Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’m getting married”, Leida announced to the room. The words—those buoyant, happy words—floated out of her, filling the cool, perfumed air. They sounded different coming out of her mouth than she’d imagined they would, as she’d practiced saying them under her breath a dozen times over. 

The moment the news left her lips, the entire room—quiet as sleep before now—started to stir with excitement.

“Married ?” Naiko, sitting higher behind her on a cushioned seat, running her fingers thickly through Leida’s hair as she combed it, gasped in surprise. She was the type of girl who only seemed to speak after someone else had already spoken, and rarely ever said anything witty or funny. Her words were almost always an echo of someone else’s, and on the occasions that she did tack an original thought onto the end of a sentence, it was usually never anything creative. “Leida, that’s wonderful.”

“Who is he?” Teeva asked, in reference to Leida’s betrothed, climbing over the back of the sofa to get closer to the conversation. Teeva lived and breathed gossip, and judging from the way her eyes lit up at the news, Leida was sure she would have all of Coruscant know about this within days. Which Leida didn’t really mind. 

Esha, who wasn’t very bright, added, “Is he Chandrilian?”

“Don’t be slow, Esha. Of course he is. House Mothma would never settle for less.” Tam, who knelt on the floor, cut her off, throwing a look in Esha’s direction that made the other girl shrink down in embarrassment. For Leida, looking at Tam was like looking in a mirror. She knew peer-maids were selected based on many things, including appearance, but it still surprised her. The two of them looked so alike that they could’ve been twins, if it were not for the small details that gave it away: Tam was taller, freckled, and sharp-tongued.

Esha seemed saddened by Tam’s insult, and Rin–who despite her role as Leida’s peer-maid was more of a friend to Esha than to Leida herself–placed a sympathetic hand on the simple girl’s shoulder. She offered, trying to change the topic, “Have you met him yet?”

Teeva reached out to Leida, placing her hand on the cushions between them; a bridge, a line of questioning. “You must tell us everything.”

Several girlish voices agreed, all through the room. Yes, Leida, tell us.

Leida could feel excitement bubble up inside her chest, along with a growing sense of pride, and something that felt like vindication. This was the reaction she had been expecting to get: Joy! She was getting married!

It made her want to laugh at the way her mother had delivered the news to her. She’d said it, tight-lipped, rehearsed, as though she were announcing Leida’s funeral. No joy in that at all. But then again, Leida thought, why should it matter, what her mother thought of this? She was always too preoccupied with other things to care about Leida anyway. Honestly. She couldn’t even try to be happy for her. She made it seem like this was all a huge mistake.

But her mother was wrong. A wedding was always good news. Leida had never really thought of it that way before–she’d never thought of marriage much until recently–but a wedding meant something. People said marriage was a union, an exchange, a furthering of a tradition. All words that sounded good, because they felt important. It made her feel important, like she was a part of something greater. The idea of marriage formed a picture, one that held Leida at the center of it. She liked the idea that this would be something she would have complete say over, and nobody–not even her mother–could tell her what to think of it, because it was her marriage. Her life. Hers.

She was getting married, and no one could do anything about it.

Feeling very pleased with herself, Leida straightened in her seat, taking a deep breath before she began talking. She could feel all eyes on her, and the other girls listed towards her like planets drawn towards the sun.

“His name is Stekan Sculden”, Leida said. “He’s my age. I haven’t met him yet, but Mother says he’s interested in me.”

“Sculden ?” Teeva spoke. “I’ve heard that name before. I think they’re quite a wealthy family.”

That earned some coos of excitement from all the girls.

Tam lobbed another insult in Esha’s direction. “See, Esha? I told you. Nothing but the best for Mothma.” Esha gave no reply.

“Do we have any way of knowing what he looks like?” Rin asked, cutting straight through the details, overly practical, like she had a tendency to be.

Naiko volunteered, dragging the comb in her hands through Leida’s hair, “He sounds charming. I’m sure he’s perfect for you, Leida.”

“I think so too”, Teeva said, and then added, “Oh, Leida, you have to tell us when you finally meet him.”

Rin pressed on, “What do you think he’ll be like? Do you think he’ll be handsome?”

“It’d be nice if he’s kind”, Esha managed, her voice still timid with embarrassment.

Teeva offered, “Or smart.”

“Or a good dancer”, said Naiko.

Tam trumped them all: “But whatever the case is, he’ll definitely be rich. And Chandrilan.”

That earned some quiet laughter from the girls.

Rin, however, was still hung up on something. “Leida”, she asked, addressing her friend directly, “If you don’t actually know anything about this boy, what happens if you do finally meet him and he’s nothing like you want him to be?”

The entire room turned and looked at her as though she had just broken something very expensive that someone else owned. This would not be the first time Rin’s bluntness had gotten her into trouble, although it was the first time it had happened at Leida’s expense.

Leida tried to keep a smile on her face. Mostly to disguise the fact that the insult had offended her, but also to distract from the reality that she actually hadn’t thought that far ahead. She hadn’t considered the scenario where this turned out to be anything less than perfect. Because why would she? It was Rin who was being cynical here. Leida just wanted a good thing for herself. Was that so wrong? She actually wanted to enjoy this, so of course she didn’t consider all the ways it could end poorly. It only made sense.

Thankfully, Tam intervened on her behalf. “If he thinks–or his family thinks–that he’s a good match for Leida, then he must be.” She said it matter-of-factly, glaring at Rin the same way she had at Esha mere minutes ago. “Either that, or he’s very sure of himself, which isn’t a bad thing either. But he wouldn’t ask for an introduction if he’s not sure he’ll get somewhere with it.”

There were nods from around the room. That sounded sensible.

Leida couldn’t agree more, either. Most of the time Tam’s shrewdness was helpful, usually whenever Leida wanted to make a point but didn’t know enough about it to support her argument. Leida had the feeling the other girls were afraid of Tam’s viciousness, though a little less than they were afraid of Leida’s dismissal, which was how it was supposed to be.

Peer-maids were golden girls, chosen from families of standing (though, not of enough standing to warrant peer-maids for their own daughters). Your one duty as a peer-maid was to impress the family who chose you, and if your fellow peer-maids were stepping out of line and not acting the way you thought they should, you were allowed to be as cruel to them as you liked. The only limit was that, no matter how smart or ambitious you were, the only person you were not allowed to outshine was the daughter of the family you served.

So far, Tam had walked that fine line with ease. But if she ever slipped, perhaps said something that made her seem as socially inept as Esha or Rin, Leida could dismiss her or do with her whenever she liked.

And she just might, if it ever came to that.

Rin, on the other hand, had none of Tam’s awareness. “Well, what if it’s the other way around, then? What if he doesn’t like you ?”

An even greater insult. The room was starting to become tense.

Teeva tried to calm things down, but the uncertainty was starting to show in her voice, too. (Granted, it was probably just uncertainty about how she was supposed to spin this rumor when she started spreading it, but still.) “This is all official, isn’t it, Leida? He won’t change his mind after he sees you, will he?”

“He can’t, at least not this far into it”, Tam argued again. “My mother told me about it. Chandrilan marriages aren’t a game. The meeting is really just to seal the deal between the families. If you two are truly bound to each other, then seeing each other in the flesh is just confirmation. That’s how it worked for Mother and Father. Nothing changes unless something goes wrong and one of you backs out.”

More approving nods. Clearly, Tam was the authoritative voice on this. Leida was still grateful to have someone covering for her, but it was starting to annoy her slightly that Tam knew more about this than she did. She was the one getting married, after all. That would have to change.

But for the time being, Tam’s input eased everyone’s worries, at least a little. Nobody was panicking, which was good. This was supposed to be a celebration, after all. 

Naiko set the comb in her hand on the floor, Leida’s hair spread across her lap. “ You won’t change your mind, will you, Leida?” She asked. “We would like to see you get married.”

“I won’t”, Leida said. Her voice came out sounding more confident than she’d ever thought it could be, and it made her feel older, wiser, like a woman with a choice. She was choosing this, and she had never been more sure of anything in her life.

She continued, saying all the words she knew to be true, the ones she repeated to reassure herself whenever she saw her mother from across the room, looking at her as though she were a bad omen. All the reasons she had for doing this, all the reasons why she wasn’t afraid.

“If this marriage is happening, then it is fated, woven into the thread. I look forward to meeting Stekan, and however he looks or acts, if he and I are meant to be together, then I believe I can marry him. And I intend to.”

The other girls hummed in admiration. Leida revelled in it; she knew she’d said the right thing. She liked those words. They made her sound mature, collected, perfect and practiced. No longer a girl, but something better. An ideal. A shining example, someone her friends would envy. A bride. A woman.

Naiko sighed, wistfully. “That’s beautiful, Leida, really.”

