Chapter Text
“So,” Vette put her feet up on the dash of the Fury, since Quinn wasn’t in the cockpit to tell her it was improper, and grinned over at Vopenir, who merely twitched her lips in response to the gesture. “What’s the deal then?” she asked. “Marriage for sith doesn’t mean the same thing as it is for the rest of us, or what?"
Vopenir’s smile widened a little and she put the datapad she’d been examining aside, facing Vette and leaning forward. “I’ll assume you’re referring to Agent Shan,” she said.
“Well yeah,” Vette made a frustrated noise. “I saw you two smooching today over near that black beach, an SIS Agent? Seriously, my lord.”
“An SIS Agent who also happens to be the son of the current Grand Master of the Jedi,” Vopenir pointed out.
“Oooooh, oh! So you’re doing this for political reasons then.” That at least, Vette could understand. That was manipulative and horrible and very, very sith.
“Partly,” Vopenir sighed, looking away and out the windows at the Rishi landscape. They’d been stuck here for days now, and while Vette had certainly been on nastier planets, she was beginning to get a little sick of pirates and weird bird people and, most of all, Revanites. “I won’t deny, however, that Agent Shan and I have a connection.”
“And Quinn doesn’t know about it?”
“Doesn’t know about what, Vette?” The captain in question had walked onto the bridge, meticulously neat in his uniform despite having spent the last few hours out in the village heat attempting to coordinate with the Imperials who had deserted the Revanite cause but were still stuck on planet.
Vopenir’s face didn’t change, exactly, but she went very still, and her voice, when she spoke, was clipped and cold.
“Does not know that Agent Shan and I are currently sleeping together, Captain. Whenever it’s convenient. Sometimes when it isn’t.”
Vette suddenly very much wanted to be anywhere else but in the same room as the two of them. Vopenir’s stillness had been matched by Quinn’s, but where she was cold, he looked trapped -- like a hunted animal.
“Indeed,” he said, voice hoarse. “I was not aware.”
Vopenir’s chin lifted and she faced her husband. “Indeed,” she said. There was a long, tense moment, where they looked at each other. Or rather, Vopenir looked at Quinn, and Quinn looked at his shoes, at the displays, at the roof -- anywhere but at his wife. Finally, Vopenir shrugged and looked back at Vette, giving her a wink. “It’s all right, Vette, I am certain he doesn’t mind.”
Vette was even more confused now. It was abundantly clear, from the brittle way Quinn shook his head, from the pain etched in lines around his eyes, that he did mind.
“It is not my place to question you, my lord,” he said.
Vette blinked. “She’s your wife,” she said.
“Vette,” Vopenir didn’t sound angry exactly, but there was a strong suggestion in that tone of voice that she not continue to question her.
“Screw this,” Vette said. “I don’t know about humans or Mirialan but it’s pretty explicitly stated in a Twi’lek marriage ceremony that you don’t go off and betray each other whenever you feel like it.”
Vopenir barked out a short, sharp laugh and Quinn winced, looking away. If Vette didn’t know better she would have sworn she saw tears in his eyes.
“Yes,” Vopenir said, and her voice was triumphant. “My people hold the same view.”
“My lord,” Quinn’s voice was strained, pleading.
“Is it an appropriate time, do you think, Malavai, to explain to the crew the nature of betrayal?”
He shut his eyes, fists clenched. “Please,” he whispered, and Vopenir, to Vette’s horror, started to laugh.
It was a low laugh, deep and rueful, with very little humanity in it. Vette, who had, before Corellia, known her lord to laugh with the freedom and openness of a young girl, was nauseated by it.
“You sound like a sith,” Vette said, getting to her feet. “You sound like Baras.” Vopenir’s head whipped round and she fixed Vette with a smouldering glare.
“Have a care, Vette,” she said.
“My lord,” Quinn came forward, laying a hand on Vopenir’s shoulder. “Do not. She does not understand.”
“You’re damned right I don’t,” Vette said. “You two are creepy and weird and you probably deserve each other. I’m going.”
“No,” Quinn took a deep breath. “No, Vette. It is probably time you did understand.”
Vopenir’s snarl died on her lips and she looked up at Quinn, surprised. “Really, Quinn?” she said.
Quinn swallowed. Raised a hand to his collar and adjusted it, then swallowed.
“Yes, my lord,” he said. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to gather the rest of the crew.”