skin, bone, and arrogance
A Year Ago
Coruscant
It wasn't going to be what she had imagined.
Natasi Fortan, favored daughter of Galidraan, onetime Countess of Herevan, not being married out of the church her father had built for her mother in the village seemed -- sacrilegious, somehow. She had always expected to marry there, as her parents had. It would have been most appropriate for her first wedding, to a Galidraani nobleman from a neighboring province, and yet her wedding to Talbot had been a small affair at the Temple of the Balance in Avalonia, sparsely attended by her cousin Pierce and one or two other witnesses.
Natasi Fortan, Supreme Leader of the First Order-in-Exile and the Renascent Republic, not being married in a thrilling state wedding in New Sterandel seemed equally -- wrong, somehow. Never a woman to overlook a sense of occasion, she had once imagined herself standing with Dyrn before the great and good of Renascent society in the Temple of the Enlightened Balance, the pair of them basking in the adoration of the crowds that reliably turned out any time she so much as set foot on the River Palace balcony would have been quite something. She was not so ignorant of herself to think it her primary concern, but it did seem rather a shame to deprive the people of the holiday atmosphere, the chance to be part of things.
Natasi Fortan, bride of a Keshian soldier, not being married in his tradition seemed -- ill-fated, somehow. The rich tapestry of Dyrn's upbringing had informed their relationship just as much as the hidebound traditionalism of her own Galidraani one. Dyrn's presence was solid and warm, substantial, and yet there was no question that between the pair of them, Natasi's was the more recognizable name and face, a relic -- literally, she had to ruefully confess, and figuratively -- of decades in the public eye. Natasi had desperately wanted to honor the man and his heritage in their nuptials, even going so far as to float the idea of marrying on Keshi.
But time and tide waited for no man, and with the galaxy falling to pieces and war looking ever larger on the horizon, Natasi and Dyrn didn't want to wait any longer.
And so instead of a long white gown and train, it was a simple, pale ivory, knee-length sheath dress that Natasi Fortan smoothed as she stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom of her penthouse. Instead of the Fortan tiara -- worn by dozens of her forebears -- a simple matching hat perched atop her chestnut hair. "You don't think it's -- " she began, but her voice faltered as she took herself in in the mirror.
Charlotte Reed approached from behind, setting aside a glass of champagne on the dresser before coming into view behind Natasi in the mirror. Charlotte -- Charlie, to friends like Natasi -- had not the benefit of being resurrected into a fresh clone body and spending a significant amount of time in the Netherworld and, thus, had aged, her black hair gone entirely to silver. "What?" she prompted Natasi before tugging the high-necked blazer down a bit. Natasi chewed the inside of her cheek briefly, not sure what exactly. Plain? Casual? But hadn't that been the point of it?
"I feel like he deserves... more," Natasi said uncertainly. The dress and coat were, of course, incredibly well-made and expensive, however plain they might be compared to the garb of a Galidraani society wedding.
"Hm," Charlie said briefly, her eyes trailing down Natasi's form in the mirror. "Oh, I understand."
"What's the matter?" Natasi asked anxiously, her eyes following Charlotte's down her slender frame, subtly adjusting the coat.
Charlotte met her gaze in the mirror and tutted. "Nothing's the matter, Natasi. You're just nervous."
"Nervous? Me?" The onetime Grand Moff who had spoken before crowds of hundreds of thousands -- millions on the holo -- and who now represented her government to the Galactic Alliance Senate -- nervous? The suppressed laughter in her voice made it clear that the suggestion was almost too absurd for words, except that as soon as Charlotte said it, Natasi recognized that it was entirely true. "Oh -- by the Balance -- why? Dyrn is -- "
"Perfect," Charlotte interjected as she went to retrieve her champagne.
"Perfect," Natasi agreed with a smirk. "And -- we know each other so well. I can't imagine life without him. Why would I be nervous?"
"Darling Natasi. I fear we haven't the time to explore the entire tapestry of your neuroses," said Charlotte dismissively. "But if I know you (and luckily for us both, I do) there's a bit of you that is afraid of failing at this. You view your first marriage as not being the success you would have wished but that's largely because the poor man died very soon into it, and just between you and I, I'm not sure our men are capable of supporting a powerful woman. For them, a woman's place is in the home, remember? But what I am sure of is that Talbot didn't even try." Natasi gave her a withering look and Charlotte met it with a steely look. "I knew you don't like to speak ill of the dead and usually I can respect that, but this is more important than that. Even if your first marriage was a failure (which, by the way, is a point I do not concede) it takes two people to make a marriage a failure."
Natasi busied herself with affixing a small enamel pin to her coat collar, bearing the insignia of the Enlightened Balance.
"Dyrn isn't Talbot, and isn't it a blessed relief," Charlotte gently reminded Natasi. "And you aren't the same woman you were back then. Life and death -- that war and every war since -- it's changed you as much as it's changed any of us."
"For the better, right?" Natasi straightened the pin before locking it in place. The Supreme Leader had meant it as a joke, but when Charlotte didn't respond, she glanced over at her friend and confidant. "For the better, right?"
Charlie looked up from her communicator, where she had been furiously texting
George F Vitalis
. Any word on R? "Oh -- of course," Charlotte said tartly, then smiled playfully. "Now. We haven't got time for you to go to pieces. Get your hat pin in and let's go, or you'll be late. These registry office clerks are officious little twits and they won't care that you're a Senator or a Supreme Leader if you show up late. Give these little people a taste of power and it goes to their power like strong drink.""You sound like granny," Natasi said. She tucked the hatpin carefully in place, to secure her hat in case of a strong breeze, and collected her handbag.
"The Dowager Countess was a stalwart figure," Charlotte said, briefly distracted by the buzzing of her commlink. A message from George: Nothing yet. ETA?
"Who is that?" Natasi asked.
"The caterer. I'm afraid they're out of the beef you requested and wanted to know if you'd take dianoga eels instead. Now mind your own business and let's go," Charlotte said, pointing stiff-armed toward the waiting airspeeder.
