Fame, Fortune & Your First Wife | Closed

[Natasi Fortan]

It had been a late night. Overseeing preparations for the upcoming attack on the Silver Jedi had gone into the wee hours, and this combined with the Supreme Leader's recent health problems -- known to few outside of Natasi and select other members of the Supreme Leader's confidence -- was weighing heavily on the Grand Moff. She sat in her office for a long time after everyone had left. Even then, even alone, she didn't allow herself to slump against the backrest on her high-backed chair. She sat ramrod straight, staring at the dying embers in the fireplace opposite her desk, the flames dancing in her eyes. Another war, when the last one had only just been won. It was too awful, even in cases like this, when it was justified.

Natasi wasn't looking forward to it. Not a bit.

There was a knock at her door. Her eyes immediately refocused, turning to the door. "Come," she called authoritatively, expecting Clémence Wallace. Indeed, her loyal private secretary pushed the door open, bringing in a tray with some toast, bacon, and fried tomato. "What's this?"

"You missed dinner," said Clémence. "Central Command was here." She came over and set the tray on the corner of Natasi's desk. "His Lordship asked me to be sure you ate."

Natasi paused. Her day had blurred; how was it nearly midnight? "Of course," she said. "Let's go over the schedule for tomorrow."

"War Cabinet at 0800, your weekly with the Supreme Leader at 1000, troop assembly review between 1200 and 1600, legislative clerks meetings 1640 to 1930, dinner with His Lordship 2000 to 2100, situation room 2115 to 2300," Clémence rattled off. "As you requested, I've found people to take your box at the opera for this season."

Natasi finished her first piece of toast and poured herself a cup of herbal tea, finally standing up. She carried her tea to the window, overlooking the park. It was nearly deserted by now; she spotted a man walking his dog on the sidewalk that ran around the perimeter of the park. She smirked her approval when he paused to pick up the dog's business. Decent. Courteous. Clean. She returned to her tray and picked up a piece of bacon, which she ate. "I need to see my physician once every other week -- can you be sure my scheduler sets that up?"

"No problem, ma'am."

The Grand Moff glanced at her wristwatch. "I think twenty hours is quite enough for one day, don't you? Why don't you stay in one of the guest rooms? Send one of the junior secretaries to feed your cat."

"Don't mind if I do, ma'am. Thank you," Clémence said. "If that's all...?"

Natasi waved her hand. "Go ahead. I'm just going to finish my dinner."

Despite living above the shop -- so to speak -- the journey from office to home was exhausting for Natasi as she pulled herself up the stairs. Her feet ached, her back ached, and there was something that was bothering her which she couldn't quite place. Something was wrong, but Natasi couldn't put her finger on it. Once she reached the Residence, nodding her thanks to the guardsman who stood outside the doors to the flat. She padded down the hall to the master bedroom, where a light was shining through the cracked door. She entered to see [member="Talbot Vitalis"] sitting on the floor near the window, leaning against a pillow against the wall, a book cradled in his lap.

"You're up late," Natasi murmured as she paused in the doorway, pulling her heels off one at a time and setting them in her closet before moving over to him, leaning down to kiss him softly. "Are you quite well?"

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Talbot looked up as his wife entered, his lips turning up at the edges. "Quite well," he said. "Didn't want to miss you." He gathered his legs to his chest and watched, somewhere between voyeur and supportive husband, as Natasi disrobed. It was too late to call for her maid, but her uniform didn't require anything fancy. She shrugged out of her jacket, hanging it on a hook near the door where it would disappear before morning, like magic. A servant collected all the washing overnight and hey, presto it was returned -- washed, dried, fluffed, and folded or hung up -- in the closet or wardrobe the next day. She unbuttons her blouse, half-turning timidly from her husband's appraising gaze.

Insecure, even now, he mused to himself, pretending to busy himself with his book's dustcover. When he looked up again, she was in a silken blue kimono, a filmy nightgown beneath, and she put a leg up on the stool of her dressing table to roll her stockings down. Her clothing went into the hamper or onto hooks, for the little elves to work their magic the next day. She ran a tight ship, or whoever ran her household did. Finally, the Grand Moff seated herself at her dressing table, looked at her reflection in the mirror, and gave a dejected sigh.

"What is it?" he asked. She didn't answer, instead dropping her head down to look at the polished surface of her dressing table. She sat in silence for a moment, motionless, before straightening her head and pushing her hair back. She pulled an earring from one ear, then the other, and dropped them into her jewelry box. Talbot stood, walked over to stand behind her, gently setting the book down on the table beside her elbow. "Natasi?" His hands found her shoulders, squeezed softly. "You can talk to me, you know. I'm not just here to keep the bed warm." He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

[member="Natasi Fortan"]