These Shattered Stars -- Logs

The great hall of the manse has been bedecked with flowers and strings of little glittery things, gaily and yet at the same time elegantly. A stage of sorts has been erected at one end, and upon it a bower with two throne-like seats, both prettied with ribbons and flowers. Rows of seats are arranged to face the stage, and servants and droids are arranging additional decorations. Huskarls of both Haus Rigg and Haus Jotunsen are making rounds together. All is being made in readiness for the betrothal.

Freyja's work in this is more or less passive; the main center of attention, at least at first, will be the contract of dynastic alliance itself. The children are symbols of that, and will be presented after the reading of the contract (or rather, the ceremonial abridged version; legalise makes the actual documents several hundred standard pages long.) Thus, Freyja once again spends about an hour or two at the mercy of the clothiers and cosmeticist of Haus Rigg. Likely, so does Fafnir.

So far it is more or less identical to the formal dinner of the night before. What complicates things is, of course, the presence of Syf Rigg. The Baron has enforced a strict policy against the media attending the ceremony; this is not a social event. If it is social events that are wanted, then that will be the actual wedding of Freyja and Fafnir in a few years. This is considered a private event between Haus Rigg and Haus Jotunsen, and even if the Balmorran Diamond is in attendance, the Baron does not wish media holographers even remotely running things. And, perhaps more importantly, neither does the Baron's wife.

This has not stopped him from making a subtle statement to the other cantons of Balmorra. The leaders of the other nineteen Balmorran corporations have been invited as well, though it is slightly irregular, as has, of course, Count Mis, who is serving as judge-witness of the contract. The other Balmorran nobles, in the dress appropriate to their race and culture, try to make themselves look proud and approving, though the subtle glances they occasionally give one another indicates that they are not blind to the great changes afoot to the status quo.

There is one point, however, at which something changes.

Zero finishes his shower, and leaves the 'fresher. Instead of finding a page going through his not-luggage, however, it is what he doesn't find: namely, his jacket and shoes. Instead, laid out neatly beside his other clothes, is a matte black coat cut in Balmorran fashion, reaching his knees, with a removable black fur lining; and a pair of black boots, likewise of Balmorran style.

Zero blinks. "This is either a gift... or someone finds me a fashion victim. Wonder where my shoes went..."

Almost as if in answer, there is a knock on the door. "Zero? Are ye decent?"

Zero looks through his satchel just to make sure nothing's actually been stolen, then puts on his clothes, including the boots and coat. "Ah well," he mutters to himself, "Who am I to spurn a hint?" He turns around and calls, "Like it matters at this point... c'mon in."

The door opens, and Piper pokes her smiling head in. "Ah, I see ye're just oot o' th' shower...." She blinks, then, abruptly. "Oh, wau.... Faith, Zero, I'm thinkin' thot ye look verra, verra nice. Th' longcoat certainly suits ye."

Zero grins a little. "Thank you. Your idea?"

Piper grins slightly. "Aye, Freyja's an' mine. We were thinkin' thot Sedraki lass, Maishen, th' other night, looked well enough in Balmorran dress, bu' it dinnae seem fair tae ye to be havin' ye just squeezed intae whot most men 'ere get are wearin'. An', aye, black wi' silver 'ighlights certainly is fit fer ye. 'Sides... ye cut quite th' figure in thot."

Zero smiles, "I see. Well, I'm glad you think so. I may as well look the part for this do, hm? Even if I don't quite understand how she can go along so quietly... I guess I'm just stubborn. Call me a hick, but it's sure different from how I'm used to operating."

Piper closes the door, and leans against the wall behind it. "Well, I'm agreein' thot 'tis an 'ard t'ing tae grasp if ye 'aven't been livin' wi' it in yer culture f'r many a century. But 'tis th' fun o' th' Republic, aye? So many races, so many cultures, each wi' their own way o' doin' t'ings."

Zero says, "Well, at least they let us all do things our own way. Beats living under Empire, for certain."

Piper nods, "Ye wilnae be 'earin' me complainin' aboot thot, f'r certain! Are ye ready? Freyja asked tae see ye afore th' ceremony." She grins. "No doot she's wantin' tae see 'ow ye look alla in black an' silver."

Zero smooths out his coat. "Sure. Lead the way, Piper."

Piper nods, grinning, and in the walk over to the family wing hooks her arm with Zero's if he doesn't complain. She pauses at the door to Freyja's room. "Betcha she's got alla sorts o' folks makin' Hela's own fuss aboot her," she murmurs wryly to Zero, before she knocks on the door.

Zero says, "That seems to be standard procedure around here..."

A frazzled looking young woman opens the door, nods, turns and calls, "It's them, Arving Lady!"

Freyja's voice gleefully calls, "Bring him in, bring him in -- I want to see too, Piper!" There's a shocked gasp, and a young man's voice says, "Arving Lady! Seeing a man not of your haus, before your betrothal?!" Freyja's amused and slightly exasperated voice comes back with, "Oh, please... it's not like we're still doing hair and makeup. I'm covered -- bring him in, I want to see how the clothes fit!"

Piper glances to Zero amusedly, then sidesteps the womana in the doorway. "Thankee, lass. Well, 'ere 'e is, milady!"

Freyja is surrounded by flowers, clothes, serving folk of both sexes and several species, clothes, jewelry, powders, makeup, more clothes, more serving folk... it's rather frantic, and Freyja looks like the arrival of Zero and Piper's saved her sanity.

A tall, elegant woman paces lithely by; that poised, fluid walk could melt an iceberg. Jeweled, belled bracelets jingle softly on slender wrists and ankles; sparkling golden coins sway, mesmerizing as the silken fringe on the richly ornamented sash accentuating the tantalizing sway of supple hips. Swirling henna patterns are painted on feet and hands, highlighted by glittering, delicate gold toe- and finger-rings. Intricately wrought jewelry rivals sumptuous, glossy embroidery on her long, shimmering, silk outer coat and trousers. A luxurious velvet turban is offset with opulent golden pins and sweet-scented garlands of brilliant, beautiful blooms swirling in iridescent loops over slender shoulders. Strong makeup on the carefully impassive face richly defines gleaming lips; adds a refined paleness to high cheekbones -- and luminously outlines familiar but empty ice-blue eyes. Under all that gorgeous, heavy finery... is a mind-numbingly bored Freyja.

Freyja beams with far more animation than one might expect of her in this get-up, "Oh, Zero, you look wonderful!" She bounces lightly on her toes, causing the young servingman to squeak and try to keep her headdress decorations still, as she adds happily to Piper, "You were right -- that touch of lavender in the silver embroidery really does bring out the color of his eyes!"