Teeva agreed. “Reminds me of something Mother says a lot. ‘If you don’t want to be disappointed, don’t expect anything.’ ”

“Maybe instead of expecting”, Naiko said, “we can just hope , instead. Let’s hope that Stekan will be everything Leida wants.”

“Or”, Tam added, “that he’ll be everything she needs .”

Leida felt Naiko’s hands brush her hair aside, so her friend could put both hands on her shoulders from behind. A supportive gesture; it felt like a push forward. “Leida, I’m so glad to see you be happy.”

Leida smiled, but something about those words cut through her like a knife. The thought behind them was so simple: Whatever she wanted, as long as it made her happy, she could have. Anything , as long as she was happy. Could anything be simpler?

That made her mother’s attitude all the worse to bear. Why couldn’t she understand something so simple? This was all Leida wanted, and having it made her happy. Did her mother not apply the same rules to herself as her friends did? Did she not want Leida to be happy?

Maybe she thought she knew better. Maybe she was so used to getting her way, doing whatever it was that she did at The Senate and bossing Leida and her father around, that she thought she knew what would make Leida happy better than Leida herself did.

And what she thought would make Leida happy was what was most convenient for herself. For Leida to stay small and young forever, never make choices for herself, and depend on her mother for everything. Leida couldn’t even choose her own clothes. Why would her mother ever let her choose marriage?

But she would. She’d chosen this. She was getting married, because she wanted to, because it made her happy.

Because she was happy. Wasn’t she?

***

It was dark outside the window. Coruscant glowed, from the ground upwards towards its highest levels, the sounds of the city muffled by the glass.

Esha looked out onto the lights below, feeling Rin’s head resting on her shoulder. It was just the two of them; the other three girls had split up for the ride home. Esha secretly preferred it this way. The two of them had known each other the longest, and Rin was the only one in the group who didn’t make her feel terrified or awkward to be around. 

“Rin?” She asked, breaking through the silence.

The other girl cracked open her heavy eyelids. “Hm?”

It had been a long evening, and it was clear Rin wanted to go home and rest. She was the one who lived the furthest away from the Mothma’s residence, so the journey home would be a longer one for her. They all had to travel because Leida’s home was the nicest out of all the girls’, and so it was the best place for them to all meet each other.

Speaking of Leida, Esha thought of their talk earlier that evening. “Rin”, she repeated her friend’s name again, before saying, “Do you think Leida’s actually happy?”

“Why are you asking?” Rin yawned, confused. “Why does it matter what Leida feels?”

Fair point. Even though peer-maids practically grew up together, and they were supposed to be Leida’s friends, playmates, almost her sisters (because Chandi traditions meant all of you were all family), there was a lot of performance involved in it.

Tradition made it seem you were all supposed to like each other, so when you started to drift apart, liking each other felt like an obligation. Even though all the girls dressed like Leida, and they spent time with her, and even looked uncannily like her, because they were all expected to be the same, it made all the ways they weren’t seem even more obvious. Whenever each of them found something about the others that they didn’t like, it became very hard to ignore. Conflict between the girls was hiding around every corner, waiting to happen.

So why should Esha care?

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just a little shocked, is all.”

“What do you mean?” Rin asked.

“Well, marriage is serious. And Leida will be the first of us to go through it. I mean, you and I aren’t married yet. How are we supposed to help her when she needs it? It’s not like we’ll know how.”

Rin let out a long, tired sigh. “Look, you really shouldn’t worry. If anything, you should be more upset about Tam than Leida. She was being awful to you all night.”

Esha turned to look at her friend, who was still using her shoulder as a pillow, and frowned. “Weren’t you the one asking Leida all those questions? What she would do if things went wrong, all that. You sounded worried to me.”

“I asked her because I thought she would have an answer”, Rin explained. “And she didn’t, which makes me annoyed, not worried. If she actually told us she was scared, or unsure, I would’ve been worried just the same as you. But she just said something that makes her sound like my mother, so now I don’t think she needs our help.”

“Your mother?”

“It was all that ‘it is fated’ nonsense. My mother says that all the time, and Leida said the same thing.”

There was a beat of silence, and Esha wondered whether she was thinking about this too much. Leida, saying the same things a Chandrilan mother would say? Had she always been like this? Or was Esha being too uptight?

“That is a little strange”, she let herself admit.

“It is”, Rin said. She sighed again. “I hate all this talk of marriage and boys and fate. It makes me exhausted.”

That brought a huff of a laugh out of Esha. “Me too. I don’t know how Leida does it.”

“Tam and Naiko encourage her too much, I think. And since she likes them, she just lets them be mean to you. Especially Tam.”

Esha thought of Tam’s insults, directed at her frequently throughout the night. They got under her skin, but as with most things Tam said to her, there was nothing she could do about them, so she decided: “It’s alright.”

That made Rin tilt her head upwards, looking up at Esha directly. “No, it’s not alright. You have to stand up for yourself. It’s one thing when they say things like that to me, but they pick on you more because you’re the youngest of us.”

“By only a year!”, Esha retorted. She had never considered her age to be that obvious of a weakness.

Rin added, “You’re smaller, too, and not as pretty as some of them.”

That should’ve hurt as much as some of the things Tam said, but Esha knew Rin well enough by now that she was used to her friend’s bluntness. It was better than Tam’s snide jabs, anyway. Bluntness could be a good thing when it was more honest than hurtful.

“You don’t think I’m as pretty as Tam and Leida?” She asked, but her tone was half-playful, and she expected Rin to catch on.

Strangely, however, Rin, who normally never seemed to care whether she offended anyone, hesitated to continue the joke. She thought for a minute, before saying, “Well, the other girls think that. I think you look just fine, though. Honestly, you look really nice.”

Esha’s face felt strangely warm at that, but she assumed it was because of Rin’s breath on her face.

“Thank you for that”, she said, because her mother scolded her enough that she knew never to lose her manners.

Rin smiled, if only just slightly, sleepy-eyed. “I meant it.” 

She reached out clumsily in the dark for Esha’s hand, and Esha helped her along by reaching back out to her, and for a moment, everything was actually alright.

Leida could have her wedding, Esha thought to herself, if she and Rin could still have this.

Chapter Text

It was a stormy afternoon. It was raining, yet the sky was still light. All the girls were slow and bored, the cool and constant rain making them sleepy. They had spent the past few hours lazing around, lying on the floor of Leida’s room, with nothing better to do, scrambling for any form of entertainment they could find. Naiko and Leida had turned to needlework, while the rest of the girls had started playing a game. It was a slow afternoon, for sure, but Leida told herself that she didn’t mind. Slow could be peaceful. Slow was different, and she was getting used to all things different.

The embroidery in her hands was different, too. It had been a gift–really, a chore, but Leida took it as a gift–from Naiko’s mother. They were a pair of unfinished handkerchiefs; gold thread on airy white cloth. The decorative pattern on them was only half-completed, and Leida had volunteered to help Naiko finish the design on one of them. 

Naiko had been more than happy to accept Leida’s offer. “Have you done this before?” She asked, in reference to needlework, as she handed Leida one of the half-embroidered pieces.

“Yes”, Leida said. 

That was a lie, but Leida wasn’t about to admit that Naiko of all people knew something she didn’t. Especially with the rest of the girls sitting in the room with them, Leida refused to let Naiko be the only one seen sewing. She had to show them she could do this, that she was capable. She had skill. She was mature .

Leida held her breath as she pushed the needle through the thin fabric, stretched tightly across a long wooden frame; thin enough that she could hold it in her hands, and long enough that it stretched across her lap as she sat on the windowsill. Her fingers felt clumsy as she switched hands, finding the needle on the other side of the cloth, feeling its sharp point against her fingernail. She took the needle between her fingers and dragged the gold thread attached to it through the cloth, watching the excess thread loop and arc over the fabric before vanishing through it, leaving behind a stitch, a narrow line of gold. Each stitch was one in a long line, like a link in a chain. 

Leida wondered what the design as a whole was supposed to represent. The lines were delicate, forming geometrical patterns. Rows and rows of the same shape, lined on top of each other, a single thick line in the middle of them all, cutting across the entire handkerchief. Perhaps it was a flower, with layered petals and a long stem. Leida tried to see it that way, but all she could think was that the design looked like nothing. Just patterns repeated over and over, no real meaning to be found.

It was tedious work, and Leida could feel herself struggling to stay awake. The patter of the rain was like a soft lullaby, and deep down, she wanted nothing more than to throw the needlework across the room, lie down, and sleep. But that would be a childish thing to do, and Leida was determined to prove that she was not a child.

