Chapter Text
She refused.
The Grand Admiral wasn’t surprised. Indeed, if he had a choice, he’d refuse too.
“I am afraid it was not a request, Zapheri.”
Her time away from the Empire had left her extremely rebellious and the nature of her insubordination wasn’t entirely surprising – the woman had always been outspoken and short-tempered - but it was the new severity of her disobedience that would end her.
It would end them both if someone were to find out. Anyone interested in Thrawn’s aide-de-camp – or rather, former aide-de-camp - would be less likely to find out that the infamous Malastaja was alive and well and working for an Imperial Grand Admiral if Teela Zapheri would just stay close to him. He could protect her.
But she refused.
“I’m not going.” Her lips curled in defiance as she lifted her chin.
Thrawn’s eyes narrowed as he steepled his fingers together over his desk. He found it was best to ignore her when she was like this. “I will have the concierge from Lothal contact you but you are not - ”
Her mouth slackened and her brown eyes widened in disbelief. “You apparently didn’t hear me.” Teela snapped. “I’m not going!”
The Chiss continued speaking, ignoring her petulant outburst “ – to go down to the planet, a tailor droid will be sent instead.”
Zapheri slammed her hand down on his desk. “Ngeke! Futhi ungeke wangenza!” {I will not! And you cannot make me! – Sy Bisti}
The Grand Admiral slowly leaned back into his chair, the skin around his eyes tightened as he glared up at her. “Be very very careful Zapheri.” He whispered. “Or you will find yourself back in the detention block.”
“Hamba uyozifuqa!” {Go fuck yourself – Sy Bisti}
Thrawn slammed the staff down, but the droid pivoted, nearly sweeping his leg out from under him as the thing skirted away before he could correct himself. He cursed in Cheunh, infuriated over his lack of focus.
It was pointless to continue, he would get little benefit from the activity. The whole point was to take his mind off his frustratingly defiant former lover; to syphon his anger and disappointment so they could be in the same room together without him wanting to…
To what?
He barked out the command override code and inhaled deeply.
He knew, when he orchestrated her return, she wouldn’t run into his arms and his bed immediately. Although, if he were being honest, he’d hoped for an intimate reunion, but he wasn’t expecting such…
Anger? Defiance?
She is a rebel, after all.
No, it wasn’t surprising that Zapheri was being disobedient, but her behavior was bordering on…
Treason?
She is a rebel, after all.
No, not anymore. He shook his head as he fastened his belt. Teela was his and she would stay that way, whether she liked it or not. He would keep her safe.
Zapheri sat on the cool floor of what was known as, at least in her own mind, the “Teela Trap” - her own personal cell in the Chimaera’s detention block. The Grand Admiral always placed her in the same block, the one nearest the turbolift that would lead up to his office.
For his convenience, no doubt.
Bastard.
There was no point in cursing, he couldn’t hear her. She could pace and pound her fists on the wall, but that would only tire her, and it would probably amuse him if he happened to watch her antics via the holo-feed. The unenthusiastic Second Lieutenant of the Imperial Corp of Engineers and former aide-de-camp of Grand Admiral Thrawn wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.
Zapheri quietly stewed over her isolation. The whole point of this exercise was what, really?
To survive long enough to get the hell out of Imperial service before someone besides Thrawn found out she was a Rebel? Escape so she could go back to Gibuli and her adopted family?
And then what?
While contemplating her path forward, she propped herself up against the cold wall and soon found herself dozing, eventually slouching, and curling up for warmth. It was in this way he found her; her arms wrapped around herself, legs brought up to her torso and her eyes closed, oblivious to his gaze.
He cleared his throat, causing her to groan and open one eye in annoyance, that is until she saw who it was Thrawn had sent to fetch her.
“Ms. Zapheri?” Alexsandr Kallus stood rigidly staring down at her. “The Grand Admiral requests your presence.”
Teela groaned as she pulled herself up and snorted at the ISB agent. “Oh, he ‘requests my presence’, does he?” she mimicked his Coruscanti accent perfectly and rolled her eyes. “Tell him to stir bantha shit.”
Kallus’s face remained expressionless, but she could feel his muscles tense as she stood and strode past him. “Zapheri?”
“Don’t worry, Agent Kallus, I wouldn’t think to get you into trouble. I’m heading to his office now.”
“I was told to escort you there, ma’am. Personally.”
“Don’t call me ma’am.” She snapped irritably.
