Work Text:
After a long absence beset with loneliness and difficulty, Lord Darth Vader was once more home in the Imperial capital. He stood in a half-hidden alcove just off the main ballroom, watching the Emperor Palpatine deftly weave his courteous way through clusters of nobles and higher-ranking bureaucrats. As the ruler paused to greet loyalists eager to be noticed, Vader smiled slightly behind his ebon facemask. To others it seemed as if Palpatine was meandering, mingling as the whim struck him. Vader, however, knew the elder Sith well. Palpatine actually moved in a subtle trajectory that would ultimately lead to the Dark Lord's place of solitude.
Vader would eventually have to emerge from his nook of draperies and cool shadow. This celebration was being given in his honor, after all -- to celebrate his escape from the destruction of the Death Star battle station. Palpatine at least was jubilant. Most of his guests were only pleased to have opportunity to see and be seen, dance and feast, show off their obscenely expensive regalia, drink too much, and then partake of illicit and polymorphous sexual trysts they could blame on the cocktails and wines.
They would pay the price in hangovers for the deeds they contemplated but could not quite commit when sober. Most were petty, luxurious amoral beings, dependent on Palpatine for nearly everything, even for their senses of self. They were children, really, and Vader's flash of near-pity briefly rivaled his ancient contempt for these fluttering, glittering, tinkling courtiers and hangers-on.
Members of the armed forces had, by sheer virtue of their discipline and duties, not fallen to such levels of decadent impotence. Yet few military figures besides Vader's top officers were here. During the Dark Lord's journey back to the Empire, an all-out search for the new Rebel base had commenced.
Palpatine was furious about the Death Star’s destruction and secretly saddened – although he valiantly tried to keep it from his warlord – by the loss of Grand Moff Tarkin. Vader did not share his master’s distress. The space station was a misguided waste, and the late Tarkin a sadistic idiot. The Dark Lord had returned to Coruscant with exultation in his heart that had nothing to do with relief at his own delayed homecoming.
He toyed with the prospect of opening the latticework double doors before him and stepping out into the gardens before the Emperor reached him. Vader’s emotional state was hardly appropriate to tonight's occasion, and he wanted to be questioned about it even less than he wanted to mingle. Should he return to the throng, he would be spared most of Palpatine's queries, concerns, and half-wary intimacies meant to solidify their Force-bond – their deeply flawed dyad – that was too strained by events and arguments of the last decade. Vader was uncertain whether this gala was really for his surviving to return to the ruler's side, or tacit praise for his doing so in a relatively timely fashion.
Yet should he rejoin the crowd, he would be confronted with the person who'd caused him to leave it in the first place. Leave? he mocked himself silently. N o, you fled like a green draftee.
He long ago came to terms with Palpatine's half-possessive, half-resentful obsession with him; it was the Dark Lord's comfort and his bane. But the loneliness and longing radiating from Kathara Tarkin was another matter entirely. Vader and she had spent one night together when she was still Akim Tarkin's wife, and a bond had formed between them that could never be acknowledged again.
Palpatine was cruel to invite her here tonight, and foolish of Kathara to accept. And Vader was both whenever he was in the same room with her, unable to touch her or converse in any meaningful way. He dared not treat her differently than the other guests. The Emperor had ended their relationship before it had really begun, furious at the political risk Vader had taken and resenting the woman who had dared get close to his Dark Lord. Ironically, if Vader had been more promiscuous in the past, Palpatine might have accepted the affair with more equanimity. Then the ruler could have believed that Kathara had meant little to Vader.
"I knew if I searched enough nooks and crannies I'd eventually find you," a rich female voice stated behind him. Vader turned in recognition and relief at this interruption of his reverie.
"Tamaris," he answered, turning to face her. Perhaps it was his dark ponderings or his genuine appreciation for the governor that made him notice her nearly radiant beauty this evening. He appraised her in a glance, taking the slim hand she extended toward him as if confirming he was indeed real and solid, undeniably alive despite the Death Star, and really finally here .
Vader bowed over her hand in a courtly gesture he offered few beings, noticing her shining dark curls, how her crimson satin gown complemented her fair complexion, and the narrowness of her waist -- which he knew he could span with his gauntleted hands, although he'd never tried it. "Have you been making your meddlesome Council behave?" he asked.
She laughed. "I was tempted to ask whether you are all right, but you've just given me proof that you are. " Her smile was warm. "Yes, they have fallen into line quite nicely."