Zero grins sheepishly, "You look good yourself, Freyja... how're you holding up?"

Freyja's face goes a bit still for a moment -- then she pushes whatever emotion that was away forcefully, "I'm fine, really." She impetuously turns and waves to a sweet-scented, colorful pile of blossoms, "Give me a wreath for him!" A smiling older woman hands her a strand of flowers, but the young man's eyes widen. He breaths in scandalized tones, "Arving lady, a wreath to -- to a, er, non-haus male -- on your betrothal night?!" Freyja goes still for a moment, the wreath in her hands... then lifts her chin and says firmly, "I want to. Zero Satau is my brother -- my brother Padawan!" She steps forward and carefully sets the sweet-smelling wreath of scarlet and golden blooms around Zero's neck.

Freyja smiles at Zero as she does so, standing very still and quiet for a second.

Zero grins sheepishly and bends forward a little; if she upsets that headdress and spends another hour in here, he'll never forgive himself.

Freyja steps back to admire the effect... then adds gaily, "Besides, I'll give one to Master Roakkana too -- my mentor!" The young man still looks shocked, and the older serving woman murmurs comfortably, "Put a cork in it, Buri -- if yer so worried aboot it, make sure to mention it's th'Arving Lady's Padawan broth'r -- an' there woon't be any who think ill then!" The young man blushes and slips away quietly.

Piper grins quietly, leaning against the wall beside the door. She tries not to make out how (relatively) comfortable the uniform of a retainer is compared to what Freyja is getting put into.

Zero says, "Er.. Freyja... what is this?"

Freyja sighs, putting a hand up to rub her face, and two women leap forward, one grabbing gently at Freyja's wrist and the other shielding her face as they both cry, almost as one, "Not that!" and "Remember the makeup!" Freyja winces slightly, then just nods a little tiredly. She smiles quietly, then says, "Well... I hope you like the clothing, Zero. The flowers? They're a gift from the Arving Lady of the Family of Acceptance."

Zero says, "Um... is it okay? I mean, thank you, but, ah..." He indicates the frantic attendants. "I don't want you to get in trouble..."

Piper chuckles a little. "'Tis fine, Zero. 'Tis given as a sign o' good fortune. Usually only ate family and member o' th' haus. It mighta raise some eyebrows, but seein' as ye're bein' considered 'er brother, 'tis fittin'."

Freyja's lips quirk a bit at the corners, but she nods firmly, raising her head with quiet pride, "It is for I and I alone to choose who in my family I share good business and betrothal fortune with, Zero."

Zero nods. "Okay. Well, these Jotunsens don't know how lucky they are."

Freyja blinks, biting her lip for a moment, and smiles a little shakily at Zero. She whispers, "Thank you, Zero... I appreciate that," then takes a deep breath, pulling herself upright under all that heavy garb with an obvious effort. "So... let's get this show on the road, hai? Zero, Piper, can you both make sure Master Roakkana stops by my suite before you both go seat yourselves, please?"

Zero says, "Sure, Freyja. No problem."

Freyja says, "Thanks." She seems almost small for a moment under all the elaborate paraphernalia, as she adds, "I'd appreciate that... I really appreciate that you both came."

Piper nods, "Aye, I'll go an' look for 'im right away! Be back in a bit!" She's out the door in a flash.

Freyja steps forward to gently take one of Zero's hands and smile quietly again. Her voice is very low as she murmurs, "We all man the walls, because if we don't, who would? Each in our own way, Zero, hai?"

Zero smiles; he leans in close and murmurs, "Sounds like the woman I know. Hey, just so you know... I didn't mind it, what Syf said yesterday. Actually... I was kinda flattered."

Freyja grins suddenly, the happier emotion lighting up her face a bit, and turns slightly pink. Her voice is very low also, "I... ah... didn't mind either..." She giggles suddenly, "I hope you didn't mind my answer either!"

Zero smiles and squeezes Freyja's hand gently. "Just don't expect me to follow through on it, hey?"

Freyja laughs aloud! -then grins, "Valhalls, neh! I intend to use a nice, clean artificial womb when that duty comes around due!"

Zero grins, "Don't worry... I certainly won't be forcing that issue." He murmurs, "I'm afraid I'm gonna break something... find me after the ceremony, so I can give you a hug and congratulate you properly, okay?"

One of the serving folk coughs quietly, and Freyja smiles at Zero again, "I should start preparing for the entrance. Take care and enjoy yourself for two tonight, hai?" She pauses... then smiles and leans forward to gently hug him, "You won't, my brother." She sighs quietly, relaxing a bit into the hug.

Zero grins and hugs Freyja as gently as he can. "Okay. We'll be out watching for you."

Freyja finally steps back and grins with quiet mischief, "So... wear the flowers with pride, hai? I think you're the type to enjoy any scandal!"

Zero grins. "Just let them come." He turns to go, "I'm gonna go see where Piper and the Master went. I'll make sure he stops in."

Freyja grins, "Thanks!"

Piper is just coming up to the room with Roakkana in tow as Zero exits the room. The Wookiee offers Zero a raised, inquiring eyebrow.

Zero says, "She wants to see you before she has to go on..." He looks down, "Oh, this? Good luck charm, they tell me." He grins and shrugs. "Local custom. Who am I to buck the system?"

Roakkana grins quietly, and nods. "Well, wear it with pride, then, Zero. This will prove quite an interesting day indeed. Is she in...? Ah, thank you, Kuras Ridomr...."

Piper ushers Roakkana in, then closes the door, remaining the the hallway. She flashes a grin to Zero. "Aye, if m'Pa's rant this morn is any indicat'r, 'twill indeed be interestin'. Seems thot we now 'ave noo less than three o' those 'Mandalorians' under th' roof...."

Freyja is just turning around with flowers in hand, but pauses at sight of the Wookie -- then turns back to the woman helping her with the flowers, "Neh, better give me a longer one, please?" She beams at Master Roakkana a moment later, holding up a wide wreath of the scarlet and amber flowers, "Would you wear these for me, please, Master Roakkana? You're the most important mentor the Arving Lady of the Haus of Acceptance has had -- and you can tell anyone that asks that I said that!"

Zero pulls Piper aside and leans close to murmur in her ear, keeping his expression gentle to give the ubiquitous servants the impression he's flirting; "You say that like you don't think they're genuine... you know something?"

Roakkana enters the rooms, smiling quietly. "You look radiant, child. And I would be honored to, thank you." Without hesitation, he takes the wreath gently and settles it around his neck. "This is a... very, very great honor, child. I will wear them proudly today."