Leida disliked being young, because apparently, being young meant being wrong all the time. Every room she walked into seemed to be full of older people who didn’t understand her, who thought she couldn’t understand them, and who never approved of anything she did. Being young meant being nothing but young; it was the first thing people seemed to notice about her. People would comment on how much she’d grown, how tall or beautiful or different she was now, as if they couldn’t think of or see who she was in the present without referencing some version of her that she’d already grown out of. 

Everything about being young was uncomfortable. Sometimes, nothing felt like it was yours. Your clothes weren’t yours; they were picked out by other people, who told you what to wear and not to wear. Your body wasn’t yours; it was always changing, and people kept telling you that. And every so often, you would find yourself standing in the middle of a party you didn’t host, smiling through clenched teeth and laughing at jokes you didn’t think were funny, and you’d start to wonder if you really knew who you were at all.

Sometimes, during those parties, while watching her mother talk politics with people she didn’t know or find interesting, Leida would feel a very strong urge to sit herself down on the floor and scream, if only that would get people’s attention, if it could get all the adults in her life to start looking at her, if it could scare people enough that it got them to start following her tune for once. She wanted something to shift, for everyone to start telling her the things she wanted to hear, to start treating her the way she wanted to be treated, to start being amusing and witty and start catering to her whims for a change.

But people would only listen to you if you were older. They would only understand if you completely captured their attention by showing them you deserved to be heard. So Leida would have to start acting the part. She had to become a woman , the kind of woman who would be accepted, who would be understood. She had to be refined, and these traditions would help her practice. 

The other girls, however, were nowhere near as patient as Leida was. Even though their games were nowhere near as dull as Leida’s embroidery, they were already losing spirits fast.

“This isn’t fun anymore”, Teeva groaned from the other side of the room, and tossed the playing cards she had been holding onto the couch with a discouraged sigh.

Tam narrowed her eyes at the other girl over her own cards, which–judging by how she was holding onto them tightly in her well-manicured fingers, spread out like a fan–must have been a winning deck. “Don’t spoil the game, Teeva.”

Rin, who was lying on her stomach, tossing her bad cards through the air to see how far they would fly before landing on the carpet, looked up and said, doubtfully, “Tam, you’re the only one still playing.”

Tam straightened, conceited. “It’s not my fault I keep winning”.

“You were supposed to teach us how the game goes!” Rin said, and in her annoyance, flicked one of her unused cards so far across the floor that it landed in Naiko’s unattended lap.

“Hey!” Naiko yelled, settling her needlework down on the floor next to herself, before angrily picking up the card and launching it right back towards the group. “All of you stop being such sore losers, and don’t throw things at me.”

“ I didn’t throw anything”, Teeva argued. “It was Rin. And you should blame Tam for making us lose.”

Esha nudged one of the smooth game-pieces in her hand with her fingertip, staring at the floor like she wanted to sink through it. “You should all stop yelling at each other”, she mumbled, but it sounded more like a plea. One that went unheard as the other girls started glaring at each other like they were about to lunge at the others’ throats.

Leida listened in on the group, sensing the fight that was about to take place. She knew she probably ought to put a stop to the whole thing, or else chaos would ensue. Then the noise would make her mother come running, and she’d get blamed and lectured for something she had nothing to do with.

But she really couldn’t be bothered. Did she have to get involved? Then again, it wasn’t like her embroidery was so exciting that she didn’t want to do anything else. In fact, it was the opposite, and she would rather do anything but continue with her needlework.

But was it the right thing, the mature thing to do? Probably. Nothing was more childish, after all, than five girls starting a fight over a losing game of cards.

Suddenly, Leida had an idea.

She set her embroidery down on the windowsill, secretly thankful that she wouldn’t have to worry about it for at least the next hour. Her hands were cramping, and the boredom was driving her insane.

She had come up with a new, better way to pass the time.

“Esha’s right”, she announced, and she could feel the whole room turning to face her. Looks of confusion, annoyance, and curiosity were on everybody’s faces. Leida stepped closer to the circle of girls, standing while they sat, higher than all of them. She stooped for a minute to pick up the game-pieces on the floor before tossing them aside under a pair of cushions to accompany her point: “We shouldn’t fight, and we shouldn’t be wasting our time on games anymore. We’re all women now, and we have much more important matters at hand.”

Rin scoffed openly at that, saying, “What could possibly be more important than Tam’s superior playing skills?”

Tam shot her a glare, but her irritation was short-lived. It was Rin, after all, and Rin never said anything that Tam didn’t find annoying.

Leida continued, “To answer your question, Rin: Marriage . Marriage is what we should all be thinking about instead.”

There was a long moment of silence. Something in the room had shifted. Most of the annoyance in the other girls’ expressions had now been replaced by intrigue instead. They wanted to know what Leida had in mind. This, Leida thought, was proof: People were more likely to listen to her when she was like this, when they thought she had something interesting to say.

“My wedding will be held according to the traditional Chandrilan marriage customs”, Leida spoke, keeping her voice as steady as possible. “I’ve done some research, and I think I’d like to prepare for the ceremony beforehand. And I want all of you to help me.”

Another silence. Then, unmistakably excited chattering amongst the girls. This was new .

Naiko blinked up at Leida from where she sat on the floor. “ How do you want us to help you, Leida?” Her voice was high with anticipation. It felt juvenile, cloying, but Naiko could be that way. She always seemed to act ten years younger around Leida.

Leida let it slide. With a proud smile on her face, her head held high, she revealed her idea: “We’ll recreate the ceremony. Here. Now.”

A beat of surprise, followed by hushed sounds of delight. Leida knew she’d made the right choice. This would be an excellent way to pass the time. It was only practical; it would give her a chance to rehearse, and it would give the other girls something to do.

Even though she could already guess what the answer would be, Leida asked, “So, what do you all think? Should we do it?”

Naiko, eager as always, let out a squeal of excitement. “Of course, yes!”

Tam shrugged and set her playing cards aside, slightly disappointed that she had to forfeit a winning game. “It does sound quite educational”, she admitted.

“It sounds much more entertaining than cards”, said Teeva.

Rin let out a long sigh. “If there’s nothing for us to do…”

“Then I’m in agreement”, Esha said, finishing Rin’s sentence for her.

“Excellent.” Leida stepped again, and took Naiko by the arm, hoisting her up off the floor. “I’ll be the bride, of course. And Naiko, you can be the groom. You’ll be Stekan.”

The girls gasped and giggled. 

Naiko looked overjoyed. She asked, ready for anything, “If I’m Stekan, then what do I do?” “You say the vows with me”, Leida replied, “And then, we dance.”

That earned some more commotion from the group. Dancing was always a great source of entertainment. 

“How will I know the vows?” Naiko asked.

At that, Leida skipped across the room to retrieve a datapad from her bed, opening the files she found a few days ago containing information on Chandrilan wedding practices. 

“I have them with me here.” Maybe it seemed a little awkward, her holding her datapad while doing this–it made her seem less experienced, but surely, it wasn’t fair to expect her to know all the vows from memory either. Anyhow. This was only a rehearsal, after all. She didn’t have to take it that seriously. 

At least, not yet.

For now, Leida was moving onto other things. She walked over to each of the other five girls, helping them stand, and assigning them their roles one by one: “Tam, you can be the father of the bride; my father. Teeva, you can be Stekan’s father. Rin, you’ll be my mother. And Esha, you’ll be Stekan’s mother.”

Everybody stood, accepting their respective parts proudly.

“We should all look the part, too.” Leida stepped back for a moment to walk across the room–even as she did, she could feel everyone’s eyes follow her–and threw open a drawer, pulling out long scarves and ribbons in several colors: costumes for the wedding party.

She handed each of the girls either a scarf or ribbon, depending on which part they played, trying to make sure it lined up with the descriptions of the ceremonies she had read about over the past few days. Scarves for the female relatives’ veils, and ribbons for the ropes around the male relatives’ head.

“Now, we’re all ready.” Leida took a long look at her friends, all dressed in the strangest clothes imaginable. To think that one day, there would be adults standing in their places, no longer playing pretend. It felt strange, like a premonition, an echo of the future before it had even happened.

She suddenly felt a surge of nervousness that she had to push back down. On the real day, she wouldn’t have a script to consult, and if something went wrong, she wouldn’t get a do-over.

Everything about this had to be perfect. It was a test, and she could not fail. 

She wouldn’t fail, she promised herself. She just had to do this right, practice hard enough, and everything would turn out just fine.

It had to. She had to succeed. Because if she failed, this wedding would turn into her funeral, and the guests she’d attracted would turn on her and tear her to shreds.

***

“Leida Mothma is getting married”, Tam said to her older sister, craning her neck higher as she spoke.