For all his annoying habits the man was apparently a fast learner because he didn’t respond with the average Imperial’s knee-jerk ‘yes, ma’am’. Instead, he simply nodded.
As they entered the turbolift and Kallus keyed it to ascend the nearly thirty decks separating them from what would likely be an irritated Grand Admiral, the ISB agent turned to the mysterious woman next to him. “I understand you will be going to the Governor’s Ball?”
Zapheri clicked her tongue and rolled her head back in bewilderment, sending a brief glare at the man. “I first heard about the event this morning and I already can’t wait for it to be done and over with!”
“And why is that?”
He was watching her now without the fear of his contemplation being misconstrued as nosy or distrustful of Thrawn’s long-lost aide. Alexsandr Kallus seemed genuinely intrigued.
“I hate social functions.” She growled.
“How’s that when you grew up among the Coruscanti elite?”
Teela felt her ire flare up and she really didn’t want to be pre-disposed to murder before seeing her boss. “Call it a personal preference, Agent.”
Thankfully Kallus took that as a given data point and nodding knowingly. “I too dislike such events.”
An awkward silence followed his statement, and she couldn’t help but side-eye him. Zapheri found him eyeing her skeptically with a minute smirk. She wrinkled her nose and made an unflattering face which prompted him to laugh heartily.
“You know, Zapheri, if you insist on being so miserable, I could offer to escort you so we might be miserable together.”
“You could.” She said slowly as the turbolift doors slide open. “But I’d see right through that.”
“Oh?” He followed her as she stepped out before him and quickly caught up to her. “And what would my primary motivation be in escorting you to the Governor’s Ball?”
She didn’t answer immediately, instead waiting until they reached the corridor where Thrawn’s office was. “You’re an ISB operative, Kallus. You want what all spies want.”
“Respect, admiration, and a beautiful woman by my side?” He arched his eyebrows devilishly at her.
Teela looked quizzically at him, “Now you’re just talking nonsense. I thought the ISB screened out the ones with the delusional personalities?”
He laughed once and shrugged. “The offer stands. I’m always willing to help a fellow spy.” He grinned widely and Zapheri wasn’t quite sure if the statement was made in jest or if there was some underlying threat seeded in the joke.
“Thanks.” She smiled sarcastically, her voice dripping with mock gratitude.
As they approached Thrawn’s office, Kallus gave one last little chuckle. “Well, good luck, Zapheri. My understanding from Commodore Faro is he’s particularly –“ he cocked his head and ran his hand through his beard thoughtfully “ – how did she put it? Ah yes, he’s particularly ‘short’ today.”
Great.
The guard at the door informed him she arrived, and he approved her entry, but of course Teela being Teela only came far enough into the foyer to avoid getting pinched by the door behind her. She stood glaring at the Chiss seated at his desk inside the main office.
“I assure you, acting like a sullen child will not help, Zapheri.”
Her response wasn’t verbal. She crossed her arms over her chest, pursed her lips and cocked her head at him – a blatant dare. Teela was lobbing a challenge his way by the set of her lips and angle of her chin, goading him to action. It had him standing and striding toward her - not quickly or threateningly but purposefully as if he knew exactly how the impending confrontation would transpire, and confident knowing he would ultimately win.
He approached her but had not yet entered into her personal space. The Grand Admiral was an imposing figure and if it hadn’t been for the fact they had known each other for over a decade, she might have been mildly intimidated by his approach. Thrawn considered that for a moment as he studied the defiant set of her jaw.
Perhaps there in lay the problem.
She feared for him. She was not afraid of him even though she was the Rebel and he the Imperial.
That needed to change…for her sake.
“You will go with me to the Governor’s Ball.”
The voice he used was rich with command, but Zapheri was ready for it and knew he’d use it on her.
She shook her head, “No, thank you.”
“As I said before, Zapheri, it is not a request, and you are technically no longer a civilian.”
“Then find a civilian and leave me alone.” She snapped.
Thrawn inhaled deeply, centering himself.
“I requested Lothal’s best concierge service provide one of their tailor droids. It is awaiting you in the dojo where you may have privacy to try - ”
She interrupted him with a loud exasperated sound, punctuated by what was most definitely a curse in a language that, if Thrawn had to guess was Omwatese.
“I assure you the concierge service comes highly recommended by Governor Pryce.”