Piper grins wryly, and doesn't really sound disappointed that Zero isn't flirting with her when she answers. "An' 'ow genuine d' ye 'ave tae be tae be Mandalorian? F'r alla we knoo, there be Hutts inside o' them armors they be wearin'. Pa dinnae like th' fact thot both Count Mis an' Baron Isaav saw fit tae bring Mandalorians, not e'en any o' their retainers diplamatically disguised as attendants or somethin'.

Freyja goes still again, getting that slightly shaky expression... then steps foward and carefully hugs the Wookie, very tightly. She mumbles into his fur, "I... I'm doing the right thing, aren't I, Master? It's right to keep one's word... even when it hurts?"

The corners of Zero's mouth twitch; he has a hard time keeping that smile on. He whispers, "No Hutts, them... no armor would keep the stench in. They'd drown in their own lubrication. But it's a hard thing to get that armor if you're not the real thing... but you're right. They have to be spooked to be dragging along all this firepower."

The Wookiee very gently embraces Freyja, enfolding her in his large furred arms and casting a slight glance to the attendants, and discretely ensures his vodor was turned off; he apparently didn't need it with Piper. "Child, there comes a time when I cannot give you any answers; I fear this is one of them, and there will be many more in the future.

"Insofar as keeping your word... yes, it is important to. For those who do not yet see how we are all united together in the Force, there is no other way that we can see reason enough to keep trust with others but for the honor of the words we give. To keep one's word is more than to keep one's honor whole, though that is seen by some as important enough. It is to maintain trust, one of the most vital bonds within the Force that we ourselves can forge consciously with one another.

"You are a good person, child, and I know you would never wish to harm others. I can sense how much this has been gnawing upon you, and no matter how much you say you are comfortable in doing your duty, I sense how much it hurts. But if you ask me wether you should go through with this... I can offer no advice, I fear. I am sorry, child."

Freyja steps back and smiles a little more strongly at the Wookie, "I... I can. Thank you, Master Roakkana. You did, you know... you did give an answer. It's just... just a matter of being strong enough, hai? Besides, if Fhazil and Vakkal can keep their trustworthiness and their words no matter what... then I can too." She shakes her head in tired amusement at the anxious serving folk questioning her and tidying up her clothing, "Neh, neh, I'm not about to cry, I won't smudge anything..."

She takes a deep breath, then salutes the Wookie in the formal Balmorran fashion. She grins tiredly, adding, "Which is not to say I won't be very happy to be a simple Padawan in a few weeks... but for now... I can face revenants and Sith lords... I can do this too."

I think. I hope. Neh... I will.

Piper grins a little, laughing quietly. "Aye; I've 'ad th' misfortune tae meet an Hutt once. Not somethin' I'd be willin' tae go t'rough agin." Her breath lightly tickles Zero's cheek. "Aye, they're spook'd, an' enough tae be willin tae slight th' verra laird o' the haus they're visitin'. Wether they're genuine or nae, 'tis gotten many a folk inna tiff. Pa's takin' some extra-special precautions, alla th' same. 'E 'as some o' 'is folk in th' rafters, so tae speak, keepin' eyes on th' bodyguards. An' 'e dosnae care if'n th' blighters knoo it 'r not."

Zero murmurs, "We're going to be there; don't you worry, I promise you if they have the stones to dare try something foolish, Vakkal and I have something that will cut Mandalorian iron just the same as everyone else's. I promise you. They mess this up and they'll not be walking out of here."

Piper grins, and Zero feels Piper brush lips against his cheek. "Thankee, Zero, lad. I'm nary worried, not wi' ye and Vakkal an yon Roakkana around tae keep an eye on Freyja." She straightens, and nods down the corridor with an impish grin. "C'mon. Let's get tae our places f'r th' ceremony."

Zero grins, and straightens up. "We're gonna go get seated, Master... we'll save you a place."

The great hall is already mostly crowded by the time the three get down there. Once again, a great deal of wealth is present, more than Zero has seen before, and not in the least due to the ninteen high-powered corporate nobles who occupy strategically-assigned positions in the audience. There is some conversations, but the nobles and their retunues -- the Mandalorians remain near the back, and in the corners, with a huskarl or two nearby each one -- tend to keep to themselves; there's almost the sense that they are politely ignoring each other while they suffer some sort of punishment.

Not long after they are seated, the majordomo announces that the ceremony will begin shortly.

Forsetti and Erde Rigg appear on the stage, then, holding hands. "My friends and fellow nobles, gentlefolk all," the Baron says. "I welcome you to Haus Rigg for the occasion of the sealing of a dynastic alliance by the traditional and time-honored means of the betrothal of our children. May I present our governor and first amongst equals, Count Mis Thullakazhan, the judge-witness of the contract."

Count Mis steps somberly up to the stage. He is light of build for a Trandoshan, but his scales are an elegant (and no doubt touched-up) shade of emerald green. He manages to speek Aurabesh without any accent whatsoever, without the use of a voder (though he does tend to draw out the 's's a little.)

"Thank you, Baron Rigg. Fellow nobless, it is an honor for me to witnesss the union of thesse two noble housess. Dynasstic alliance hass been a tradition, I am told, amongsst the Balmorran Humanss for millenia, and continuess to thiss day...."

Count Mis doesn't speak for much longer, instead briefly describing Baron Rigg's holdings of Cyteller Automaton, and manages to avoid much flowery language.

Then Stromvalt Jotunsen is introduced. Jotunsen is aged for a human, much older than Forsetti Rigg, and much of the strength that he once had is still visible but only that he once was such. Still, he stands tall, and doesn't need to lean all that much on Brynhilde von Buus's arm as she stands with him. For those who did not know, which is unlikely in this room, Stromvalt Jotunsen is introduced as the lord of Balmorra's moon, and the provider of just about all of Balmorra's food needs for the stunning variety of species which live there. And, as Count Mis notes, nobody has ever, ever complained about Balmorran food, a not insignificant achievement.

Freyja studies the older man silently... and quietly hopes this ceremony, wearing as it can be, helps Leif's father perk up a bit and come out of his shell somewhat.

Count Mis then has his charge d'affairs, Lord Kul, read the contract of the alliance. It's almost obvious that it is an abridged document, though he reads it with all due gravity all the same.

When Kul finishes reading it, Mis turns first to Baron Rigg. "My Lord Baron, do you approve of the termss of the contract?"

Forsetti draws himself up, and nods firmly. "I do!"

Mis then turns to Jotunsen. "And you, Sstromvalt, do you approve of the termss of the contract?"

The elder human lifts up his head slightly, his eyes glittering a little. In a voice that sounds far, far stronger than he looks, he says, "I do, my Lord Count."