Ser had always been tall, towering over most women her age, but she looked even taller than usual from this angle, gliding along in her trailing dress, with Tam watching her from the floor. Tam thought she only managed to look more and more like their mother as she got older, with her wicked dark eyes and plentiful freckles and that beautiful yet cruel smile. Tam’s features weren’t anywhere near as refined yet, although the resemblance between them was definitely noticeable. Ser was just older , more mature.

“Oh, poor thing”, Ser responded, but there was no sympathy in her voice. If anything, she said the words with humorous delight. “Has she met the boy yet?”

Tam shook her head. “She hasn’t. But I’ve asked Teeva, and Teeva’s asked some other person. You know how it is. From what I’m hearing, I think they’ll be perfect for each other.”

Ser snickered at that. “So he’s handsome?”

“And simple”, Tam added. The truth was knife-sharp, and yet she did not regret saying it. She rarely ever regretted anything she said about anyone else, no matter how cruel, but she definitely did not feel any shame about insulting Leida and her future husband in front of Ser. She knew whatever her sister was thinking about her friend was probably much more unforgiving than what she herself had to say.

Tam’s sister was both her competition and her inspiration, which was actually perfect, because Tam doubted she would respect Ser as much as she did if she didn’t also envy her so much that the jealousy sometimes felt like hate.

Ser was the eldest, the golden child, and the most Chandrilan woman Tam knew. It was something about the way she carried herself. She had pride . Pride in her identity, in her role in life, in her appearance, in her very being . It was a kind of self-assurance that made everyone seem meek and cowardly by comparison. 

The best example of this attitude had happened during Ser’s own wedding, when the groom had fumbled—he’d stuttered nervously as he’d taken the dagger in his hand—and Ser reacted by simply holding her head high and stepping even closer to him, almost as if daring him to back down. He didn’t. The blade he used to cut her hair scratched her cheek, drawing the tiniest drop of blood, yet Ser didn’t even flinch. She simply stood tall, bleeding out in her wedding dress, and survived.

Ser had no room in her life for little girls who acted like children. Everyone was either against her or beneath her, and she seemed to encourage Tam to think the same way. Which Tam could appreciate. It helped put things into her perspective: She might have had friends, but at the end of the day, it was everyone for themselves, and she had to come out on top. She had to win at life.

She didn’t mind tearing Leida down in the process. “We helped her practice her wedding vows today.”

“Was it promising?” Ser asked.

Tam didn’t hesitate to say, “I could do better.”

“Not very promising, then.” 

Ser let out a pitiful sigh. Tam knew her sister was truly winning, running far ahead of everyone else. Which was annoying. But it also meant she was the best person to consult.

Gathering her courage, Tam asked, “Do you think I have a chance? At marriage?”

Ser hummed, amused. “Isn’t it a little early for you to be thinking about that?” But the irony in her words was obvious.

“Leida’s getting married. I know we don’t have her wealth or name, but I know I can do better than she can. Far better.”

That seemed to please Ser. “If you want it, then I don’t see what’s stopping you from having it.”

And there really wasn’t anything stopping her, Tam thought. She refused to let anything get in the way. This was what she wanted, and she would stop at nothing to get it.

Chapter Text

Leida kept her eyes facing ahead, breathing deeply, trying to push the nervousness aside. This was it. The day had finally arrived.

This was the day when she would be meeting Stekan for the first time. It would be the second most important day of her life (second only to her wedding, of course). Both of her parents were there, and Stekan’s parents would be, too. Like the vows and the ceremony, this meeting would be another irreversible step forward, further into the future that Leida was laying for herself.

As she stood, counting down the minutes until the time of the appointment arrived, Leida repeated in her mind what Tam had told her and her peer-maids a few days ago. That this meeting was really just a negotiation, and that unless something went very horribly wrong, the wedding would still happen.

The information was a two-sided knife: On one hand, it was reassuring to know that there’d still be a wedding even if she made a mistake. On the other hand, it made the possibility seem even more troubling. What if something did go wrong?

She wondered about Stekan. She’d spent the past few days imagining what he’d be like. Would she like him? Would he like her? She wondered if he ever spent nights staring up at his ceiling before bedtime, wondering what being married would feel like, the same way she did. Was he nervous about this too? 

Maybe he didn’t have to worry about it as much as she did. He was a boy after all, and a boy becoming a groom was a lot different from a girl becoming a bride. Leida had a tiny, fleeting thought about how ‘daughter’, ‘wife’, and ‘mother’ felt like three separate words, but ‘son’, ‘husband’, and ‘father’ felt more like one.

She pushed the idea out of her mind as soon as it was announced that the Sculdens were waiting for them in the next room.

This was it, she thought to herself. Every step forward was like sneaking a glimpse at what her future would look like. She just hoped that by the time she had seen enough of it, what she saw wouldn’t scare her. 

The door opened, and she saw her future husband for the first time.

The first thing that crossed Leida’s mind was that he was a boy . She knew he’d be—he was her age, after all—but seeing him for the first time really made her realize it. The truth was so obvious that it was all that she could think. He was a boy.

He looked young. He was —Leida knew that—but he looked that way too, and that made it even harder to ignore. It would’ve made it easier if he were even just a little older, because then he might look like he actually knew what he was supposed to do, but instead, he looked just as young and clueless as Leida was. 

Still, ignoring that, he wasn’t ugly, at least, which was a relief. Not anything special, but he looked just fine. Fresh-faced, skin barely freckled and pink-spotted; dark-haired, like her. His eyes were vacant, like his mind was parsecs away. He was alright, and just that. Nothing more.

Leida didn’t know whether to be satisfied or disappointed. Had she been expecting too much? She’d tried to do what Teeva had said, and tried not to expect anything at all. Yet she couldn’t help but feel that strange hollow feeling: This was it? And then she scolded herself for feeling that way. What she wanted left no room for second thoughts.

This was fine. It was fine. It had to be, or else the day was wasted. Or else all of this—the waiting, the nerves—had been for nothing.

Her mother and father stepped forward to greet Stekan’s parents. The Sculdens were mirror opposites of Leida’s parents. Stekan’s father seemed like a serious man, with a harsh, almost business-like edge. He was almost nothing like Leida’s father, with his laidback attitude, swaying casually from room to room. Stekan’s mother was nothing like Leida’s either, with her big hair and bright eyes.

“This must be her,” Stekan's mother—Runai, Leida caught her name—said, lowering herself down on one bent knee, so she could look at Leida at eye-level. She smelled heavily of perfume. “Leida, isn’t that right?”

“Yes”, Leida answered.

Runai’s eyes flitted over her quickly. That high-speed, secret way girls— women —survey other people at first glance. Leida was learning to recognize the look; she was going to be practicing it a lot after this.

She wondered what Runai was thinking. Would something in her eyes die a little? Would she have the same reaction Leida did when she saw Stekan, and feel that slow, sinking, tepid disappointment?

Leida hadn’t even considered that she would have to impress her in-laws as well as her future husband. Yet another thing for her to worry about. This was exhausting. It wasn’t supposed to be. Was it?

Thankfully, Runai didn’t seem too bothered at all. Then again, maybe she was just better at not expecting anything than Leida was. She’d had more practice, after all.

“My future daughter-in-law”, she said, with a friendly enough smile, and laid a hand on Leida’s head. Nothing too comforting, just acknowledging, but Leida tried to appreciate the gesture. “You can come to me for anything, alright?”

Leida managed a small nod. She hoped she wasn’t being rude.

Leida’s father cleared his throat, transitioning into the next phase of the meeting. Down to business . Shooting a glance at Stekan and her, he said, “I say we ought to let the two get to know each other, shouldn’t we?”

A vague noise of agreement from Leida’s mother. Leida turned to look at her, and for a split second, she wanted to run to her like she had when she was still a little girl. She wanted her mother to do something, say something. And then she felt angry that she didn’t.

Everything was on her. Leida was supposed to handle it all on her own. And she could . She had to. That was just the price of getting older, of being a woman.

She just wished it didn’t have to be so hard.

***

The girl came up to him, matching him in height. She looked alright. Pretty. She seemed smarter than him. She stared at him like she was waiting for him to say something.

He wasn’t sure what to say. What do you say to a girl you’ve only met for the first time, who you’re also supposed to marry? Maybe his mother would know. But she was already halfway across the room, talking to the other grownups. 

A long, awkward silence passed. Finally, the girl spoke first.

“Hello.” The easiest way to start a conversation.

“Hello.” He said it back.

“I’m Leida”, she said. She eyed his hand as if she was wondering whether she should give him hers.

“I’m Stekan.”

It seemed rude to not take her hand. So he gave her his, and she took it. A light shake; he was barely hanging onto her fingers. Like touching an animal you’re not sure will run away from you.

Another long silence. The adults were pouring a drink; he could hear the clink of glass and the sloshing of liquor from elsewhere in the room.