He knew he was twisting the knife, but her facial expression upon hearing that she was required to partake in something because Arihnda Pryce had approved it, left his office feeling much cooler. The temperature in the room dropped by ten degrees just by invoking the Governor’s name. It was quite comfortable. At least for him.
The woman blinked slowly in astonishment, her lips moving soundlessly as she stared at him. Zapheri’s body was automatically shifted into a defensive stance; head lowered, fists clenched and that right shoulder of hers had dropped slightly – as it always did during hand-to-hand combat.
The Admiral couldn’t help but smile slightly.
“Wipe that smirk off your face or I will do it for you.” Teela hissed at him in Sy Bisti.
“Try.”
That was apparently all it took to get Teela Zapheri into the dojo, out of her clothes and trying on dresses.
The little tailor droid fluttered around nervously watching as the two humanoids attempted to – quite literally, it seemed - kill each other. Really, what else could they be doing? They certainly weren’t mating! They were completely clothed!
The Grand Admiral had harshly ordered the droid to exit the dojo and as the little robot zipped out fearfully, Teela Zapheri – the woman who was supposed to be sampling fabrics and assessing dress styles – was screaming in some strange language and attempting to punch the alien in the face and torso.
She must have had a spurious malfunction in her logic circuits because as the droid peaked out from behind the door to watch the angry duo, the Admiral was able to capture one of Zapheri’s high kicks and pull her toward him. Despite taking a fist to the face, the Chiss quickly managed to subdue her second swing before she battered his ribs. He spun her around, put her in a full body hold and spoke softly into her ear as if trying to calm a deranged animal.
“Kuyadingeka obudingekayo.” He murmured. “Zama ingubo, Zapheri.” {This is a necessary evil.} {Try on a dress, Zapheri.}
“Ufuna ingubo kabi ungayigqoka, ingquza!” {You want a dress so badly you wear it, asshole!}
Thrawn hissed at her as he pressed his face up against her neck causing her to instinctively go still. “I will make this very simple then. You either try on a dress, find one you like, charge it to the appropriate account as an expenditure required for your position as my guest or – “ he pulled her even closer making her gasp “ngizokutholela ingubo bese ngikwenza uzame.” {I will find a dress for you and make you try it on. – Sy Bisti}
She shivered at not just the sound of his voice but at the movement of his lips, mere millimeters away from her skin. If Teela moved just right, his mouth would be on her neck, at her throat, nipping at the shell of her ear. Whether he recognized the effect he was having on her wasn’t entirely clear because he didn’t let her go immediately.
“I trust I make myself clear?”
He stayed long enough to watch her shrug off her over tunic, glaring at him from over her shoulder as she did. The scars from Reamus’s whip were a reminder that she had every right to be angry. The intoxicating scent of moonflower was a conflicting sensory stimulant; a reminder that he needed to be very cautious lest he lose himself in the past.
The Grand Admiral made his way back into his office and sat down heavily in his chair noting the stiffness in his groin and the ache in his chest. It had nothing to do with Teela trying to physically attack him…or maybe it did. It was the closest thing they had to intimacy since her return.
Thrawn looked down at himself and noted the bulge in his lap. He shifted uncomfortably and tried to quiet his dark thought.
Yes, she was angry with the Empire. She had a legitimate reason to be. But he was not the Empire and they had endured much over the years together.
Of course, upon his elevation to Grand Admiral their relationship had entered a new dimension. She’d given him a single night before she left to work on Star Dust, her hope being to gather information for him. She had given and given, and he had gladly taken - her expertise, her perfect memory, her developing skills as a spy, her friendship, her love and then finally her body.
And there had been no remorse.
But now, the memory of her on that night made the ache even worse and the terrible loss of her and what they’d had turned him hollow inside. Her “death” aboard the Accordance had left him shattered.
No one knew of course. To everyone besides, perhaps the primary bridge crew, and Wullf Yularen, Grand Admiral Thrawn was just as cold and clinical as ever.
He stopped having dreams of her. She wouldn’t materialize from his imagination to sit at his bedside and scold him for his poor decisions while he slept fitfully in the night. All memories of her, especially their most intimate moments were buried - her laugh, her scent, her taste…gone.
The Chiss was consumed by his grief and rage, hiding behind his rank.