"You were right." Then she grew more serious, her voice suddenly soft. "I can help you with your political trials, you know. I would be more than happy to take your arm and guide you through that den of wild beasts if you must go back." She gestured toward the ballroom.
Palpatine was now only several meters away.
Impulsively the younger Sith placed Tamaris' hand around his arm, as if ready to follow her suggestion, but then pushed open the exit and led her onto the veranda. As he closed the doors behind them, she gently squeezed his bicep. "They'll still find you out here, you know."
"That's why we're not staying this close," he replied, gratified that he could still surprise her at times. She released his arm to lift the hem of her long dress, and together they descended the stairs and ventured into the lamp-lit depths of the gardens.
It was a warm summer night, the sky so brilliantly clear that stars even permeated the perpetual glow given off by the city lights. Few beings had wandered out here, as Vader had anticipated. That would come later, when couples and groups sought out shrubberies, the landmark copse of ancient, towering trees, and the tall arboreal maze. Still claustrophobic from his former nearness to the throng, Vader led the way to the giant fountain at the heart of the gardens.
A wide marble bench rested nearby, and Vader seated himself on its left end. Tamaris joined him on the other side. The silence between them was companionate, not awkward. He let it linger awhile, reveling in the serenity these gardens, like those at his Coruscanti estate, imparted to him.
After several moments, the governor said, as if reading his thoughts, "I imagine it's somewhat comforting to be back here."
"It is also rather strange," he mused. “So much remains the same, yet some things have already changed." This was a vast understatement. The gardens looked much as they always had, even from the first time he had gazed upon them with all the awe and wonder of youth; little did he then realize that they would become a refuge from too much power, wealth, and splendor observed and possessed. Years ago, he'd twice seen Leia Organa playing here, and now Alderaan and Tarkin were gone, but the gardens remained. Tarkin's former wife was back at Court, but she had changed as well, having found love and lost it in a few hours. Vader himself had been altered in a similarly brief time, learning days ago that Tarkin's executioner, the avenger of Alderaan, was the Dark Lord's son. Whole, new unexplored vistas of possibility suddenly opened before him; yet he’d come home partly for the grounding sense of security that familiarity would bring.
Ironic . Far too many ironies in his life, these days.
"Do you need to be alone?" his companion asked. "Perhaps I should have respected your earlier isolation and not sought you out." She moved as if to rise from the bench.
"No." He touched her arm. "I welcome your company, even if I do a poor job of showing it."
"I like sitting out here with you," she smiled, and he caught his breath at the expression in her eyes. Rarely had he met anyone so ready to accept him on his own terms. She had not asked what most of the curious guests assembled in his honor had. To them it was mere social pleasantry to inquire about the Death Star and Alderaan’s fates, Tarkin’s death, or why Vader’s timely return to Coruscant was cause for royal celebration. Yet those questions were in fact some of the most intensely personal ones that could be put to him.
The Dark Lord had interrogated his own motives, desires and philosophy ruthlessly of late. The revelation of Luke's existence and identity was thus only the latest reason why Darth Vader had changed profoundly in mere days – why he was a different man than he'd been prior to the deaths of Kenobi, Tarkin, and Alderaan. Not to mention how in all the hells he was supposed to explain his new concerns and preoccupations to Palpatine when their psychic link was too revealing, yet their master-student relationship more strained and dangerous than ever before.
Perhaps because Tamaris had not asked, Vader wanted to tell her some small measure of what he had discarded and discovered. Maybe it was the easy familiarity he felt in her presence although they had only known one another less than a Standard year. The Death Star had been put into operation several months after Vader had deposed the mad Governor Lionel Hardren of Bexor and put Hardren's former courtesan Tamaris in his place.
"While I was away," the Sith began, watching the fountain's interplay of splashing water and reflected lights, "I had ample time to think and meditate, and found myself contemplating many things I'd virtually forgotten." Smiling slightly behind his mask, he continued, "Several years ago I led troops to do battle on Polmara. Happily, the war never materialized because the natives' religious leaders had foreseen a massive defeat should the Polmarans fight us. The very idea was repugnant to them.
"Well," Vader went on, now focused upon Tamaris’ lovely face, "their high priest greeted me, and told me some of the most incredible things. Our mission was prompted by an apparent Polmaran refusal to allow Imperial education in their schools. But this cleric informed me that it was only Imperial history classes the Polmarans opposed. They would not resist the educational program as a whole or defy the law. It was merely that the Polmarans had long ago eliminated historical studies and even historical ways of thinking from their culture."