The girl—Leida—looked at him, still waiting. For what? After he did nothing but blink back at her, she looked out the window and squinted strangely at the horizon, like she might start crying.

Was she really going to cry? About what? What a strange girl. Stekan wasn’t sure he’d like to be around her if she started crying. People crying was always odd. He never liked it when his mother cried either. Crying made things complicated, and complicated things were never fun.

He was sure she was thinking about something. What could she be thinking about? If boys and girls all thought of the same things, life would be so much easier. Because all he was thinking about was her, and how there was really nothing to be upset about. But maybe that wasn’t how it was for her.

He tried to find a way to fix it. When people started getting sad, it was always easier to cheer them up as soon as possible. Gave everyone one less problem to deal with. Made things easier—and less awkward—for everybody involved.

She seemed smart. Was she the joking type? If only he knew what things she liked, so he could start talking about that. Otherwise, all he had to talk about was himself, and he didn’t want to bore her. Or maybe she wouldn’t be bored. Maybe she was more of a listener.

How was he supposed to know what to do?

He watched her, her face in profile. One long braid of brown hair led down from high up on her head, trailing down past her shoulder. He wanted to reach out and tug on it, just to see if there’d be some kind of answer attached to the other end. Some way to make her feel better. 

Then, as she reached a hand up to touch her face—she wasn’t crying just yet, but she was holding back tears, definitely—she brushed against something hanging off the sash at her waist. It caught his attention.

He pointed at the thick loop of gold thread hanging from her belt. “What is that?”

Leida turned to him suddenly, caught off guard. “What?”

Then, she followed his gaze to the thread at her waist. “Oh.” She sounded a little embarrassed. “It’s nothing. I…I was just doing some embroidery.”

Embroidery? A strange choice of hobby, but he relented. He just didn’t think she’d be the type; she seemed too quick-witted for such a slow, boring pastime. 

“Can I see that?” He asked her, still pointing.

Leida looked confused. Still, she pulled the thread slowly from her belt, and it fell from her waist, a long line of gold, the end landing limply on the floor. She gave the thread to him, not sure what he was about to do, but welcoming any kind of distraction.

Stekan looped the thread around his hand, gathering it together neatly at first. Then, he slowly started to tangle the string around each of his fingers in a pattern, a game he’d played before.

He wasn’t sure if it would work, but in his experience, games were always a great way to cheer someone up, and he hoped that Leida would like it. She seemed more the type for games, anyway.

She was definitely interested, at the very least. “What are you doing?”

He showed her his hands, held a short distance apart, gold thread crossing back and forth between all his fingers. 

“Do you want me to show you?”

Leida looked skeptical, but she stepped closer.

Stekan lifted his hands up in front of his chest. “Can you…make your hands like mine?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she did, lifting her hands to mirror his. Gently, he moved the thread from his hands to hers, tangling the thread around her fingers in the same way.

“There”, Stekan said. “Now…”

He picked a piece of thread, moving it around one of Leida’s fingers. The pattern of the string changed. Shapes like shards of glass, like a dozen rivers and mountains. It needed a bit of imagination, but that was why it was fun. 

He knew he’d have to hide the string before his parents saw—his father would probably scold him for it—but it was worth it, for getting rid of the awkwardness, and for seeing the way it made Leida look less worried about everything. She just watched, lost but slightly amused, at the way he tried to make her happier.

He was glad it was helping, if only just a little. Because really, what did she have to worry about?

Everything was alright. She didn’t need to cry.

Chapter Text

“So?” Naiko asked as she fiddled with the sash of the new dress Leida was trying on, looping the excess fabric multiple times before tying the end knot in the back, not too tightly. She looked at Leida’s reflection in the long mirror they stood in front of, waiting for her reply.

Outside the window, the sun was setting fast, but none of Leida’s peer-maids were in a hurry to get home. The girls would be staying the night tonight, at Leida’s insistence, and to her mother’s chagrin.

The argument about the girls sleeping over at the Mothmas’ had gone down the way most of their arguments went these days: Leida had had an idea, her mother had disapproved, and the whole thing had ended with her father interfering and Leida finally getting what she wanted.

Over dinner, when Leida had announced her plans for the girls to spend the night, her mother had looked up at her and made her feel like a problem that needed to be solved. 

“Leida, do the girls’ families know about this?” Her mother asked, shifting her gaze slowly from Leida onto the peer-maids, who all ducked their heads instinctively and snuck questioning glances in Leida’s direction. Would they be getting in trouble for this?

Leida shifted in her seat, trying to hide her discomfort with being put on the spot in front of her friends. “Why does that matter? I want them here. They’re staying .” She hoped her tone was firm, that it showed she could hold an argument just as well as her mother could.

Clearly, that wasn’t a good enough answer, however. Her mother looked like she was about to say something else that Leida still wouldn’t like, but thankfully, from his seat at the other end of the table, her father came to the rescue. 

“It’s alright, Leida”, he said. His tone was as easygoing as ever, even as he shot a purposeful glance at Leida’s mother: We talked about this. “Your friends can stay.”

It was final. Leida resisted the urge to smile. She felt like she’d won.

That was how, a few hours later, Leida and her friends were here, all six of them gathered in her room once again, the evening setting in all around them.

And now, Naiko was asking her a question.

“Leida?” Naiko said, trying to get her attention.

Leida hadn’t even realized she’d gotten lost in thought, her eyes drifting to the sunset outside the window. It made the sky seem bright, like a shiny new thing that stretched on forever and ever. 

But she couldn’t let it distract her. She turned back to the mirror, facing the reflection she saw. Herself, and Naiko behind her, like an echo.

“So?” Naiko asked her a second time, blinking back at Leida in the looking glass.

So, what? Leida thought. She hadn’t been listening.

She must be talking about the dress , she decided. Leida ran her hands over the front of the skirt, patting it down. The fabric was smooth and heavy, a lovely shade of green, and it felt nice to wear, even if the dress itself was too big.

“It’s pretty”, Leida offered. “I like it.”

Naiko, however, didn’t seem satisfied. She gave Leida an awkward smile, as though Leida had completely misunderstood her, and Naiko was just too afraid to offend Leida to say so directly.

Before Leida could get too confused, Tam intervened. 

“She wants to know about Stekan, Leida”, she said, helping to bring Leida back to the present moment.

Tam was sitting on the couch. A large paper box was perched on her lap, and she was in the process of lifting off the lid. As she did, the paper inside the box crinkled, and Tam unfolded it to reveal another dress, just as beautiful as the one Leida had on, only this one was as blue as the sky.

The entire room was littered with boxes of clothes—robes and veils and heavy coats, accessories, and makeup. All gifts from Tam’s sister, apparently. An extravagant surprise, and one of the main reasons why it was so important that the girls had to sleep over tonight: They needed to unwrap everything and try each item on one by one.

It was a very generous gesture on Tam’s part. Maybe a little too generous, even.

My sister says to consider it an early wedding present. Tam had said with a surprisingly benevolent smile.

Leida liked the gifts, but she still had a bad feeling about owing Tam anything, especially considering the fact that…well…it was Tam . Plus, there were far too many presents, enough items to be divided amongst all of the girls, and it felt as if Tam were trying to bribe the others, only Leida wasn’t sure why. But she tried not to lean too much into the suspicion. Especially because the gifts were nice. Very nice.

Leida cleared her throat as she watched Tam reach for another box to open. Stekan , she thought. “What do you want to know about him?”

“You’ve met him, haven’t you?” Naiko asked. She motioned for Leida to turn around so she could adjust the collar of the dress, and Leida complied.

Spun around the other way like this, she could now face the other girls, who were all opening presents of their own, leaving wrapping paper and twine scattered across the room in a trail that spanned from the floor across all the couches.

Teeva, whose ears had undoubtedly been pricking for the past hour as she waited for Leida to offer up any piece of fresh gossip, asked, “What was he like?”

Rin added, carelessly tossing aside a box-lid as she did, “What does he look like?”

“What did you two talk about?”, asked Esha, feeling the need to volunteer a question of her own.

Leida swallowed. The endless questions. She still enjoyed the attention, but it was easier to give answers when she knew exactly how to feel. And how could she be sure how she felt about Stekan, when she was still replaying their first meeting in her head, trying to understand what had really happened?

She could still remember it: The meeting had been slowly spiraling into disaster. Leida doubted she had ever felt more awkward and useless in her entire life. This boy was standing across from her, barely willing to offer up his name and his hand. On first contact, he’d grazed her fingers with his as if she were barely there. Leida couldn’t figure him out at all; it was like talking to a wall. 