Faro saw, which was probably why she approved Lomar’s idea to find old holos of Teela – taken at various times, by various officers and crewers aboard the ship. The Senior Lieutenant even tracked down some images from her time aboard the Thunder Wasp. He presented the tokens in a collection to the entire crew believing that they – especially the Chiss Admiral - would be thankful for the reminder of the gaping void where Teela Zapheri had once been.
Thrawn vowed upon listening to various crew members reminisce while watching images of the woman he loved flick by that he would never be content with another being…and when he saw her in that village plaza, shrouded in her own grief and rage he realized he wouldn’t have to live with the burden of that vow.
Or so he thought.
She wouldn’t get close enough for him to touch her. She seemed to grow uncomfortable in his presence when there was even the prospect of them being alone together, as if she no longer trusted him.
He sighed heavily and shifted in his seat, looking up in time to see her dart out of the dojo and head toward the door of his office like she set the place on fire and was making her escape.
“Did you find something?”
She casually flung a “no” over her shoulder as she stormed out. The Admiral was half out of his chair, prepared to signal his door guard to detain her but the tailor droid rolled into the office. Droids inherently did not have emotional features, but the Chiss thought for sure, if this particular one was able to readily modify its expression, it’s current one would be of aghast horror.
“Sir, your former aide-de-camp has a terrible temper, I’m afraid.”
“I am aware.” Thrawn murmured dryly as he sat back down, eyeing his comm and wondering how fast Teela could get down to her quarters before his stormtroopers could intercept her.
“She has such – “ The droid wobbled and moved its various arms. “ – vulgar language.”
“I am aware of that as well.”
“How is it that she will be going to the Governor’s Ball when she is obviously so – “
The Grand Admiral stood again, his intimidating form silencing the machine. “Do you have what you require or will my stormtroopers need to apprehend her for further measurements?”
“Oh!” The thing seemed to almost gasp at the idea of weaponry being applied while attempting to make clothing – it was something the droid’s master tailor had never programed him for, but the man was very old. “No, sir. That won’t be necessary. However, I must warn you, she did go against my advice.”
“Which was?” He asked with mild interest. Zapheri usually wasn’t one to take council – she would give it, generally in sharp words or by way of a blaster bolt.
“I suggested she wear a lighter color dress with thin straps and a loose bodice, as they are fashionable on Coruscant, according to my programming.”
Thrawn felt himself smile tightly.
Her rebellion would be to her disadvantage.
Naturally she wore black.
Long sleeved, high collared and form fitting; the dress wasn’t unfashionable, but it wasn’t in vogue per the current Imperial fashion experts.
If she were still on Coruscant she’d be inundated with such nonsense constantly – who was the best dressed, who was sheeting who, who was caught talking to someone they shouldn’t have, and other mind-numbing absurdities.
All the while the Empire destroyed lives, and she could do nothing now; a caged bird just trying to avoid the predator before being released back into the wild. It was another reason to wear the dress. Curious and admiring eyes could see more than just a Grand Admiral’s aide.
No, her shield from daily tyranny, as tiny as it was; her small act of defiance was to wear black when the rest of them wore beige.
Or white, she mentally corrected.
The poor droid had scolded her, insisting that dresses had become shorter – calf length - now. Hers was long, hiding her ankles even with heels when she stood rigidly waiting for her employer near the shuttle in the Chimaera’s hanger bay.
A slight shift of her legs would reveal the slits running to her mid-thigh on both legs; a turn of her shoulder or arch of her back would show the small ornamental black beads that trailed down her spine, starting at the nape of her neck and ending at her tailbone.
It would have been slightly daring for Sia Boa given the atmosphere and the company in which the wearer of such a dress would be emersed in. For Teela Zapheri it was scandalous, and it was her not-so-subtle way of telling the Governor’s faux Coruscanti clique, they would fornicate with an oversized bantha before she’d care about their opinions.
The weapon holster she strapped high up to the inside of her thigh, perfect for sheathing a knife or stowing a tiny blaster, that is if she kept her stride slight and purposeful to avoid exposure from the dress’s side slit, was also her way of telling the Grand Admiral to kriff off. The holster was black and decorative – something she’d used discreetly under a dress several times previously - ironically matching this dress perfectly. It would go unused however – no one would be allowing her a weapon. Teela would still wear it.
For spite.
She hissed in frustration at Thrawn’s tardiness while she pulled at one of her earrings, its beaded pattern mimicking that of her dress. The Chiss was never late for anything. If anything, he was obnoxiously early.