Tamaris' eyes went wide with surprise. "What? How?" she asked disbelievingly. "I've heard of history being revised, or texts altered for political or religious reasons, but eliminated?"
"Initially I reacted in much the same way," the Sith replied. "But the more I listened, the more I understood the reasons for it, if not the merits of the argument. Polmara had been beset by ancient bloodfeuds for centuries. Finally the priests ceased explaining the struggle to children, only stressing the horror and pointlessness of the waste. This young generation was removed from their parents' homes, kept in the monastery and grounds for years, where they learned nothing of hatred, bitterness, or past atrocities. The clerics kept historical knowledge alive as the older generations gradually died out -- only teaching it orally to one another. No written records of war existed anymore for impressionable youngsters to find. Polmaran laypeople now know virtually nothing of their violent ancestral past. Their planet is at peace, and art and science are beginning to advance once more."
"That is horrifying!" Tamaris gasped, her eyes flashing. Vader smiled wistfully behind his mask.
"At the time," he answered, "I felt similarly, although I did not care enough to oppose the leaders and resort to coercion. I believed the priests' decision incredibly arrogant, manipulative and misguided -- how could Polmarans understand the present if they knew so little about their past? The priests oppose teaching Imperial history simply because they want their youth unexposed to the notions that glory, progress, justice, prosperity or vengeance can be achieved through armed conflict, or that mere memories of long-held disagreements might lead to war. They had no more patience for the wars of the Old Republic than they did for the Imperial Revolution or the current Alliance armed resistance.
"So," Vader concluded, "I agreed to the terms and departed, having no desire to cut down passive citizens. The whole experience was so surreal that I only wanted to leave. Now the Polmarans give us their best natural resources, and we teach them mathematics, science and Standard, but few government courses and no history."
For a moment Vader lapsed into silence.
"They won't maintain this blissful ignorance forever!" Tamaris exclaimed. "As they become more advanced and have contact with other worlds, they'll soon learn about the Republican and Imperial battles."
"I'm not certain, for Polmara has been placed under official quarantine for that very reason."
She stared at him. " You did that?"
He nodded.
"Forgive me, lord, but you are one of the most historically minded beings I know."
She was right. He'd been taught the time-honored myths and disciplines of both the Jedi and the Sith, had studied Republican history first to become a responsible citizen and later to bring the government to its knees and create a new order impervious to the Republic's errors. He'd perused the history of Tamaris' planet Bexor to find the best sort of regime to install after Hardren's demise. Yet, recently pondering his own existence and what little Palpatine had told him about the ruler’s past, Vader had suddenly remembered the Polmaran clerics. Of everyone he'd encountered in his decades of public life, they had seemed most likely to create a new society. Effacing and thus transcending their collective past, they had achieved genuine peace.
"Do you approve of the Polmarans’ decision?" she asked, radiating continued distaste.
"I admire its ingenuity," the Dark Lord responded, in what was not precisely an answer. He gazed into Tamaris' eyes intently. "Think about it; a new, limitless future."
"Those people are living a lie.”
“Indeed, His Majesty said something similar.” Mild humor coated his syllables.
Tamaris made an impatient gesture, brushing off his ironic commentary. “Only truth brings real wisdom and freedom."
He thought of his son then, his own distant past, another life he'd thought put behind him forever. "But can we ever really know it?" he queried softly.
She leapt from the bench and paced passionately in front of him. "We have to struggle at it, but yes!" Tossing her long hair back from her animated features, she reminded, " You told me that facing the lessons of my past would teach me how to lead a rigidly classed, patriarchal society, and you were right. I now know that if I could rule Hardren in the bedroom, and advise him politically before he went mad, I can do anything. I've learned to draw upon both my 'feminine charms' and my determination never to be controlled, used or mocked again by any man." Then Tamaris paled suddenly, dropping her gaze as she realized the implications of her words.
The Sith rose to his booted feet to move toward her. Her alarm increased and he halted in place. "Governor," he murmured, "I am pleased by your evolution. But I am sorry that you had such lessons in your past from which to learn."
After a moment Tamaris released a deep sigh and looked up at him once more. "Ah, but those experiences, my own wars, made me strong," she maintained.
