The Sun Won't Set

[Natasi Fortan]

Some months ago

As the weeks had passed since Clémence Wallace had come to Herevan Place with the news of Talbot Vitalis' death, the paralyzing shock that Natasi felt had melted into denial, which in turn had been met with a fiery rage the likes of which she had never experienced. After the betrayal of her cabinet colleagues in their attempt to throw her out of office, Natasi had fled the capital in a depression, leaving the government in the capable hands of [member="Dante Calgar"], seeking refuge in County Herevan. The charms of the Dower House -- spared from the fire by its presence in the village of Herevan rather than the estate itself -- were few, but the house had served as a refuge and headquarters as she set things in motion to rebuild the big house. Now Countess of Herevan, thanks to Talbot's advocacy with the council of nobility, she had what she needed to restore Herevan Hold to its former glory.

And yet, she couldn't quite settle in.

She returned to the First Order, still grieving and stricken with depression and malaise, but ready to resume her duties. As had always been the case, work soothed her, but still, there was something missing. She had George -- by this time, squirreled away in an undisclosed location with Pierce as a guardian -- but as much as she loved the golden-haired little boy, she needed more.

It took Natasi six months to admit to herself that she wanted to marry again. She had always wanted more children; so had Talbot.

It took her another six to realize that it was an unlikely dream.

Her chilly demeanor, her uncompromising expectations, and her unyielding standards -- to say nothing of her position in the First Order -- made it an impossible dream. She would live out the rest of her life a widow. It had been a sobering realization and an unpleasant one, but as a Galidraani noblewoman, she realized the importance of facing facts and moving forward in reality rather than the comforting embrace of delusion. Of course, not all Galidraani women were this way, but who could explain genetic flukes of that nature?

Still. She tidied up the emotions of this awful realization and set about to strategize her next move. Not being married again didn't mean not being able to have another child. In fact, she and Talbot had agreed to -- well, for lack of a better term -- ensure the continuation of their line by scientific means, if necessary. Science was a thing of marvel, after all.

It was all perfectly aboveboard, perfectly respectful, but still, Natasi felt a little bit out of sorts as she settled into the club chair opposite Dr. Miles Penneford's desk. She fumbled with her large-framed sunglasses in her lap and smiled nervously as her longtime physician examined her superficially before asking: "You look well, Your Excellency. What can I do for you today?"

Natasi opened her handbag and deposited her sunglasses therein. She made a display of snapping the closures and then set her handbag on the ground next to her primly crossed ankles. "I -- ah -- well, I am perfectly well actually. I mean -- obviously, it's all a bit... terrible, actually. But work is keeping me busy, you know." She cleared her throat and smoothed her gloves down her wrists. "The reason I came -- to talk to you directly instead of over the comms, it's a bit of a touchy subject -- is," she paused, cleared her throat again. "Dr. Penneford, I would like to have another child. My husband and I took -- steps -- to make that possible if one or the other of us should pass away. And it's just that I'm... not getting younger," she declared delicately.

Penneford offered a kind smile. "You are within normal child-bearing years, Natasi, if towards the tail end. If you want another child -- and if you wish to carry it yourself -- then now is a good time. You are -- let's see." He pulled her file towards him, flipping through the years of her medical history, from birth to the childhood accident that lacerated her face, to the corrective surgery fixing her slightly crossed eye, to the report on her healing following being tortured nearly to death during her captivity on Hoth, to injuries sustained during the Mustafar invasion and through to the birth of her son and the application of anti-depressants following Talbot Vitalis' death. "Thirty-six. A few more years, at least, although you must be aware that the risk of complication increases with every year."

"Yes," Natasi said. "I'm ready, now. I would like for my children to be reasonably close in age, and there are people who I trust to take the reigns of the First Order when I deliver. The time is ideal, insofar as it can be." The ideal would have been with her husband at her side, the old-fashioned way, without all the clinical folderol. "How soon can I -- er -- begin?"

"We'll do some tests," said Penneford. "Determine when you'll be most -- " He broke off when Natasi looked sharply. " -- apt to conceive," he amended himself quickly. "Once we've established that, it's really only a matter of mathematics. Since the -- um -- materials we'll be working with are somewhat limited, I propose that we place you on a regimen to help things along. It's all very dignified, I can assure you, and the side effects are limited. It should have minimal to no impact on your day-to-day."