Zapheri had been twenty-three minutes late (purposefully) but the Grand Admiral was now seventeen minutes behind her. She poked absently at the tight braids that had been wrapped into an elegant bun at the back of her head. It was a difficult design, “something for formal occasions”, that Alyn had taught her when she was young. Teela didn’t like it. Not for lack of comfort or aesthetics (it wasn’t like she could see the damn thing since it was on the back of her head) but rather due to the situational need for it.
She sighed in irritation, “Thrawn, uyinhlungu ku – “ {Thrawn, you are a pain in my - }
Her grumbled rant was interrupted.
“Uma uphikelela ekubeni nenhlamba – “ The Chiss was looking down at his datapad absently when he moved out from behind several nearby storage boxes, he glanced up and stopped looking mildly bewildered. “ – Ngizokuhlalisa ethekwini elingezansi namasosha.” {If you insist on being vulgar - } {I will have you sit in the lower bay of the shuttle with the stormtroopers.}
She crossed her arms over her chest. “That will be fine with me. I’d prefer that even.”
The Grand Admiral stood holding his datapad loosely and staring at her strangely. “Leyo yingubo oyikhethayo?” {That is the dress you chose?}
Teela stepped forward and turned her right leg out slightly, allowing the black fabric to brush her inner thigh; she smiled smugly at him. “I found it to be the antithesis of everything that is currently fashionable.”
“Did you, now?” Thrawn seemed amused as he looked her up and down.
She cocked her head and shot him a venomous look. “What?”
“It is very – “ He paused and seemed to ponder on his words. “ – ukubanjwa kombono.” The last was spoken with a hint of inquiry as if he didn’t know how to appropriately articulate the thought.
She made a face. “Eye catching?”
The Grand Admiral nodded. “Yes. Thank you. It is very eye catching.”
Zapheri wrinkled her nose in disagreement. “It’s subtle and not what every other woman will be wearing.”
“Exactly.” The Chiss smirked causing her to shift uncomfortably and realize her mistake too late.
He wanted her to attract attention, wanted her to stand-out in a crowd. Teela Zapheri would get into less trouble if there were more people watching.
“I am happy you are early.” Thrawn nodded to her, interrupting her thoughts.
“Early?” She scoffed. “You’re the one who’s late!”
“We are to leave the Chimaera at 1800.” The Chiss replied matter-of-factly as he ascended the ramp to the shuttle.
He suddenly heard the sound of her progression - the click, click, click of her shoes - up the ramp, stop. “Eighteen hundred hours? You told me seventeen hundred!”
“I know.”
The Governor did not keep a residence on Lothal outside of the Imperial dome. However, adjustments had been made for her and her accommodations were neither rough nor drab. She had an affinity toward tamed recycled designs hidden behind a high price tag and a name. They were subtle in shape but bold in color - everything her planet was not.
Fascinating.
Distasteful but fascinating.
Zapheri grumbled something unintelligible as they were greeted in the massive entry by a droid. They had not been allowed to linger in Arihnda Pryce’s living space long as the machine ushered them through. It was probably a good thing, he didn’t trust Teela not to do something truly diabolical and fit for her sense of humor while there. But the possible motivation for such a route was confusing. Perhaps it was to show the Governor’s guests her opulent space or at least the hideous chaise wrapped in Loth cat print.
“Damn.” Zapheri groaned.
“I know.” Thrawn growled.
“Ngakhoke ungangivumela ngimbulale manje?” {So will you let me kill her now? – Sy Bisti}
He looked sharply down at her, but she smiled innocently and raised her eyebrows at him. “For crimes against art?”
“Cha.” He sighed, his lips quirking up. “Kunesisusa esingingi futhi ithuba alanele.” {No} {There is too much motive and not enough opportunity. – Sy Bisti}
She was still trying to stifle her laughter when they entered the makeshift “ballroom” – one of several hubs on each level of the dome used for massive indoor training exercises or large meetings.
“Shaya bantha eceleni!” {Fuck a bantha sideways! – Sy Bisti}
He clamped down on his annoyance. It was going to be a long night.
All eyes traveled to the Grand Admiral as he entered, regal and dressed in white. Of course, there was the woman behind him too. Arihnda suppressed a sneer, making her smile currently aimed at Lord Vanth Tyvol of Ralltiir, turn brittle.
“Ah, I see the alien is here.” Tyvol growled in disgust as he followed the Governor’s gaze, quickly letting his eyes stray from the unsightly image of the Chiss officer. He motioned for his aide, a silent pale man in black to grab him another drink from one of the service droids.