She was correct; he'd respected her resilience and will when he first met and initially disliked her. He'd gone to Bexor shortly after his sexual encounter with Kathara Tarkin, and had thus involuntarily compared the women. Both Kathara and Tamaris had endured much at the hands of men who had virtually owned but not loved them. Kathara had protected herself with passivity and detachment, Tamaris by using her consort's possessive, often abusive passions to her own advantage.
The courtesan had stayed with her partner more or less willingly, while the political wife did not. Tarkin's former mate had longed for love, and Tamaris had settled for prestige and security, and the satisfactions of being a trusted political advisor. On their first meeting, Kathara gazed at Vader in respect and trust, and Tamaris in suspicious recognition of a kindred being. If Kathara's loneliness had called echoingly to the Dark Lord's own, then Tamaris' near-defiant emotional self-sufficiency had done the same.
The governor must have sensed some of the emotions behind his scrutiny, for she stepped aside and said, "Perhaps I should go back now, before you must. If we go in at the same time, people may talk. They might have already noticed our absences." She seemed almost shy. Gauging her aura, he abruptly understood part of her complex reaction.
"Tamaris," he queried firmly, although she was not the source of his annoyance, "what did you overhear tonight?"
She shook her head. "Nothing, my lord, I --"
"Tell me," he gently interrupted.
She sighed, unable to look at him. "Some of the ladies discussed me, not knowing I could hear them. Or maybe they did."
"Go on."
"They resented having to be near 'Vader's whore'." Her voice was nearly inaudible.
He spun, but she grasped his arm. "Please don't," she urged. He'd been ready to lecture and frighten the entire ballroom of revelers -- or to tell Palpatine about the infuriating incident, which would have accomplished much the same purpose. Whatever his obscure reasons, the ruler seemed to resent Tamaris somewhat less than he did Kathara Tarkin.
"Why?" Vader demanded, still yearning to defend Tamaris' reputation. Or was it to protect his own? That second possibility startled him.
"Because I am exactly what they called me."
"No. You were a courtesan, but no longer."
She smiled in sad affection. "I will always be a courtesan. It is merely that you own my contract of service now, and that we don't..." Despite her worldliness, she broke off in embarrassment.
The Sith blinked behind his mask. "Those serpents in there certainly wouldn't know enough about the Bexoran contract system to realize that.” He shook his head. "All they know is that I gave you a crash course in Imperial politics -- not that you much needed one -- then made you leader of Bexor. They gossip simply because I am male and you female, I much imagine."
"Vader, you're almost an innocent when it comes to judging women." Her tones were protective rather than mocking, so he was more bemused than irritated.
"Fine; tell me your expert knowledge." He folded his arms expectantly across his chest.
Sitting down on the wide edge of the fountain, Tamaris began, "Women often learn better than men how to read expressions, tones, gestures and stances. Some beings call this natural female intuition, but it's learned behavior, not instinct. Most political beings are astute in the same ways, I've discovered. It's a talent that comes with living in unequal power relationships. For many women it is self-protection as well as self-promotion -- a weapon in day-to-day interactions, if you like."
"Men like Hardren surely brought yours into full bloom, then," he observed, not unkindly.
"Exactly, and the courtesan school also taught me a great deal, not all of it with the teachers' consent. We learned how women could say horrific things to one another in sweet tones and neutral words so that men didn't notice the undercurrent. To them it seemed rather innocuous conversation. I'm sure you'd notice some of it, but then most beings don't have the Force."
"This is very interesting, if unnerving. But what does it have to do with the women at Court?"
Suddenly the governor was uncomfortable again. "Please don't worry about a few vain bureaucrats' wives with nothing to do except gossip," Tamaris pled, smiling impishly. "In a way it is flattering, because they're jealous!"
"You are only trying to mollify me," he sighed wryly.
"Not at all." She was completely serious. "Haven't you walked into that ballroom, or the Throne room, or any other place in the galaxy, and felt the impact you have on most human females?"
He was astounded, more stunned than pleased. On one occasion the Emperor had, in private, made an unusually vulgar joke about enlarging the budget by pairing Vader with the wealthiest women at Court. At the time, the Dark Lord had winced at what he'd assumed was cruel humor in light of his scarred physique. Might that not be the reason for the ruler's sardonic jibe?
"My gods, I've shocked you!" Tamaris declared delightedly. "I've accomplished the seemingly impossible!"
Discomfited and nonplussed, Vader took Tamaris' cue and retreated into dark banter: "I imagine you will be even more surprised if I chide your insolence by plunging you into that fountain.”