It was nothing like how she’d imagined their encounter would go. It had gotten to a point where the only thing she could do was to try her best not to cry. This was awful. She’d thought. I can’t do this. How am I supposed to do this? She’d tried to tell herself to stop thinking that way, to pull herself together, which had only made her feel worse.

That was when Stekan had pointed to the thread at her waist. She’d felt embarrassed at first that she’d left it there. But then, he’d wrapped the thread around her fingers, tangling them in delicate patterns, and strangely, it made her feel just a little better.

It definitely wasn’t proper. Leida had been trying to seem mature and collected the entire time, she really had been. She knew she wasn’t supposed to like this. Shouldn’t they be forming a serious connection, talking about whichever serious things they ought to be talking about? This seemed childish and inappropriate. Why were they playing games instead of doing something more meaningful?

Yet that wasn’t the question that she managed to ask Stekan.

“Do you usually do this?” She’d asked, watching him loop the thread around one of her fingers. He was surprisingly gentle.

He’d shrugged. “Only for some people.”

The idea that he was at least trying to befriend her had made her like him a little more, even though she felt like it shouldn’t have.

So what should she say about Stekan?

“Well”, she said, trying to find the best way to sum up all the surreal details from their meeting, “He was… polite . He’s about as tall as I am, and he has brown hair. He’s not bad-looking at all, actually. We talked about his family a little before it was time for him to go home.”

Leida spent a beat deciding whether to include the most crucial part of the anecdote, the detail about Stekan and the game of thread.

To her, that part of the memory felt warm, like thinking about a friend. In her mind, upon recollection, the golden thread seemed to glow as if it had been spun from sunlight. It was probably the one detail that made the encounter not feel like a complete failure.

She thought about it, letting herself remember the moment again, but only for a while, before she decided to omit that detail. She didn’t want her friends to think she’d been impressed by something so childish.

Around the room, the girls were still hung on her word, faces still turned in her direction, waiting on bated breath. Clearly, it wasn’t quite the perfect love-story they had been expecting to hear.

Leida regretted not embellishing some more, but she didn’t want to embarrass herself further down the line when her friends finally got to meet Stekan in person. She could’ve said he was unbelievably handsome, but the higher she praised him, the higher she set herself up to fall. If her friends got to meet him and thought he was perfectly plain, then she would’ve looked like a very desperate liar; or worse, seemed completely delusional.

Besides, there was very little to embellish. It had been a very short meeting, and Leida herself wasn’t even sure yet what to make of it.

Did it all seem underwhelming? Leida looked at her friends’ hopeful expressions, and she worried that she was disappointing them. They knew just as little about marriage and womanhood as she did, and they were living vicariously through her, waiting patiently for news so that they could imagine being married someday as well. And she was leading them all along, pretending she knew what she was doing any better than they did. She was promising them the perfect fantasy, and she was worried that if they caught on that it was all a lie, they would pin the blame on her.

But no, Leida decided, she had to keep up the act. She couldn’t falter, not for a moment. This wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t just a little girl’s dream; it was real. It was possible. She was getting married, because it was what she wanted, and she was happy . 

Or, at least, she would be, once all this came to pass. She just had to keep waiting, keep trying.

At least Naiko shared her optimism. That was rather typical of her; Naiko had always been easy to please. “That sounds…nice”, she offered, in regards to Leida’s description of Stekan.

Esha asked, still a little wary, “Do you like him, Leida?”

Leida thought for a moment. She supposed it was probably for the best that she should like the boy she was going to marry. ‘Yes’ would’ve been the best answer. But he was strange, and a little juvenile. Yet he wasn’t awful, either.

The most truthful answer probably would’ve been that as a friend, he had potential; but as a husband, he wasn’t exactly living up to the ideal.

But wasn’t a very flattering thing to admit, so Leida settled with saying, “I think so.”

She doubted she was being too convincing, but it was good enough for the girls, it seemed. Naiko was content, of course, already back to smiling and fussing with Leida’s clothes. Rin had already gotten distracted by a new box she wanted to open, and Esha had gotten distracted by Rin. Leaning on one arm, lying on her side on the couch, Teeva seemed unsatisfied, still hungry for more information, but she decided to let it slide. Tam just smiled knowingly, as if she had heard all that she needed to hear.

Naiko took a deep breath and let it out as she said, as happy as could be, “Looks like everything’s going well, then!”

Rin had moved on entirely at that point, and was now focused on opening her next gift. There was a very obnoxious rustling as she tore off the wrapping paper tied around a long cylinder of carved wood, which once tipped to one side, poured out a structured bundle of wooden sticks and cloth: a parasol. Rin opened it, almost hitting Tam in the back. The freckled girl pretended not to be annoyed.

“Things are definitely going well”, Rin said, pleased with her gift. She modeled walking around, her brand-new parasol balanced over one shoulder in a manner that, realistically, would absolutely fail to shield her from the sun. It made Esha chuckle.

Suddenly, everyone was back to being focused on Tam’s presents again. The girls wanted something new and shiny to entertain them, and now that Leida’s marriage story had served its purpose, they were quickly moving onto the next thing. Leida was secretly thankful for the change; she’d spent enough time talking and thinking about Stekan for one day.

Teeva handed her a large rounded box. It was so big that Leida needed to carry it in both arms after Teeva gave it to her.

“Go on, Leida. Open one. You’ve earned it.”

And Leida really felt like she had. This marriage business was exhausting.

She set the box down on the floor and opened it, gently lifting out its contents: a gigantic sunhat with a wide brim.

“That seems useful”, Esha hummed approvingly. “For good weather.”

Teeva showed the group her gift, drawn from a tiny box made of metal. “I got…whatever these are.” She held out in her palm two identical pieces of thin, beaten metal decorated with gemstones.

“They’re earrings”, Tam said, looking over at them.

Teeva picked one up and held it to the bottom of her ear. The metal glowed against her cheek. “How am I supposed to wear them?”

Tam, the expert, explained, “You’ll just have to wait till you’re older, when you’re allowed to wear them.”

A vague explanation, but Teeva didn’t ask for more details. She simply continued holding up the earrings to her face, as if she were imagining what they’d feel like actually attached to her ears.

Esha produced a series of tiny cases full of powders and balms. “These are mine.” She rubbed a bit of pale red paste on one of her cheeks, leaving behind a blush-colored hue.

“Can I try?” Rin asked, immediately setting her parasol down, still open, on the floor.

And then all of the girls were in an uproar, arguing over who would be the one to get to try out the traditional cosmetics next, which culminated in roles being assigned: Esha would apply the powders to the other girls’ faces one at a time, while the other girls waiting their turn could have their hair combed and pinned up by Tam. (Rin visibly shuddered at the mention of Tam touching her hair, and everyone pretended not to notice.)

Leida breathed out a small sigh of relief as she watched the scene play out. It was good to have something to take her mind off everything. For a few hours, she could let herself get lost in the assortment of gifts, laughing at the absurd amount of necklaces the girls were draping on themselves, and ignore the fact that she was wearing a sunhat indoors.

The gifts made everything feel worth the trouble. At least some good was coming out of this whole situation.

And there’d be more of these rare, bright moments. She knew it. All she had to do was keep hoping.

***

“Naiko, are you awake?”

Naiko blinked her eyes open as she felt someone shaking her while calling out her name in a hushed whisper. It was nighttime; the room was dark, lit only by the lights of the city beyond the window. Everyone else was asleep.

She squinted, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, trying to make out the face of whoever was trying to wake her in the dead of night. “Teeva?”

She’d guessed right. The other girl frowned at her, making the mole on her chin—one out of many similar moles scattered across her face—move. “Yes, it’s me. Took forever to wake you.”

Was she really such a heavy sleeper? “Sorry.”

Teeva shrugged. “It’s fine. Are you alright to talk?”

“About what?” She really just wanted to go back to sleep.

“Tam has something she wants to say to us.”

Tam? That couldn’t have been good. Tam was the type of person Naiko’s mother would call ‘opportunistic’. She rarely ever said or did anything that wasn’t going to end up benefitting her in the long run. Even her cruelest insults were purposeful. Naiko had a feeling she could give even Leida a reason to be scared of her, but so far, Tam seemed to have been playing nice. Another purposeful move, surely.

In a way, Tam was Naiko’s total opposite. Tam was cutthroat and serious, willing to do anything to get what she wanted, and not afraid to make other people hate her. Naiko on the other hand…Well.

She blamed her mother, really. For as long as Naiko could remember, her mother had always been the type of woman who was pleasant enough to be around, but who never managed to stand out in a room. Everybody liked her, but nobody thought she was special. It must have had something to do with her attitude: Naiko’s mother was always apologizing, always agreeing, bobbing her head along to every conversation and saying ‘yes’ to everything.