“And that alien is your superior officer, Commodore.” Arihnda snarled in response.
“Indeed.” The man murmured flatly, apparently uninspired to offer up something conciliatory-sounding, he suddenly seemed surprisingly uninterested in the non-human – a significant thing, given that COMPNOR had been the Tyvol family’s brainchild. “Who is that?”
The Governor cringed. She knew even without looking, who the man was asking about.
“That – “ Pryce growled. “ – is Teela Zapheri.”
“The scholar or the one everyone cried over because she was killed by Rebels?” he glanced down at her and then quickly back over at the other woman as if she might dematerialize without him getting a better look at her.
“Both.” Her hatred for the woman seemed to seep into her voice, prompting a small frown from the Commodore who had motioned his aide away upon taking the expensive drink from his hand.
“Well, she looks very much alive.”
Arihnda hummed noncommittally.
“Tell me, Governor.” Tyvol leaned in to look at her, smiling. “What do you know about her?”
She felt her eyebrows arch quizzically at him, her tone became teasing. “Were you hoping for something salacious?”
He shrugged slightly. “Does she have a lover?”
Arihnda chuckled heartily. “Oh, I have my strong suspicions.”
It was the Commodore’s turn to look at her with amused interest. “Go on.”
She leaned in and seductively lowered her voice. “What if I were to tell you, that she spreads her legs for the Grand Admiral?”
Tyvol immediately arched back in disgust, his face contorted in horror. “No!” he gasped and turned to look dismayed at the Chiss with the beautiful woman following obediently behind him.
So selective for a man rumored to have sheeted a dozen Firnili Priestesses, Arihnda thought.
“I’m afraid so.”
“How can you be so sure?” The man seemed absolutely demoralized, making the Governor almost giddy. She really needed a good time in the sheets and the gossip indicated that Tyvol was quite skilled, but in those rare cases he heard ‘no’ he’d conveniently fail to understand its meaning.
“I have my sources.” Pryce crooned.
Tyvol continued to stare at Zapheri, his eyes sparkled as a smile pulled at his mouth. “Governor?”
She pursed her lips together, liking very much how her title sounded coming from Vanth Tyvol. “Yes, my Lord?”
“What are the odds of that savage Thrawn letting me within arm’s reach of her?”
She glared at him as his half smile slowly widened.
Arihnda mentally cursed.
So much for a good sheet with one of the Empire’s most eligible bachelors.
Governor Pryce would find some other way to seek pleasure. If it wasn’t via physical indulgence, she’d find it by inflicting pain on other people and the first on her list to hurt was walking toward her, right behind an Imperial Grand Admiral.
After years of teaching the Chiss how to maneuver through Imperial society, Teela noted he rarely made a mistake or social faux pas. There would be awkward moments and gaffes, but those were strategic and planned, used by Thrawn’s tactical mind to toy with whomever was in the vicinity.
He toyed with everyone. Especially her.
Zapheri glowered out at the decadence and frivolous display of power – Arihnda Pryce obviously had important friends.
No, these people didn’t have friends, she reminded herself. They had transactions.
The Grand Admiral’s voice resonated over the live band with a single vocalist, a soulful tenor that would have been pleasing to listen to if she had actually wanted to be there. “Governor Pryce.” Thrawn dipped his head in an abbreviated bowed. “I am honored.”
“Thank you for coming Grand Admiral.” The woman’s cold smile didn’t touch her eyes and she had used liberal amounts of concealer to hide the scar Malastaja had given her. “I see you brought Scholar Zapheri as well.”
Thrawn stiffened and turned. Teela looked from the Governor to the Chiss and then back to the expectant woman in front of her. “Thank you, Governor. I’m – “ She felt her face pinch with aversion to the lie. “ – happy to be here.”
“I’m so glad, Miss Zapheri.”
Yeah, I bet you are.
“Governor, is Ursa Palas here?” Teela asked without preamble.
Arihnda frowned, shooting her a disbelieving look. “No, I decided I didn’t require an aide for this event.”
Teela’s brow arched and she let her shoulders slump, muttering just loud enough to be heard. “Too bad. I was going to teach her the drinking game I learned.”
The Governor laughed politely to cover up her shock at Teela’s uncouth behavior as a Commodore approached with a pallid, sour-looking man following him.