The governor had been sitting sideways upon the fountain's circular ledge, her long gown pulled over her knees. At his words, she chuckled and scrambled to her feet so that she stood on the rim. Now they were at an eye level.
Continuing the performance of anger she did not believe in the slightest, Vader placed his hands on his hips and stood just in front of her, his boots planted wide apart.
"I can't go back inside as long as you’re standing there," she merrily observed.
"Indeed?" He didn't budge.
Tamaris stepped to one side to evade him and climb to the ground, but he moved to the left just as quickly, blocking her escape once again. He was actually enjoying this little game; it seemed he'd been deadly serious for far too long these past months.
"You're merciless!" Her wail would have been more convincing if she weren't trying to repress full-fledged laughter.
"I know."
"I surrender. What are your terms?" She grinned, her dark eyes catching the starlight.
"Tell me something amusing that happened while I was gone." He wanted to keep his formerly heavy mood at bay.
"At Court?" she asked.
"No; preferably with you."
"Hmm." She pondered a moment and then replied, "Veers asked me to wed him."
" My Veers?"
She nodded.
"Governor, is that amusing?" He was more surprised at her reaction than the proposal itself.
"I thought you would find it so." Her voice was a trifle sharp now, and Vader sought to examine its edge. Anger roiled beneath her lovely, cool exterior, and it was subtly focused on him.
He abandoned their game and stepped away. "I am sorry I was not here to give you permission. I would not have let my formal ownership of your contract stand in the way of --"
She interrupted, displaying her genuine distress. "That's not it. We thought you were dead for a few days, when he asked me." The Sith winced. Apparently she had grieved for him in a way he'd not expected. But she was still furious, and his puzzlement prevented reflexive anger from surging within his own heart.
"Why, then?" he asked quietly. "Veers would be a wonderful mate for you. For anyone .”
"He promised to cherish me, and to help protect me from anyone who tried to threaten my position because you were gone."
"Your governorship is safe if you choose to marry him. I will release you from your contract."
Tamaris hugged her arms as if she were cold and studied the heavens, shaking her head once but not answering him aloud.
Again Vader thought he comprehended her motives, and sighed at the way his words must have sounded. "Very well," he stated. "I have been insensitive. I am not like the Bexoran men who transfer their courtesans to others like so much property. I have no assumption that you need to bond with Veers or any other man. Do what will make you happy. Regardless of what you decide, I'll nullify your contract immediately." He had inherited it, for lack of a better term, upon Imperial confiscation of Hardren’s estate.
She was silent even at this, and he prodded, "Governor?"
"Do what you will, my lord." Her voice was courteous, impersonal. Alarm and annoyance rose in him simultaneously. He recognized her passive-aggression, for he used a similar style with Palpatine when he wished to lash out at his master instead. What Tamaris had said earlier about unequal power relationships made perfect sense -- yet despite Vader’s own history, he'd not hesitated to seize ownership of her services and loyalties, as Hardren had done before him. Vader had emulated the now-dead governor he'd loathed for decades, and assumed control over Tamaris as Palpatine had done over him, and Tarkin over Kathara. Yet even this did not fully explain his companion's sudden near-hatred of him, for he had just offered to release her. Had she not fully understood?
"Listen to me; I am giving you your freedom!" Self-loathing echoed in his soul, making his voice even deeper and harsher than usual. For all his soul-searching lately, why had he not seen what he’d done to Tamaris? Or had he refused to see until confronted with evidence he could not ignore?
Her only reaction was a polite murmured demurral while she stepped down from the fountain. He almost let her flee back to the Palace, but then he grasped her arm and turned her around to face him. She was trembling, her mixed, nearly primal emotions flooding over him.
"Tell me." He shook her slightly.
"You already know."
"I need to hear the words." He didn't know whether he was more enraged at her or at himself.
She shook her head.
He knew he was cruel, but he needed to be. "Governor, I order it, and I own your contract."
Her voice broke as she replied in icy near-defiance, "Yes, and you got more than you bargained for, didn't you? Did you think you could rise above everything such a contract usually entails?"
"I have never exploited you...at least not...fully." Suddenly he felt like a youth of twenty, still stumbling over euphemisms and blushing at the carnal realities of the too-jaded galactic Core.