"Then let the betrothed be brought forth. Freyja Rigg, Arving Lady of Hauss Rigg, daughter of Baron Forssetti and Baronesss Erde."

Freyja paces out slowly as she's rehearsed. The movements are so slow and ritualized as to almost be a ceremonial dance... the pause, the courtesies to family, to the other family, to the witnesses... she finishes her part and waits for the next person to deliver their lines, almost dreaming through it to hold her serenity together.

Zero sits next to Piper out in the audience with arms folded, and keeps the corner of his eye on at least one Mandalorian. He listens in silence to the ceremony. Ritual... never had any use for ritual. It's all... it's all fake. A show. Nobody means any of this... it's all for the sake of money. And she's just... acceding to it. He sighs a little, feeling somehow put out, like he should be doing something; as if it's touching a chord with his deeply-ingrained sense of independence. Then, a quieter, more chiding voice adds, Before you go on in this vein of Sedraki martial pride, Zero... I guess the real question is does that make her stronger than you for sticking to it in the face of all that... because it's what she has to do. He finds he either can't answer that right away, or simply guiltily already knows the answer, that she's far tougher than he is, to submit to this. I'm lucky to know her, he muses, and goes back to surveillance of the retainers.

There are some murmurs around where Zero and Roakkana are seated, when some of those more in the know about Balmorran customs see that the wreaths both wear are from the train of flowers that adorns Freyja. There is quite a hubub of muted whispers, but none that would incur a harsh glance from the majordomo. At least, not yet.

The Rigg majordomo recites Freyja's ancestry -- it's rather impressive, actually, and in some places some generations are purposely skipped in order to include, of course, the founder of the Rigg dynasty, Jehan Rigg, some four thousand years before the Republic was founded. Vakkal somehow manages to appear very discretely behind the pavilion.

Freyja looks almost glassy-eyed throughout the geneaology, although she does focus slightly when she notices the large brownish Wookie and the Humans next to him. For just a fraction of a second there might be a hint of a faint smile at the corner of her gleamingly made-up lips... and then she slides back into her protective shell as the ceremony continues onwards.

Baron Rigg, with remarkable gentleness, gently takes Freyja's hand, raising her up to her seat in the pavilion, with an expression softer and gentler than any she has perhaps seen him give her before.

Once Freyja is seated, Mis turns to Jotunsen. "And now, Fafnir Leif-Kreil Jotunssen, Arving Lord of Hauss Jotunssen, son of Stromvalt Odann and the Lady Freyja-Hiordiss."

Freyja steps up slowly to the pavilion, cautious not to step on any of the numerous trailing bits of clothing, blossoms, or jewelry, leaning a bit on the helping hand in spite of herself... she feels very strange inside at the expression on her father's face, but almost in fright pushes that thought aside as too much to cope with just now. Her face is carefully, serenely expressionless when she once again faces the audience.

Fafnir walks down the aisle, now, in much the same way as Freyja, the first time Zero has seen him. In a coat and trousers of white muslin, elegantly embroidered and with a garland of flowers, he bows to his parents and then to the Riggs, then to Count Mis. It is Brynhilde who takes his hand and raises -- perhaps the traditional term would be 'installs' -- him to the pavillion.

Well, thinks Zero, Could have been worse, I suppose.

Freyja is utterly still, like an empty-eyed statue, as the young man settles next to her.

Mis spreads his hands. "My Lord Baron, is the Arving Lord Fafnir ssuitable in your eyess for the ssealing of the dynastic alliance."

"He is, my Lord Count."

"Stromvalt Jotunssen, is the Arving Lady Freyja ssuitable in your eyess for the ssealing of the dynastic alliance?"

Again, that odd paradox of a weak body but an iron-strong voice. "She is, my Lord Count!"

The majordomo presents a bowl with lunae-honey wine first to Freyja, as the Count recites a long formula, declaring the arrangement of the contract to be applicable to both parties, as first Baron Rigg signs the contract with an ancient, or at least antiquated, pen with real ink.

Freyja gently shakes back the bracelets and sleeves of her outer coat before carefully accepting the bowl on both outstretched palms. She ritually waits until her father signs, then takes a slow sip of the sweet wine, eyes half closed. As the signing ceremony continues, she turns and offers the bowl to the young man, slowly enough that he's not rushed either.

Freyja folds her hands neatly into her lap, settled cross-legged with her head held high and her back very straight on the thick, ornate cushion, watching the last person sign the contract. She has a momentary flash of inner panic as the pen approaches the parchment for the last time -- but she ruthlessly suppresses it, tightening her fingers together so they don't visibly shake. She agreed to this -- she recognized it as her duty. Running out screaming like a child would be a betrayal not only of her own and her family's honor... but also of her promises to the people around her and those dear to her.

Zero fights back an urge to stand up suddenly; he feels suddenly tense. I felt that... Gods below. Easy, Freyja, nearly done with now.

Fafnir accepts the bowl equally slowly, the multiple, slender gold bracelets on his wrists jingling slightly; he seems to also be in a sort of autopilot. He glances to his father as Brynhilde escorts him to the table with the contract. There is a moment... then two, as the Stromvalt pauses before signing, and there is the slightest of murmurs in the audience. As soon as the murmuring becomes audible, Odann Jotunsen looks sharply up at the audience, then signs without any further hesitation -- almost sharply, in fact, and when he stands and steps back needs no support from von Buus.

Fafnir gives an almost inaudible sigh, and drinks from the bowl as well (but only, as Freyja can see, with the smallest of sips.) One of the majordomo's assistants makes the bowl disappear, as the majordomo himself ceremoniously wraps a flower wreath around the two's clasped hands.

"And sso," Count Mis says finally, "before me this day at this hour, as governor of Balmorra, first amongst equals of the moot of Balmorran nobles, I recognize and bear witness to this sealing of dynastic alliance. Henceforth will the holdings of Haus Rigg and Haus Jotunsen be combined according to the precepts set down by the Balmorran Chamber of Commerce, and the two houses combined according to those of the Constitution of the Government of the Balmorra Cantons." There is a smattering of polite applause from the corporate noble -- which is drowned out by the applause from the families and cousins and members of the households. And it is done.

Freyja takes a slow, careful, deep breath, letting her eyes almost close so all the staring faces turn into a blurry smear of color... then lets it out equally slowly. She shivers slightly, internally as some of the screamingly nervous tension seeps slowly out of her... and all she can think is a dully tired, it's done.

There is a general mingling, then, as gifts and presents to the newly-betrothed are laid on the steps to the pavilion. Many people go up to the two -- so many they all blur into a single, indistinct face -- introduce themselves to the two, paying their respects and bestowing their gifts personally to the two.