And clearly, that attitude had rubbed off on Naiko herself as well. She doubted that she even really liked Leida deep down, but because she seemed to be the leader of the group, Naiko felt the urge to agree with everything she said.

Which was why, now, Naiko had a moment of hesitation as she spotted Tam sitting by the window, resting her shoulder against the glass, waiting. Why was Tam inviting her to talk, and what kind of conversation would warrant waiting until everyone—including Leida—was asleep to have?

It felt suspicious. Surely, if Leida was awake, Naiko would’ve felt even worse about having a discussion behind her back. 

But then again…If Leida was asleep, then that made Tam the one in charge. And besides, Teeva would be joining in, too. She wouldn’t be the only one going behind Leida’s back, then. So really, wouldn’t it be better to accept the invitation, and hear what Tam had to say?

It didn’t take long for Naiko to talk herself into taking Teeva’s hand and crossing the room to sit next to Tam by the window.

The other two girls exchanged glances before speaking. Like Naiko, they were both still wearing the dresses and necklaces they’d unwrapped earlier; Tam’s presents. Both Naiko and Teeva looked out of shape from sleeping on the couch; the girls had fought over who would get to share the bed with Leida, and Tam had won, the way she often did. (Really, Esha and Rin had it worse, because after admitting defeat, Teeva had insisted that there was not enough space on the couch for four, and those two had been relegated to sleeping on the carpet.)

The whole situation could’ve been just a bit funny, if not for the deathly serious way Tam was looking at them right now.

“So”, Tam started, completely businesslike. “My sister told me something important the other day. She says I—we, really—have just as much of a chance as Leida does at marriage.”

Naiko’s eyes widened at that. Her? Marriage? She knew her mother would be thrilled at the idea.

Teeva must have been thinking the same thing, because she immediately asked, “Tam? What are you talking about?”

“My sister says she knows a lot of families with sons our age who’d be perfect for us”, Tam said, straightening, seeming ten years older suddenly. “If you ask me, I don’t think it’s fair that Leida gets to be the only one married, so if you two will help me, I’ll make sure we all find ourselves engaged as soon as possible.”

There was a pause. Naiko and Teeva blinked at each other, then looked back at Tam. Clearly, neither of them were following.

Tam explained, “Teeva, I’m sure your mother knows a lot about the families my sister mentioned. I want you to go find out more about them beforehand, if you can.”

Naiko knew that wouldn’t be too big a favor to ask of Teeva; the other girl was always on the lookout for gossip, and besides, she wasn’t exactly good at keeping secrets.

Teeva thought for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. “I’ll see what I can do”, she said reluctantly. 

“And Naiko”, Tam said, addressing her next. “I know this might be a bit hard for you, considering how close you and Leida are, but I want you to make sure Leida doesn’t find out about our plans. It’d be nice to keep her in the dark until we’re ready to announce it, don’t you think? Can you do that?”

Lying to Leida? Naiko wasn’t sure she could do that. She doubted she had ever been a good liar, ever, but lying to the one person in the group she trusted to lead her the most?

But then again, Tam was right. It wasn’t fair that Leida was the only one who got to have a wedding.

Besides, Naiko thought, for once in her life, it’d be a good chance for her to not act like her mother, and take something for herself for once.

With a slow nod, she agreed.

Tam smiled a toothy, wickedly beautiful smile. It scared Naiko a little, but she knew it was too late to back out.

She offered a quick mental apology to Leida. Because she knew that once Tam had a plan, there was no way to outsmart it.

Chapter Text

Leida looked down at the meal in front of her. She stirred the clear warm broth with her spoon, watching a thin haze of steam rise over the edge of the bowl and into the air, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that Stekan hadn’t taken his eyes off her since they’d started eating dinner. 

The Sculdens were visiting again. Tonight, the two families were supposed to be discussing wedding details over dinner. It was all a bit of a blur. Leida kept trying to listen, to keep a polite expression on her face and show she was being enthusiastic, that she cared about this, about her future. But as the conversation droned on and on, Leida could feel her mind retreat further and further away from the dinner-table, her thoughts lifting themselves and floating out of her head into the air, up and up, until they hit the ceiling, with nowhere else to go. Soon, that was where Leida saw herself: lying on the ceiling, staring down at a room that looked familiar but felt like something out of a dream or a game of make-believe. 

From her imaginary point of view, she pictured seeing her mother’s head from above, a small spot of light. Leida wondered what she was thinking, if she knew what Leida was thinking, and if there was anything either of them could do about all this.

And then, just when Leida thought she couldn’t get any more distracted, she noticed Stekan looking at her.

She snuck a glance over at him as that thought crossed her mind, and there he was again, staring at her from the other side of the table. The boy whose eyes had never seemed to land on her the last time they’d met, his gaze darting and drifting across the room like a ball bouncing off the walls, was now staring at her. And she had no idea why.

Was he finally starting to warm up to her? Had he finally overcome that boyish nervousness he’d had the first time they’d met, and finally decided to start talking to her more?

But he hadn’t said a single word the entire night, not even joining in the conversation with more than a nod every now and then.

Really, he was being rude. Leida was starting to wonder if he was just very oblivious or if he simply didn’t care. She really wished he would be a little more aware of how he was acting. He was about to become her husband, and Leida didn’t want a husband who would embarrass her. She needed him to start acting like he was under the same amount of pressure as she was, because this was supposed to be a shared effort, and it wouldn’t be fair for him to make her do this alone. She didn’t want to do this alone. It would be better if he didn’t make her the only one responsible for this.

Then again, maybe she couldn’t blame Stekan entirely for that. Leida had been glued to her datapad for the past few weeks, spending all her free-time reading up on information about Chadrilan culture. She’d even do research into the late hours of the night, falling asleep with her datapad resting on her stomach.

She’d learned a lot from doing that. Mostly, she’d learned that the very act of learning, of practicing, was work. So much work went into a wedding.

Now, technically, nothing in the ancient texts she’d found outright stated that it was the bride’s job to do all this work. But, really, who else was supposed to?

And because the bride was expected to do all the work, she’d always be blamed whenever something went wrong. Suddenly, a wedding, something meant to happen between two people, would become the responsibility of just one.

Leida thought about the future, which was both an exciting and terrifying thing to do. She imagined the future once the two of them were married. What would it look like? Would they stroll through parties, her hanging off Stekan’s arm, Leida being the only one making all the jokes and polite conversation while Stekan did…whatever he wanted? Leaving her to do everything to keep their lives together, letting her take the fall by herself whenever things went wrong? He wouldn’t even be aware of how much she was doing for the both of them. He’d simply glide on through life, oblivious and unbothered, perfectly happy, while Leida stood next to him, dying inside.

Leida looked at the far end of the table, at her mother and father, and let that mental image sink in.

She was being cynical, she told herself, trying to eat. It was alright. She wouldn’t blame Stekan. She had to try her best not to, because the only thing worse than having an embarrassing husband would be having a husband she despised. She had to accept that this was just how he’d be, and even if it felt unfair, she really had no right to expect anything more of him.

She had to practice not expecting, trying to find the bright spots in every situation. She had to. Because if she didn’t…If she didn’t—.

“Stekan”, Runai’s voice spoke, breaking through the cool silence. “You’ve hardly touched your food. Is something wrong?”

Leida blinked up from her bowl at Stekan, who finally spoke his first words of the night, saying, “I’m alright, Mother. I’m sorry.”

He sounded so small and apologetic, and Leida wasn’t sure if she could rely on him. He was staring again, as if he was itching to say something to her, and she wondered what sort of tricks he had up his sleeve.

Whatever they were, though, whatever happened…She would have to be alright. She would have to make this work. She had to.

***

He went up to Leida after the main course. She was staring out the window onto the city. When she turned around, she looked annoyed, like she’d just been thinking something that had made her upset.

He started to worry. Was this a bad time?

He wished he could ask his mother what to do, but he was already in hot water for coming up with this idea. If he pushed her too hard, then his father would get involved, and he’d give Stekan a good dress-down.

Stekan’s father didn’t like that he relied on his mother so much. To him, Stekan was old enough that he couldn’t afford to be clueless about everything anymore. He was supposed to know what to do, to take action.

But what would that even look like? Was he just supposed to act like his father? He didn’t think he wanted to do that. 

What he wanted was to do this .

He wanted to talk to Leida. After the talk they’d had last time, he’d come back prepared. He was going to try and figure her out. And he had a plan to help him do that.

He’d spent the entire meal hiding the present he’d brought—wrapped in thick cloth and paper—on his lap, wondering when he should give it to her. This present would help him understand her. Or he hoped it would.

His father would call it a waste of time. But what were they supposed to do? Just eat and talk about boring wedding things? That wouldn’t help him get to know Leida better. And wouldn’t it be better for him to actually get to know the person he was going to marry?