She knew what he meant. "Exploited?" she echoed hoarsely. "No, my lord. I was used when my employers treated me as an object, someone without a mind or emotions. You have never done that, and that's what makes the rest of it so damned hard to live with. Hardren was a different story -- the only times he didn't exploit me were in bed. Then he remembered I was a real woman with sensations and needs. Sometimes a courtesan benefits most from the contract system at such times, for a someone making love to her is absolute proof that she is a person and not a bauble or a piece of property. It might not make sense to you, but that is the culture value-system I have absorbed into my thinking, into my very soul."
"I definitely should let you go." He’d had no idea how much she craved male sexual attention, or that the Bexoran courtesan-contract system had proved comforting in one respect.
To his horror, tears streamed silently down her cheeks. "Have I displeased you so much?" she whispered. "I can't alter my own past or forget the assumptions that go with it. I'm sorry."
Vader felt weary. "Every time I try to help you, I make things worse. What do you wish me to do?"
Shaking her head again, as if in despair, she sank down into the grass at his feet. For the first time Vader could recall, she looked her full thirty-one years. Somehow this only increased her beauty in his eyes. Gracefully he sat down beside her on the soft dry ground.
"It hurts me even more when you're being kind and gracious," she said, her face turned down, as she tore blades of grass out by their roots.
"Tamaris --" He reached out and stilled her fingers, which trembled in his massive grasp. He'd sampled her emotions but had so far honored her privacy by not fully gauging her thoughts. Now he began lowering his Force-shields to do just that, because her obvious sadness troubled him. He didn't understand it.
Suddenly she nodded to herself and looked up. She gazed into his eyeplates, her smoky eyes self-mocking. "All right," she laughed briefly with no real mirth. "I'll tell you, so that you can refuse and we can go back inside and wish we'd never had this conversation in the first place."
"Go on."
"I don't want you to release me from the contract."
He was relieved despite himself. "I do value you, Governor."
She ignored this, took a deep breath, and finished, "I need you to fulfil your end of it completely."
He was stunned. Now everything made sense, but it was a circumstance he'd never anticipated. In some of his lonelier moments he had lain awake considering going to her, knowing she was obliged to do anything he requested or commanded. He'd respected her too much to act on his urges. He'd also thought himself better than the men in her past.
She misunderstood his silence. "I knew this would disturb you, my lord. And you're right -- you are the second-most powerful man in the galaxy. A future ruler, and I am exactly what those women in Court called me."
"Don't say that."
"But it's true. I am not ashamed of it; don't worry. I pride myself on honesty, and I would be lying if I pretended I did not give myself to men in return for wealth, position, and security."
He was unable to bear much more of this. "Just what do you think I've done?" he challenged.
"That is different. You and the Emperor don't ..."
"No, we do not. And yes, it is different. Your way is more honest, more giving." He took both her hands in his. "But for months I was a fool not to realize that."
He had not responded to Kathara Tarkin's desire at first, sensing that she had cast him in the role of hero, the noble knight who could give her what her husband would not -- tenderness and reassurance of her own dignity. But Tamaris had always been drawn to the sides of him most beings saw every day -- his political acumen, charisma, worldliness, and sardonicism Kathara had never seen Vader on the battlefield, only at Court and in her home. Tamaris by contrast had watched her lover's regime fall by the Dark Lord's commands, had seen Vader literally toss Hardren's corpse to the vengeful Bexoran populace. Kathara, through no fault of her own, had been a pawn in Imperial power politics, while Tamaris was an active player of the game.
Governor Tarkin's ex-wife called to Vader's vulnerabilities; Governor Hardren's former consort appealed to his strengths. Perhaps that was why Palpatine seemed to approve of Tamaris. But the ruler really had little to do with Vader's current decision. The Dark Lord’s increasing periods away from the Empire and the discovery of Luke's existence taught him the futility of disregarding the truths of either past or present. Tamaris understood, accepted and mirrored what he really was, and his physical appearance would never quell the recognition-passion burning in the courtesan's blood.
Releasing her hands, Vader shifted to sit directly behind her. He traced her backbone lightly through the scarlet satin of her low-cut dress. He loved her choice of clothing -- she was a bright flame amid the more somber uniforms, clerks' robes, and feminine pastels of the Court. He despised the high-necked creams, pinks and lavenders currently the rage in the upper echelons of Core-world fashion. He loathed the hypocritical political wives who protested their matronly respectability one moment only to shed their constricting costumes in the next, trysting with lovers who were not their spouses.