The corporate nobles likewise pay their respects, and those, at least, are a little more recognizable, since not only are none of them Human but each has a sudden influx of animation and attempts to outdo the others in compliments and congratulations to the betrothed.

Piper lets out a breath. "Wau. An' so thot's done wit'. An' now, o' course, comes th' 'ard part.." She glances to Zero, and offers him a quiet smile. "She's nary any different, lad. This willna be changin' anythin' between ye an' her. I'd ev'n go so far as tae say, 'twould take more'n this tae do thot."

Freyja studies the two hands clasped, with flowers wrapped around them... she feels terribly detached, but also weirdly aware she's not going to be able to hold that detachment... falling gradually back into reality, with slowly increasing speed and turbulence, as if she's plummeting to the planet from orbit. Seem like nice hands... strong hands, hai? Pretty flowers... smell nice... It's almost a shock to be torn away from that into mouthing the same smilingly delivered ritual phrases of thanks and gratitude and honor repeatedly... a shock, but also a relief. Tradition means she doesn't have to think... just follow the ritual, don't think, just act... thinking's a little too much just now...

Zero turns a bit toward Piper, "What makes you say that?"

Piper makes a quiet sound, shaking her head and still smiling as she looks up at the pavillion. "Jus' thot I know ye an' her are close... an' I know how seein' someone goin' t'rough somethin' like this can... suddenly seem like 'e or she is suddenly someone else entirely."

Zero shakes his head. "Honestly? I'm more worried for her sake than mine. There's nothing any of us really can do for her but be the same friends she's always known. A little constancy goes a long way."

Piper looks at Zero a bit, and her smile becomes warmer. "Aye. I'm seein' whot ye mean. Constancy. Aye, that'll be good f'r her."

Zero says, "Actually... now that you mention it, I'm curious what you meant about her and I being close."

Piper hmms? then grins and reaches up to lightly touch the wreath. "Is it nae obvious? Ye doan get 'anded one o' these if ye'r jus' a passin' 'quaintance, Zero. Ye an' Mast'r Roakkana both, ye'r somethin' special tae 'er. An', I wager, she's somethin' special tae ye both, as well."

The gifting and presenting goes on for quite some time, and somewhere in there the majordomo announces

Zero says, "Yeah.. of course. I was just... curious, to see if it was more than just Syf that thought we were..." He trails off. "You know."

Piper chuckles softly. "Och, she did not suggest such a t'ing, did she? Faith, what a t'ing tae say!"

Zero smirks a little at Piper, "You say that like being with me's a bad thing."

Piper smirks right back. "Am not, lad. 'Tis just I dinnae expect tae 'ear such a t'ing from the lass."

Zero grins. "I dunno. Syf strikes me as a little... oblivious, to things like that." He shakes his head. "But... we'll talk about the other thing later. C'mon, let's go congratulate Freyja."

Piper stifles a laugh. "I imagine thot's one way o' puttin' it. Aye, let's up an' do so!"

Roakkana and the two Jedi from the Balmorran chapterhouse who had been attending the welcoming dinner two nights before approach the dias, and as one bows, Roakkana with a merry glint in his eye and the other two with slightly more somber expressions. Those who are immediately around the pavilion quiet slightly, though there is no particular move towards a full silence around the hall. "On behalf of the Jedi Order," Roakkana says warmly through his vodor, smiling, "we wish the very best to you both, and express our hopes for a peaceful and prosperous future. May the Force guide you and keep you both from ill."

Zero waits his turn with Piper, strolling up at Roakkana's side to join the little Jedi delegation.

Freyja, still looking a bit out of it, smiles more warmly to her Master than she has to most of those present. She murmurs quietly, "Thank you, Master Roakkana, on behalf of both of us." Her smile stays genuine as she notices Zero and Piper as well.

Zero grins, "Congratulations... well done, Freyja."

Even Fafnir manages to break out of his autopilot mode somewhat, as he realizes just who is standing there. He relaxes a little bit as he realizes that here, at least, are not going to be more empty-sounding verbosity.

Freyja gives a small chuff of half-startled amusement, then grins at Zero. She glances around cautiously, just her eyes moving, then gets a mischievous look and mutters half under her breath, so only people as close as Zero and Roakkana can hear, "E chuta -- Zero!" then giggles softly.

Freyja adds dryly, "At least I didn't panic and run."

Zero catches the sudden relaxation in Fafnir, and grins lopsidedly. Now that I think about it, I almost feel sorry for him... here I stand, sabre in hand, and damn well dressed; I lead the kind of life kids on Sedrak dream about. And this poor guy had... this... to look forward to. At least Freyja can come back to the Order... Freyja's sudden lapse into Hutt shakes him back into the present, and he smirks and asks, "Pardon me?"

Piper blinks, then stifles a laugh, almost having to physically hold her mouth closed.

Freyja giggles again, "Sorry, sorry... I couldn't think of anything less ritualized to say hi with!" She adds cheerfully, although still very softly, "Hey, I could have recited Hutt recipes at you... very short, and they sound as disgusting as what they mean!"

Zero grins, "You know a 'hello' would have sufficed."

Freyja laughs softly, "Oh, fine, fine, be that way, if that's what you want." She pauses, sliding into ritual, then murmurs, "Ah, greetings, honored Satau of Sedrak, you gladden us with your presence!" then smiles a bit ruefully.

Freyja adds with an amused glance, "Sure you don't want the Hutt?"

Zero winces, "Oi, Freyja... how about... 'hi there'?"

Freyja giggles again, relaxing a bit.

The gifting and presenting goes on for quite some time, and somewhere in there the majordomo announces that the formal dinner in the dining hall will be served shortly.

Freyja lies in bed, awake, for a very, very long time, listening to the house slowly settle and fall silent around her. Time passes... and passes... and the tense young woman finally sighs, realizing it'll be a while before she sleeps. She's just still too wound up about the betrothal ceremony to relax yet. She feels... very... strange... but she's not sure exactly how or why. She just knows she doesn't feel like she's sure any more who she is.

Freyja finally decides to go on a ride. Perhaps the chill night air and a big, powerful slaypneer carrying her effortlessly wherever she wills, will help her pretend there's nothing complex in her life... and will help her clear her head. She rises very, very quietly, with the practice of childhood. A bolster tucked into the bed to fool the servant who sleeps in her room, a handful of clothing, the huge fur off her bed, her cloak... she tiptoes as silently as she can out of the room, freezing once when the servant sighs and turns over... waiting tensely for her breathing to become regular again... then finally through the bedroom door. She pauses long enough to pull her trousers on, then rolls everything up into the geri-cat fur... then to tiptoe past Vakkal in the outermost room of the suite, and she'll be safely out in the hallway.

