herself caught between both their gazes. Kaidan's hopeful glances made her feel guilty. And Garrus...
Oh god, why is this so complicated? she thought, taking her father's drink and gulping it down in one swift motion.
She winced at the taste. The alcohol hit her hard, its flavor and intense heat spreading through her chest. For a moment, she welcomed the burn. It was a distraction, a physical sensation to focus on. She wished it could wash everything away. But even as the alcohol dulled her senses, it sharpened her emotions. She felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to scream, to run away from it all. But she couldn't. She was here, on the Citadel. The admiral needed her.
As the burn faded, leaving behind a lingering warmth, she opened her eyes and met her father's gaze, seeing the mixture of concern and curiosity in him.
"You are old enough to get your own glass," he smirked.
Katie rolled her eyes at him but made her way to the small cabinet anyway. She grabbed a glass and brought it back to the table for her father to pour her a drink.
"Whiskey?" she asked, looking at the brownish liquid.
"And a good kind," Shepard replied, pouring her a generous amount. "So don't wince at it. If you're going to drink it, respect it."
He filled his own glass, then gave her a long, thoughtful look as his mind drifted back to the conversation with the Primarch. It had gone relatively well, giving him a glimmer of hope for further dialogue. This was something he could build upon and expand. For her, for his beautiful daughter. This senseless war had to end. He couldn't bear the thought of Kathreen spending her younger years in fear. A brighter, more peaceful future was what he longed for, what he fought for.
Shepard's eyes softened as he recalled the evening's events. His gaze had followed her throughout the night. She had grown up so much, and she made him so proud. The little girl who had once climbed into his lap for bedtime stories had blossomed into a poised, intelligent young woman capable of navigating the treacherous waters of interspecies diplomacy.
She played her part perfectly, just as he had expected her to. There was no need for any discussion; she understood her father's ways. He improvised as they went along, but she followed his lead seamlessly. It was a dance they had perfected over years of attending Alliance functions together, a silent communication born of mutual understanding and trust.
The turians were charmed, that much was clear. Shepard had watched with amusement as both Admiral Oraka and the Primarch's son struggled to keep their eyes off her. Kathreen had handled the attention with grace, engaging in witty banter and insightful conversation that left even the most skeptical turians impressed.
And then there was Alenko… Poor guy had always been smitten with her, and now his feelings grew even more evident. Kaidan's eyes followed Kathreen all evening, filled with affection that was almost painful to witness. However, throughout the entire event, she made a conscious effort to avoid him, much to the major's disappointment.
Her actions filled Shepard's heart with a pang of regret. Alenko was not the only one who had attempted to court her in the past couple of years. She had consistently rebuffed all of their advances, leaving their feelings unrequited. The admiral had watched as promising officers and diplomats had tried to win her heart only to be met with polite but firm rejection.
As he observed her now, sipping her whiskey with a faraway look in her eyes, Shepard felt a surge of protective love mixed with a deep, aching sadness. He knew the root of her isolation, the reason behind her reluctance to let anyone close.
"He is a good and honorable man," the admiral said, carefully testing the waters.
Katie arched a brow, "Is he now?"
"A solid guy," her father smiled, ignoring her tone. "A good match."
Katie rolled her eyes. "I thought you never wanted me to marry into the military life," she said, still not convinced by his apparent change of heart on the matter.
"Every good man serves in the Alliance nowadays," he said. "With this endless war, there is no life but military life. And now, if the negotiations fall through, who knows…"
She took a big sip. "Matchmaking doesn't suit you, Admiral. Stick to what you know."
He let out a hearty laugh. "All I'm saying," he replied, raising his hands defensively, "is that I want to see you happy, kiddo. I know it's been real tough for you lately. Ever since..."
He didn't finish. He didn't have to. The words hung in the air between them, unspoken but understood. Shepard watched her, his heart heavy with sorrow. Ever since her harrowing experience with the slavers, his daughter had become so withdrawn, so void of life. She never spoke to him about it, never talked to anyone, despite his persistent efforts to convince her to open up. If not to him, he begged her to talk to professionals, doctors, counsellors. He didn't know the full extent of what had happened to her on that planet, and he felt helpless, locked in a limbo of not knowing and not being able to do anything about it.
Kathreen was a strong and resilient kid, taking after her mother, but the trauma of that place had left deep scars. He could see her healing, returning to her former self, but it was a painstakingly slow process. He hoped that bringing her to the Citadel would provide a change of scenery, a fresh start. She had always been fascinated by the station and the diverse races that inhabited it. He prayed the excitement and novelty of it would help her find her way back to the vibrant, lively girl she had once been.
"I am happy, dad." She set down her drink and rose from her seat, making her way over to him, then climbed up onto the armrest of his chair and wrapped her arms around him. "Besides," she continued, her voice filled with assurance, "I've got you, don't I?"
Shepard let out a sigh, allowing himself to be enveloped in his daughter's embrace. She had always been a comforting presence, giving him those warm hugs as if to shield him from the world. "You won't have me forever, Katie," he said with a serious undertone. "I am an old man, and I... I just want to know you're taken care of when I'm gone." The thought of leaving her behind weighed heavily on his heart, ever since the beginning of the war.
She pulled back slightly.
"Dad, please."
Then her expression changed into a playful smile. "It's that whiskey of yours. It makes you sentimental. And tastes terrible."
Shepard laughed.
"And since you've decided to be a gloomy old man," she continued. "I'm out and off to bed."
She gently kissed his cheek, then climbed down from the armrest.
"Night, dad."
"Goodnight, kiddo," he said, watching her walk out of his study.
When the door clicked shut, Shepard looked into his glass, swirling the amber liquid thoughtfully, as if it held the answers he needed. There was too much to think about, too many decisions waiting to be made. Tomorrow would bring another round of negotiations—another battle for peace. A peace she deserved. A peace that would last. And Admiral Shepard would see it through, no matter the cost.