The men, if possible, were even worse. The vicious gossip about Tamaris directly resulted from the depravity constantly lurking in these creatures' minds. She had been monogamously faithful to the three consecutive owners of her contract, while the courtiers bestowed their attentions upon whomever they wanted to own for the moment. Tamaris' gown proclaimed her self-acceptance, as well as setting her beauty off to perfection. By contrast, the modestly garbed functionaries in the ballroom should have been clad in gilt and transparent gauze.
She trembled beneath his touch and he drew her back against him, discovering that he had correctly assumed the narrowness of her waist. He stroked her ribs for several unhurried minutes. At first she began relaxing under his silent caresses, but this was not his objective. So he slowly widened the area his fingertips traversed to include the lower curves of her breasts.
Tamaris gasped softly and shifted in pleasurable discomfort, yearning for him to move more quickly. Her breasts hardened but he did not yet cup them in his grasp. Instead he moved his right hand down to her skirts. A moment’s more fondling revealed she wore nothing beneath her gown....
Vader felt little of her flesh through his heavy leather gloves and her dress, but he didn't need to. The temporary Force-bond he created let him experience her sensations and emotions. He stroked her and felt his own caresses simultaneously. Tamaris' breathing grew more ragged; his respirator accelerated a moment later to compensate.
She turned her head to kiss him, then swore under her breath when she remembered that she could not. The air out here was fresh, but unsterilized; Vader’s unmasking or undressing here was an unacceptable health risk. "Pull up your dress," he commanded instead, his voice barely recognizable to his own ears. Tamaris gathered the scarlet folds about her waist, and he stripped off his glove to aid his synthflesh hand's dexterity and sensitivity. Gently he ran his fingertips through the soft curls between her legs, and she pushed against his hand, urging him on to further exploration.
Finding the delicate folds of flesh he sought, Vader ran first one then two fingertips up and down their length. He resisted his desire to claim her firmly, instead measuring his actions by her physical and psychic responses. He studied her recollections of occasions when she'd known definite sexual pleasure, but not quite ecstacy. General Cidara had been too rough, and Governor Hardren too concerned with his own desires for climax and release. Neither man was unskilled, but both were incapable of reading Tamaris' wishes and reactions as the Dark Lord did.
Gradually, as her mental purring increased, Vader's caress evolved into more lingering and demanding strokes. He gasped despite himself in this exquisite mystical reminder of how it felt to be both the seducer and seduced. When he and Tamaris were unable to bear the cruel-sweet tension any longer, he slipped his fingers easily inside her. She shivered in a rampant rush of pulse and heat. Then she tried to relax once more, murmuring endearments he'd not heard whispered to him in years. For a bittersweet instant his passion was almost nostalgic.
His other hand tracing languorous patterns upon her breasts, Vader petted and probed her slowly, his synthflesh hand alternately stroking and resting motionlessly. He felt her moist throbbing softness and how it was to have one's very interior made suddenly accessible, the source of so much pain or pleasure. Loins or hands made no real difference, for just as surely as he had entered her soul's otherwise sealed and protected house of flesh, so did she hold a part of him inside her. Was it surrender or conquest to be a woman making love to a man?
Tamaris clenched her thighs tightly, her muscles straining and imprisoning his hand. Blindly, she thrust out a hand and groped almost frantically behind her back to find confirmation of the Dark Lord's desire. It was there, but he let her discover it for only a moment before he gently removed her hand. There would be ample time for that later, but he had to remain fully clothed for as long as they were outdoors.
She moaned in her throat as he continued drawing sensation from her at an exquisitely leisurely pace. Every muscle in her body was rigid, and abruptly his fingers ceased all activity. Only a few seconds elapsed, but in her mind they seemed an eternity of bright agony. She pressed her back against his chest and the sharp edges of his respirator only drove her further to the top of the precipice. Another moment passed during which she held her breath, familiar enough with her own responses to wait a moment longer. As the tension and warmth redoubled, she began fearing he would stall too long, and she would retreat from the peak rather than be thrust over the top.
"Please, my lord," she murmured, her voice cracking.
"Just a little longer." Still feeling everything she experienced, his own voice was none too steady. Releasing her breast, Vader grasped the back of her neck, gently but firmly holding her immobile. Darkness sang in his blood. Behind his mask his eyes were closed. She strained against his hands but this time he did not respond.
"You are cruel," she gasped. Perspiration trickled down the smooth valley between her shoulderblades. "Do you want to shatter me?" she demanded.