Hm. No Vakkal in the room -- he must be walking rounds in the wing. She checks the time, waiting until she can sneak past where he's supposed to be. A few minutes later she leans against the hallway wall of the main wing and gives a small, relieved, chuffing sigh. Vakkal was the one she was most worried about alerting, with his sharper senses... and somehow she doesn't think it'd be fair to drag him out in the cold and dark, just because she... feels funny... she pats the heads of the gathering, inquisitive house frehkees and whispers, "Good girls, good boys, you stay here now... don't want all the kennel frehkees yowling jealously at you and waking everyone up!" Then she pulls on her boots, tucks the rolled up fur under one arm, and patters happily down the stairs and out the back. Her cream-colored sleeping tunic drifts billowingly out behind her, making her look like a pale flame running quietly through the house.

Vakkal very carefully peers around the corner at the apparition which glides from the family wing. His first hint had been the soft tic-tic-tic of several of the house frehkees, their claws tapping upon the floor. Freyja's barely-heard admonition to the frehkees lets him know at least a bit of what is going on. He frets a little, then nods, and quietly steps around the corner to follow Freyja. There's no house rules against Freyja going out, of course -- going out alone is another matter entirely, what with the heightened security of late, especially with the Jotunsen entourage still in residence.

He starts down the hallway to the stairs -- and stops a bit as he sees the several large, burly frehkees turn as one in his direction, Stein in the forefront. One gives a faint, chirbling, "...moof."

"Uh," he murmurs, "-excuse me..." edging around the frehkees. They watch his movements carefully. He still hasn't figured out just how the frehkees feel about him; studying them, he sees that they haven't either. But they make no sound as he trails quietly after Freyja. Down on the ground level he peers through the window to the door she left through. He pauses there, watching her enter the barn but not yet stepping outside.

Freyja sighs happily as she slips into the barn, enjoying the chill night breeze. She breathes deeply the comforting scents of slightly dusty bedding, rich-scented hay, warm and well-cared-for slaypneer, and the occasional sweet tang of the molasses occasionally used when the slaypneers need high-energy food. She's very quiet here as well, not wishing to awaken the barn help... she drifts to Torden's stall door, then whispers the big gelding's name. She can hear a quiet mumble... then the sudden rustle as he heaves himself to his feet. She takes the bridle and a hobble into the stall with her, then tosses the fur over the slaypneer's back as a warm, impromptu blanket/bareback pad. A moment to bridle the bemused but calmly trusting Torden, and then she slips out the back with him, careful to avoid the 'crete flooring so his shod cloven hooves don't clop loudly.

Freyja leads him over to a mounting block and scrambles lithely up, then sighs happily again, gathering up the reins and patting Torden quietly on the shoulder. "Good boy... I promise you'll get a treat when we get back, all right?" She clicks lightly with her tongue to Torden, and nudges with one heel... and a moment later the big pale slaypneer and his rider slip off into the darkness, like one of the ethereal Aelfar of Balmorran myth heading for the dreaming forest.

Vakkal makes that tch-equivalent quiet sound, then quietly slips off the dress jacket as he steps outside. It's a little chilly, but he feels reasonably comfortable; it will keep him from overheating. He starts out at a trot after the riding woman, rolling the jacket into a tidy roll before fastening it to his belt. Then he runs, as quietly and quickly as he can, keeping well away from Freyja so as not to spook her or Torden, letting her have her time to herself.

Freyja keeps Torden at a slow jog, not only so she can ride comfortably, but also so neither of them are surprised by branches along the path. Neither of them having night sight; she doesn't want any accidents. Also, while the leather back of the huge geri-cat fur she's sitting on won't easily slip off Torden... it's not girthed on either. She sways comfortably back and forth with Torden's weaving form, as he follows the narrow, twisting path through the dark forest. She'll pull him to a halt once, just to sit silently and savor the quiet sounds of the forest -- the soft whisper of the night breeze lightly touching her cheek and gently ruffling her hair with cold, wispy fingers... the distant rustles and calls of the small night creatures that live in the spreading forests of the Rigg estate... once maybe even a distant crashing from one of the few larger creatures. Probably one of the huge and grumpy gullinbursts, she thinks, since there's no squealing, and the sound quiets soon thereafter.

Vakkal stops as well when she does, and blinks, a little worried. No, that crashing was most assuredly not him. What was it that Freyja called them? Gullinbursts? The big ones. And here he is, with only a Haus-supplied dress sporting blaster at his side. Wolf-feathers. The Balmorran expletive cheers him a little, as he considers what he would look like with a bustle of feathers, before returning his attention to Freyja. At least they are not charging hither and yon, and he doesn't have to run like a madman through the darkness. With his ears cocked for anything larger than a rattatosk, he follows along behind his charge.

Freyja leans forward for a moment, quietly hugging the big gelding's neck. The rough, thick fur and the warm, rich scent of slaypneer brings back a burst of sensory memories very sharply, almost painfully -- some wonderful, others not. She swallows, sitting back up, gathering up the reins, and nudging Torden on again with one heel. "C'mon, big guy... we'll let you graze on the hill, how's that?"

Freyja comes out of the forest by the narrow, grassy banks of the river. The drifting night breeze is a more insistent, cold wind from the lake here, lightly riffling the river into dark, barely gleaming wavelets. She pulls on her cloak to stay warm, then pushes Torden into a slow, easy canter, so there's plenty of time to react if something should suddenly loom out of the darkness at them. She rides easily, enjoying the sway and surge of the muscles of the powerful slaypneer she's astride, and at some point she laughs again for the sheer joy of the moment.

She ends up dropping the reins and spreading her arms out, the cloak billowing like wings behind her, her head tossed back... moments like this she almost believes in the wild warrior women of the Valhalls, believes that if she just knew the magic words, or the perfect charm, or whatever... the heavy thunder of hooves would eventually lighten, even if the surging power did not... and looking down she'd see the planet falling away from her, and clouds reaching to claim her in her ascent... life would be so simple then...

The canid Sith grimaces a little, pausing at the edge of the forest. Walking out in the open would likely alert Torden and her that he was there. On the other hand, if Something Happened (Magnussen always seemed to verbally capitalize that phrase) and he stayed in the forest, then he would be too far away for any reaction. And it is not his job to make risk assessments. He grimaces and pulls on the jacket again, leaving it open for the time being. He remains close to the ground, moving relatively slowly compared to Torden. The terrain is mostly flat, but he keeps to whatever shadows there are.