“What are you doing?” Thrawn leaned slightly toward her and asked through barely moving lips.
“I was going to bury my head in the punch bowl and not come up for air until you get me the hell out of here.” She smiled sweetly at him, her Sy Bisti coming out succinct and staccato.
“I will not have this conversation with you again, Zapheri.” The Chiss murmured lowly in Basic, pinning her with his eyes.
Teela pursed her lips and stepped closer to him, keeping her eyes on his. “Uyazisola ngesinqumo sakho sokungikhapha.” {Are you regretting your decision to drag me along? – Sy Bisti}
“If there are regrettable decisions tonight, they will be yours, not mine.”
Someone cleared their throat, politely albeit strategically requesting attention to either break up the tension between Thrawn and his plus one, or to pontificate with the Grand Admiral. He swung those piercing red eyes toward the man and stared at him expressionlessly, not bothering to hide his ill-humor.
A moment of awkward silence fell on the group, until Arihnda stepped in.
“Grand Admiral, I don’t believe you’ve met Lord Tyvol.”
“I have not.” The Chiss nodded easing himself out of some of his rigidity.
The man – Lord Tyvol – smiled stiffly and bowed. “It’s an honor, Grand Admiral. I’ve heard about your work here on Lothal.”
“Which work would you be referring to, Commodore?”
Teela pursed her lips and tried to look nonplussed over Thrawn’s lack of social graces. He apparently had his reasons for poking at the other Imperial.
Tyvol blinked, his smile slipping slightly. “Your work to eliminate the Rebel threat, for sure!”
“Yes.”
There was another pregnant pause, until the Commodore’s eyes flicked over to Zapheri. “I do not believe we’ve met either.”
She smiled softly. “Teela Zapheri.”
“I have heard so much about you, Teela. I’m Lord Vanth Tyvol of Ralltiir, at your service.” The man’s charming smile was back, and she saw Thrawn inhale deeply from the corner of her eye, heard the unguarded grunt of derision.
If Tyvol was going to piss him off with his chivalry, then she might as well take advantage of the opportunity to vex an Imperial Grand Admiral. She was a rebel after all.
“A pleasure, Lord Tyvol.”
Her eyes shifted over the Commodore’s shoulder to the quietly miserable human behind him.
“Ah oh uh – “ Tyvol scowled, looking slightly taken aback. “ – this is Rahvin, he’s my – “ he cleared his throat. “ – aide.”
She dipped her head slightly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Rahvin blinked in surprise and bobbed his head jerkily.
“Rahvin, would you please get Scholar Zapheri and I a glass of the Governor’s best Alderaanian white.” Tyvol smiled warmly at Teela. “And then you are free to have the evening to yourself.”
The implication was clear and Zapheri couldn’t help but blush. The interaction prompted, a response not just from the Chiss but from the Governor too.
If Arihnda wasn’t going to get a good romp in the sheets, then Thrawn wasn’t going to either. She would use Tyvol’s obvious infatuation and Zapheri’s mild interest as a vehicle to drive a wedge between the Grand Admiral and his closest friend and ally. By fueling the alien’s jealousy - and it was oh, so very obvious he was possessive when it came to his aide-de-camp – Arihnda could advance her agenda.
Thrawn was still too dangerous without chains.
She was everything he hoped she’d be. Beautiful. Smart. Charming.
Tyvol didn’t care if she’d been with an alien. He wanted to sheet her, not marry her. And more than that he wanted that alien to know he was going to sheet her.
He would’ve had to be dumb and blind not to have seen Thrawn’s reaction when he introduced himself to Teela Zapheri. It was a heady thing to watch a Grand Admiral squirm.
Yes, you, disgusting freak of nature. Watch as I take what is yours and make it my own.
She turned slightly to gaze out at the make-shift ballroom, and he took the opportunity to admire her figure. The way her right leg was angled – turned in slightly, gracefully at rest – and the way her dress was cut allowed him to see the inside of her thigh.
He smirked wondering if the alien was even able to pleasure her at all. The freak probably had some sort of strange spiky appendage. Hell, some aliens killed their sexual partners while performing the act. It was disgusting!
Zapheri turned back toward him, flashing him a quizzical smile. “What?”
“Oh, nothing my dear, just thinking about my future plans.”
Her lips thinned and her eyes danced playfully. “Which are?”
Tyvol used his glass of Alderaanian champagne to hide his wolfish grin.