"Yes," he replied, holding her still. Her heart raced and her blood surged in rhythms perfectly synchronized to his. An unspoken cry built in his throat, mounting, as he waited....
Now.
He released her throat, covering her mouth lest she cry out and attract others’ attention. At the same instant he minutely shifted the fingers of his ungloved hand. Tamaris' tension suddenly released in wave after wave of arcing, shuddering pleasure, and he supported her nearly fainting form. Dissolving the Force-bond just in time to prevent a multiple orgasm of his own, Vader felt satisfaction, weary tenderness, and a Dark primal proprietary pleasure as her cries abated to trembling gasps. Then he properly arranged her gown once more and stroked the glossy dark tresses hanging down her back. Gradually she calmed and quieted.
After several minutes she'd recovered her normal voice: "Gods, we had better never engage in full-fledged sexual intercourse. I think it would kill me."
He chuckled softly. "No. This was so intense because you experienced everything I felt, and I felt everything you did. Our desire and sensations were thus doubled, reflected back upon themselves, so to speak."
"You can do that?"
He nodded. "It's a Force talent like telekinesis or precognition." Wry humor reverberated in his tone as he amended, "The difference is that most instructors prefer to let pupils discover it on their own. And, of course, the Jedi would rather have had no student discover it, since the dawn of the Knighthood.” He cared not to ponder those rare Sith sexual dyads in any intimate detail.
She burst out laughing. "I can imagine."
"Yes. And you can also imagine, I am sure, what the guests must be thinking about our mutual lengthy absence." Much as he would have preferred to forego the rest of the celebration, he did not wish to anger Palpatine so soon after their dangerous arguments about Alderaan’s destruction. Force knew, Luke’s existence and identity would no doubt become yet another explosive topic threatening their already tense partnership.
"You're right." Tamaris stood and brushed at her dress, smoothing the satin. Then she pressed her hands to her still faintly flushed cheeks. "Gods, how do I look?" she inquired warily.
"Ravishing." Vader rose effortlessly to his feet and redonned his gauntlet.
"You mean like I've just been ravished?" she frowned, her midnight eyes twinkling with merriment and appreciation. "Will anyone be able to tell?"
He shrugged. "You hinted that they already assume it."
The governor grew somber. "Could I hurt your reputation or career? The last thing I want --"
He interrupted gently: "If I thought you could blacken my already dire reputation, I would have never touched you -- politically or physically." His words were blunt, but she accepted them, as he'd fully anticipated. "Shall we?" Together they strolled back toward the Palace.
When they reached the veranda and the double glass doors the Dark Lord paused. "I am not certain how long I must remain at this interminable function before retiring to my chambers. After I leave, wait a half-hour, make your excuses, and join me. I look forward to you showing me some of your learned talents in the fine art of bestowing pleasure."
She shivered faintly in delight, emanating warmth and reverence. "So you and I will ..."
"Oh yes." His voice was rich with fondness and a hint of mastery. "I now expect your continuing service in every way your contract usually entails. I know you will be discreet about that fact, but should any courtiers dare make unflattering remarks about you again, you will tell me about it. Immediately.”
"You know, Vader, you've just spoiled me for any other lover I might be tempted to take -- even if you do release me from my contract. No one could hope to measure up after that. "
"Really?" he asked in dry feigned innocence, not admitting that had been his intention. He didn't have to, for Tamaris' knowing expression revealed how much she comprehended his motives. He needed the comfort and strength she would bring him in the many uncertain days ahead. "Now," he quoted her, "into the den of wild beasts."
He opened the doors and they reentered the shadowed alcove. The ballroom lights had been lowered, and the orchestra played a slow stately piece meant for couples. Across the room, Palpatine suddenly looked directly at Vader and Tamaris. The Dark Lord felt the ebbing of the ruler's initial startlement, followed by a sort of indulgent acceptance. Well, Vader mused, Tamaris was good for him; she nudged him out of gloomy alcoves both actual and mental.
"You're so graceful, my lord." The way she said his title was more suggestively possessive than deferential, and a small delicious thrill tickled his spine. "It's a shame you so seldom dance.”
"Oh? That sounds like a challenge." he replied.
"People would certainly be shocked, wouldn't they?"
"Indeed. It would seem that I came back a changed man." Placing his hand possessively on the small of Tamaris' back, Vader did not even notice Kathara Tarkin's eyes following him as he led his new mistress onto the dance floor.