Besides, he was sure Leida was just as bored of all this nonsense as he was. He wondered why she didn’t show it. Make a scene, or pretend to listen and then skip right ahead to the fun part where the two of them could run off from the table and do whatever they wanted.

Maybe it was just an act. Stekan kept thinking that. It was like the detail about her embroidery. It just didn’t suit her. Maybe she only did it because her parents wanted her to.

At least, he hoped that was what it was. Or maybe Leida was really just plain boring, and she actually enjoyed all these dull chats and stuffy dinners. But he hoped not. 

Either way, he wasn’t going to find out unless he talked to her.

He stepped closer to her, trying not to let the look on her face scare him into giving up.

“Hello again”, he said.

Leida eyed him suspiciously, before slowly returning the greeting.

“Hello, Stekan.”

He really did hope he was doing this right. Clearing his throat, he asked her, “So, are you staying for dessert?”

Leida looked over at the adults—her parents and Stekan’s parents—who were passing time between dishes by pouring drinks and talking some more about the wedding. A little party of their own. Not his kind of party, though, Stekan thought. Not Leida’s kind either, he was sure. He could do her one better.

Leida thought for a minute. She looked like she was about to say ‘yes’, when what she really wanted to say was ‘no’. She closed her mouth like she was afraid the wrong words would come out of it.

She flipped the question onto Stekan instead. “Are you staying?”

Stekan shook his head. “No.”

Leida looked at him strangely. Not what she’d wanted him to say. As if he said ‘yes’, it would at least give her a reason to stay too. But he didn’t.

Instead, he said the line he’d been practicing for days: 

“I have something to show you.”

Leida’s face changed. He kept surprising her. Which probably meant he was on the right track. This was supposed to be a surprise.

He took out the present. He’d been hiding it behind his back. He held it in both hands close to himself, so he wouldn’t drop it. He didn’t want it to break.

Leida looked at his face, then at the present in his hands, and then back at his face again. He had her attention, alright.

“What is it?” She asked.

There. Now he had her hooked. He hid the present behind his back again.

“It’s for you”, he said. “I’ll let you have it. But not here.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Don’t you have a room or something?”

Leida blinked at him, once, twice. The question he was asking was obvious.

Was that a bit much? Was he overdoing it? Should he even care? His father probably wouldn’t; he’d tell Stekan to do whatever it took to get what he wanted. But Stekan wasn’t his father, and he didn’t want to scare Leida off.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem scared. Just shocked. Like she couldn’t believe him.

She looked back at the party of grownups again, like she was hoping something would happen that would make her hesitate and stay just a little longer.

Nothing happened.

She tried not to sigh and failed.

And then, she lifted her hand out to him.

“Follow me.”

***

Leida was quite sure her room was tidy last she’d left it, but just in case it wasn’t, she made Stekan wait outside while she went in first. After pushing a few of Tam’s presents under the bed to clear some space on the floor, she popped her head back outside and told Stekan to come in.

She hoped nobody had noticed the two of them sneaking off; for the most part, at least, even though a smaller part of her also wished someone had asked them to stay in the first place. It was a good thing they hadn’t been spotted, but also, why hadn’t someone stopped them?

Leida had wanted to stay for dessert, she really had, and she would’ve, if not for Stekan. She’d wanted to be invited to join. She couldn’t believe how the conversation simply moved on without her. It was like their parents were off in another world, and as much as she wanted to be a part of it, she simply wasn’t. 

Not that Stekan would understand. Although, the idea that he’d brought a present for her helped with her impression of him at least a little. It explained why he’d stared at her so much during dinner. It showed that he cared, even if he wasn’t self-aware enough to know when he was being rude. 

Then again, Leida was really determined to not hate Stekan, so maybe she was giving him far too much credit.

But a present? That had to mean something .

Stekan walked into her room, looking absolutely confused, like he’d just walked onto a different planet. His eyes skirted over the room, taking in the piles of cushions, the veil draped over the back of the couch, Leida’s still half-finished embroidery, and Rin’s forgotten parasol lying partly open on the floor. Leida had always thought her room was decently large, but with the way Stekan stood in it, it seemed massive, and he didn’t seem to fit anywhere in it, standing out amidst all the little details like a piece of furniture that had been moved in from another room. 

He looked completely out of place, but he still held his gift behind him, totally committed to the surprise. 

Leida had to admit that was slightly endearing.

She sat herself down at the foot of her bed, patting the cushions next to her lightly. 

She said to Stekan, “You can come sit over here, if you’d like.”

“Oh”, he managed, and walked rather hurriedly over, before seating himself carefully on the bed next to Leida.

There was a moment of silence.

Leida blinked at Stekan, not sure if she should talk first. She was really hoping he would, so she wouldn’t have to.

It took a while, but Stekan finally got the hint.

Clearing his throat, he started, “My mother said I should bring you a present.” Then, realizing how that sounded—like this was something he’d been forced to do—he corrected himself.

“Well, I mean—I wanted to bring you something, I just didn’t know I was supposed to—. Anyway…The point is, I got you a present.”

Leida watched his face as he stammered out the words and half-formed sentences, noticing the way his eyes were now back to vacant and avoiding all over again.

This was deliciously awkward.

Still, she did want to see what it was all leading up to.

Stekan handed her the gift, lifting it into her hands with caution, and she laid it in her lap as she peeled back the layers of wrapping paper.

As she unwrapped, Stekan continued to talk, saying, “My mother bought a lot of things for me that she said you’d like. But I didn’t like—I didn’t think you’d like any of them. So I told her I’d just give you this instead.”

So he had chosen this gift himself. That made Leida soften a little more. He’d actually tried, at least, to do this himself, and to think about her while he was doing it. There was thought there. There was care.

The last layer of paper flew to the floor as Leida’s fingers felt something underneath it, smooth and heavy, with squared edges.

A box. She tried to lift the lid open, but it wouldn’t budge.

“What is this?”, she asked, confused. Some part of her hoped it wasn’t some kind of prank. That wasn’t Stekan’s idea of a gift, was it?

Stekan lifted his open hands out to her again, as though his slightly-cupped palms held an invisible secret.

“Let me show you.”

***

He slid the lid backwards, and it came off. Leida rolled her eyes slightly as if it was something obvious she should have known.

He winced a little. He hadn’t meant to embarrass her. 

No matter. He took out the contents of the box: tiny metallic plates, the color of the sun, so thin they were almost like glass, with thin markings on them. Markings that formed lines that formed pictures.

“What are these?” Leida asked.

She held one of the plates up to the light. The markings cut through to the other side, and the light shining through the grooves made the lines glow. On Leida’s plate, the lines formed into clusters; a dozen little circles, big and small, with fuzzy edges.

Stekan couldn’t be fully sure what the markings were showing either. The box had been a gift from his father from when he was much too young to touch it without breaking it. The images had been taken from all across the galaxy. There had been a manual inside, explaining the different locations and why they were interesting, but it was gone; maybe he’d torn it to shreds when he was a baby.

But he thought that maybe he could still remember what some of the images were.

“They’re stars”, Stekan realized. 

Leida went quiet, holding the plate in between her fingers, staring at it under the light as if it were a message she was trying to decode.

“They’re beautiful”, she said.

Stekan was glad she thought that. He’d never seen stars up close. He wasn’t even sure if they really looked like that. 

But did it matter, if Leida liked them?

He watched her lift another plate up to the light. It showed a very realistic copy of what water looked like from underneath; a sky full of bubbles. Peeking out from the foam was a strange, giant animal. It had a body like a fat teardrop, little fan-like hands, pockets behind its cheeks that opened to draw in more bubbles, a gaping mouth, big eyes, and little whiskers under its chin.

Leida squinted. “A fish?”

Stekan nodded. “A very big fish.”

Leida traced the little punctures in the metal which were supposed to be scales, watching the way the patterns changed in intensity, as if the fish were multicolored.

“They must be very pretty, too.”

Stekan let himself marvel at that. To Leida, a fish could be beautiful the same way stars were. It was fascinating how she made these kinds of connections. That, to him, was proof she was more than just boring. She was curious; she had a spark. And he wanted to know more about how she saw things. 

This was the kind of thing his father would never understand, Stekan thought. It wasn’t just about marriage. Marriage was boring and strange, like something that didn’t fit in a conversation that would get shoved in anyway. Marriage—Stekan’s marriage to Leida—took up all the air in the room the moment it was mentioned. It made the entire rest of the conversation feel like a business discussion. And Stekan would rather leave those to his father.

What he really wanted was to spend time with Leida. To watch her mind do its work, to see how her ideas moved. He just wanted to exist with her. The rest of the galaxy could be far away, nothing more than drawings on metal plates. 

They could just be here.