Natasi inhaled slowly and then inclined her head. "Fine. Let's begin." She took off her blazer and rolled up her blouse sleeve.

"Ma'am?" Penneford asked, eyebrows lofting somewhat.

"Blood tests, I imagine?" Natasi brandished her alabaster forearm. Penneford nodded hesitantly. "I'm ready now. Let's begin," she repeated firmly.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Some weeks ago - Bakura

"The miracle of bringing another life into the galaxy is a beautiful, poignant thing," Natasi said as she walked arm-in-arm with her cousin, Pierce, in one of the namana orchards on what had once been her maternal grandparents' estate. It remained a producing estate, providing a significant amount of namana for export. The fruit was known for its slightly addictive nature, given that it stimulated pleasure-centers in the brain like certain spices. Natasi was a fan of the candies, which induced a feeling of well-being and relaxation and pleasure; she had one planted between her teeth and the inside of her cheek now as she strolled with Pierce, having just stopped to brace herself against a bout of overwhelming nausea. "But let me tell you, it's also bloody annoying."

"Weren't you quite finished with the morning sickness and all that mess by this time with George?" asked Pierce, pushing his sunglasses up on his nose and casting a glance at his cousin. "He seemed like such an easy pregnancy."

"He was," Natasi conceded. "This one, though." She cupped her swollen abdomen and sighed lovingly. "A monster."

"I suppose you're quite, quite sure about all this," Pierce said after a moment's pause. He looked over at her again, then took one of the candies from his pocket. If she was going to indulge, he might as well, too.

"If I'm not," Natasi said. "It's rather too late now." She was sure, though. More sure about this than anything else. She wanted another child, and there were countless reasons for it. Another opportunity for Talbot's lineage to live on. A playmate for George. Someone to keep George company if something should happen to Natasi. In a post-Skor world, there was every possibility that such a precaution was required. "I want George to have a sibling. I had Mathes." She paused for a moment. "Do you know, there are days where I can't remember what he looked like? He's been dead almost twenty years now. Isn't that terrible?"

"It's... natural," Pierce said quietly. They continued along in a companionable silence until Pierce suppressed a chuckle. "If Uncle Frejrik could see you now. Not only having been married to Talbot Vitalis but having a child with him and carrying another. He'd be turning in his grave if he weren't in an urn." Pierce squeezed Natasi's hand gently. "It's an odd affair, even you must admit."

"I did love him, you know," Natasi said, perhaps a touch defensively. "In my way." She switched the namana candy from one side of her mouth to the other, enjoying the taste. "I still think it would have been a successful marriage if it had lasted. By evolutionary standards, by Galidraani standards, it was successful. We took two well-respected family names, each with wealth and position and estate, and combined them into one, and when George inherits Herevan he will be one of the wealthiest landowners on Galidraan. He can write his own ticket. We did well, Talbot and I." She sighed and looked up as a branch rustled. A Cratsch leapt from one tree to the next. "But more than that... we got on, most of the time. We argued -- Balance knows -- but every couple argues, don't they? Mama and Papa tried to keep it behind closed doors, but they did."

"But your Papa never did to your Mama what Talbot's family did to you," Pierce pointed out.

Natasi smirked. "True. Can you imagine? But when he came back it was all different. And the explanation hung together. His father was always too nasty for words." The Grand Moff pulled her wrap tighter around her frame. "The truth is, Pierce, that he wanted me. He wanted me, which is more than I can say for -- " She blanched. Even now, her pride would not let her name Ludolf Vaas or Darell Irani. " -- for any of the other men I foolishly wanted. With Talbot it was just right. It wasn't difficult and it didn't hurt. It just was. Maybe there wasn't a lot of fire or spark, but there was enough there. And I feel like I owe it to him. I don't know. Am I being ridiculous?"

Pierce shrugged. "Not my circus, not my monkies."

"Just your... well, second-cousins I guess, but I think of George as your nephew."

"Do you know the sex yet?" asked Pierce. He began crunching the candy between his teeth.

Natasi shook her head. "I think I want to be surprised this time." She stopped and glanced at her wristwatch. "We should start heading back. I want to give George his tea so he remembers what I look like."