As he pulls on the jacket, he feels the encrypted comlink clipped to the forearm. One quick, specific touch and the ready team of house troops would converge on his position on foot and in air speeders. Though it was never mentioned to him specifically, he thinks the comlinks have a constant signal relayed to the security office of the manse... which leads him to wonder how many late-night journeys outside the manse has Freyja taken in her stays at home, that the huskarls know of but have politely let happen without saying a word, letting the young arving lady -- he was told the title means 'inheritor' -- settle her thoughts on slaypneer-back?

Too much thinking -- not enough moving! Freyja is already well ahead, and he tries to keep going quickly while keeping to what few shadows there are. He's fortunate Freyja isn't looking behind her, her mind -- what in the world is she doing, riding with no hands on the reins?! -- far, far and away from Balmorra, and the spectacle that was made of her not earlier than the evening before.

Freyja gets to the hill, and... no flight yet, ah, well... perhaps she'll become one of the Valkerries later. She smiles wryly at herself, gathering up the reins so they don't flop annoyingly. The big gelding's heavy breathing turns into occasional determined snorts as he plunges up the hill, trying not to slacken his pace at all. A moment later he's dancing lightly around on the hilltop, gently pulled up, panting but still excited and wanting to continue even faster down the other side.

Freyja grins, her legs firmly settling her on the big gelding, crooning soothingly to him and stroking his powerful, arched neck until he calms down. "There now... easy, beautiful. I promise I won't go join the Valkerries without you, how's that, hey?" She grins at herself, then sighs quietly.

The sight of the hill makes Vakkal groan silently. The soldier in him hates hills -- there's a reason some of the military philosophers number hills amongst the 'death grounds.' The member of his people in him hates hills -- hills in the jungles and rainforests of his home world are hideously difficult to navigate. The grasses holding the soil to them have a habit of giving way unexpectedly. And the Sith in him hates hills -- just to not be contrary with the rest of himself. Still, where Freyja is, there will he be as well. If only nearby.

Fortunately, the hill provides some cover for his approach, though he realizes that no matter how stealthy he is the slaypneer will sense him. He wonders idly and briefly if some slaypneers were made aware of the Force, as the Darkside alchemists made the Korriban hounds aware, as he quietly approaches the base of the hill. He finds a nice-sized rock about a third of the way up, and remains quietly behind it, looking down the way both Freyja and he came, his ears perked alertly. From the top of the hill the back of his head and his swiveling ears would be rather easily seen, but at least he can give Freyja some privacy.

Torden slowly starts to calm, his huge chest taking in gusts of air. When he finally calms, he tosses his head a little, giving a soft grunt; then his ears perk and he looks back along the way they came. His ears swivel restlessly, and he holds relatively still. Freyja smiles, pleased he's calmed, and slips off quickly. She tugs the big fur off with her, leaving it on the grass behind her, and hastily hobbles Torden's near front hoof to his far hind. Then she slides smoothly and quietly around him, one hand always on him for reassurance, and slips the bit out of his mouth, so he can graze more comfortably. The reins she neatly knots up around his neck, so they don't trail where a cloven hoof can come down on them.

Freyja pauses for a second as she's slipping the bridle more comfortably around Torden's head, and looks where he's interestedly gazing. It doesn't take much effort -- having a slaypneer, in effect, tell you where to look makes noticing things easy. She studies the familiar silhouette of pricked ears on that furred head... then grins. She pats Torden on the shoulder, "Good boy... smart boy. You relax a bit, hai?" then turns and picks up the big fur. It's from an animal that's easily almost as big as the slaypneer when she unrolls it around herself... she grins and calls quietly, "So... would you rather sit there, or up here?"

The two ears stand straight upright, and Vakkal swivels his head around. No wonder Fhazil almost got ganked on Marnaas by these two, with her eyes... "I had no desire to interrupt you, Freyja," he replies quietly, his voice carrying on the night air. Slaypneers: Force aware or not? He glances up to where the slaypneer is studying him. Ask another time, maybe, he thinks, and looks again to Freyja. "I hope I'm not disturbing you..."

Freyja grins, standing with the fur partially wrapped around her against the increasing cold of the night. It gives her a peculiar, lumpy, heavily furred silhouette. She shakes her head, making the fur sort of ripple and shiver peculiarly, "Neh, Vakkal, you're not interrupting me. I came out to think, that's all. I, uhm... I'm not even exactly sure what about, to be honest. I just... well, felt really funny inside, and didn't think it was polite to drag someone else out in the cold just because of that."

Vakkal nods and stands. "I do not mind. The weather is fine for me. My people deal with cold very well."

Freyja laughs softly, then nods, "I guess I should have realized that." She sits and pats the fur next to her, "Come sit, if you like?"

Vakkal smiles quietly and inclines his head. "Certainly." He pads up the hill quietly, careful to not touch Torden -- some very loyal riding creatures get very sensitive about who touches them, and unlike the frehkees Torden hasn't gone through the entire manse, tracking him, to see what he's like. He settles himself down gently upon the fur beside Freyja.

Freyja takes a moment to make sure there's enough fur free for Vakkal too... then slightly startledly murmurs, "Ooh! You're warm!" and curls up next to him, "May I share?"

He blinks a bit in surprise. Well, of course he's warm, he's -- oh! "Oh, if you want to, Freyja, sure. I keep forgetting, Humans don't have anything between them and the elements, usually."

Freyja grins a little sheepishly, "Sorry. If it's uncomfortable, just say something and I won't push." She settles then, and falls silent, just watching the distant stars twinkling, wrapped in the fur with Vakkal against the cold.

Time passes... the wind whisks by, the river rolls slowly and sinuously past, the slaypneer crops with contented, methodical bites... and finally there's a small whisper next to him, "Vakkal... are you ever afraid?"

He's quiet for a few moments, then Freyja feels him nod a little. "It's part of being a Sith," he says softly, "-and of being a soldier, for less metaphysical reasons. Yes... I can be afraid." Freyja sighs softly, relaxing a bit.

She's still gazing out at the stars as she murmurs quietly a few moments later, "In a way, you put your life in my hands by coming to the Republic with me. Does that ever scare you?"

Another pause. "Yes. Sometimes it does. If not for your protection I am all but in the hands of the enemy. I know you will do all you can to see that does not happen... but I worry about what will happen if others, who do not respect you, would come to take me. I try to use my fear as a source of strength. If I am afraid of capture, then surely my enemy fears me as well, and I may turn their fear upon them, even as I draw upon my own fear for strength. The primal urge -- never be trapped, never be killed, never be taken -- can fuel much, when one is in dire enough straits.

"But sometimes... even saying that to myself is not enough. And so I draw strength from my oath. If the soldiers of the Republic, if the Jedi, even the Templars came for me, I know that you would do all that you can to keep that from happening, and if either of us survived -- and I would hope that at least you would -- then perhaps a skald might sing of the battle that day, and that song might reach the fortresses of Ziost, and some night it might ring through the halls..."

Freyja is silent for a long moment... then turns her face to rest her head against his shoulder. Vakkal remains sitting there, though she feels his head turn slightly so he can peer at her. "But in all that, I do not regret this. I never have. I never shall. No matter what your quest might be, it is an honor for me to join you in it, and to be part of your and Zero's travels."

Freyja murmurs finally, "I... there are people that were looking at me tonight, that I could just see... they saw someone strong and wise and -- and determined and strong... I could see they depended on me, I was important to them, they needed me! -and... and I can't help but think, can't you see how... how small I am? How can you depend on someone that's all... all patches and tatterdemalion..." Her voice trails off uncertainly, and she closes her eyes, feeling the weird urge to... almost to cry in frustration that she's not as wonderful as the needs of all those depending on her demand.

Freyja sighs shakily after a long moment, and whispers, "So... so I wondered if you were ever afraid too... of... of letting down the people you care the most about..."

Vakkal pauses for a few moments, then a gentle arm comes across her shoulders. "I do," he says softly. "I left my family a long time ago, Freyja, but when I was with them I was afraid of letting them and my entire clan down in the hunts. When... when I left them and became apprentice to Lord Ghang, and Fhazil came... I feared, too, letting them down, because they had become the people I most care about. And to that number now are you, and I would fear letting you down as well."

Freyja sighs softly, relaxing a bit more. "I... I was worried it was just me... that no one else was ever afraid." Her small laugh is self-disparaging, "I know, in retrospect it sounds stupid, but... well... tonight was..." she shivers in spite of herself, then finishes a bit wearily, "...overwhelming..."

He shakes his head in the darkness. "For all of what we are," he says, "-Sith are always afraid, on some level. We... just express it differently. We use it differently. In ways that no Lightsider should." He pauses a little. "I felt... for a moment there, a surge of panic from you, when the Stromvalt hesitated on the signing, I think. I could not have been the only Force-aware there who sensed it."

Freyja blinks, then goes still. Finally she murmurs with embarrassment, "I'm sorry, Vakkal... that's a dumb thing to be sharing -- me being panicked." She pauses, then blinks again and says in an entirely different, alertly interested tone of voice, "Wait... there was a connection!? How cool!!" She pauses again, then says with embarrassment, "Oh, dear... all the Force aware?" She hides her face against Vakkal's shoulder and mumbles, "Hope that doesn't get out..."

He blinks a little. "I think part of it was our... familiarity. I would imagine that the other Jedi, except for Master Roakkana, would have to be a bit closer..."

Freyja mumbles muffledly, "Hope so..." Unhappily she adds, "It was just a panic attack. It didn't even occur to me that I might broadcast..."

Vakkal shakes his head, "Don't worry about it now. The only ones in that room who could have sensed it were the Jedi and myself. And I doubt the Jedi of Balmorra, whom Master Roakkana seems to hold in at least some regard, will be saying anything to anyone about it." He pauses. "To be honest, I was starting to get... a little concerned when the Stromvalt did not immediately sign."

Freyja sighs, then nods, "I wondered a bit about that myself, later... although I didn't realize at the time what he was doing. I just had this... weird feeling that if he signed, then that was it -- I was caught." She flushes slightly, adding, "I know... it doesn't make sense. It was just a stupid, irrational, panicky thought, that's all."

Vakkal smiles quietly, though it's not immediately visible. "Not at all. You entered a new phase of your life, one that has been made much of. The betrothal of Haus Rigg's and Haus Jotunsen's scions. The establishment of a dynastic alliance which will place Haus Rigg in Balmorran histories for the furthest future."

"And yet... you went to bed tonight, after the ceremonies. You were fussed over as usual, settled in. You didn't feel different. You didn't feel changed. You hadn't done anything extraordinary. There was nothing to mark the passage except for a ceremony for which your mind, I must say, was admirably blank the entire time -- that much I could feel through the connection with you. In short, something had happened... and yet, nothing had." He pauses for a moment -- is it an uncomfortable silence? Then he asks, "Was that how it was for you?"

Freyja nods unhappily, "Well... hai. I guess... I guess that's partly what scares me, Vakkal. I mean, I can see people looking at me differently -- Hela, my father actually looked... I don't know... almost proud of me! I... I'm not sure I really am that person, you know? But... if I'm not really the Arving lady and the betrothed of Fafnir Jotunsen and one of the persons responsible for my haus and all her people... am I faking it? Who am I, really? I mean..." she fumbles frustratedly for words for concepts she's never had to verbalize before, "-well... can someone be all those things, and still be a real person in their own right? How do you keep from being eaten up alive by the expectations and needs of others?"

Vakkal pauses again, looking out into the night. "There comes a point," he says quietly, "-when you have to live for the person you are, rather than for the person that others want you to be. And part of that is being who you are. You are... Freyja Rigg. Part of being Freyja Rigg is being Arving Lady of Haus Rigg, betrothed of Fafnir Jotunsen, future Baroness Rigg... but they are a part of you, not you a part of them."

"I am almost afraid to give you any advice, Freyja. I am a Sith, a Darksider, and we have... ways of looking at the universe that are... sometimes at odds with how Lightsiders view things. But I think that any Lightsider would tell you that the titles, the roles, are you, but that you are not your titles and roles."

Freyja smiles quietly, turning her head slightly where it rests against Vakkal to look at the stars again. Softly, musingly, she says, "Master Roakkana said that too... that he couldn't really tell me what to do." She's silent for a moment, then sighs gustily, relaxing against the sturdy dog Sith, and murmurs quietly, "Thanks, Vakkal, for talking with me. It helps, knowing it's not just foolishness in my head... and that someone cares."

"I do care, Freyja. As does Zero. And Master Roakkana. And Piper. And even, if they are poor in showing it, Syf and... and your parents." Freyja's small laugh is maybe a cough... maybe not... she turns and hugs Vakkal tightly for a long moment. He *urfs* a bit, and returns the hug gently and warmly. Freyja giggles against his fur and loosens the hug a bit.

Freyja sighs again when she finally sits back again, although it sounds more serene now, and simply stargazes for a long while. Much later, when the silent wheeling of the stars through the velvety sky reveal dawn will soon be approaching, she murmurs quietly to Vakkal, and the two of them rise to head back to the manse.

As the two ride slowly back through the darkness, Freyja makes a promise to herself. Should Vakkal die, she will find a bard, or someone skilled in writing glory songs, and tell them the story... she'll learn the song... and she'll make sure it's sung on Ziost.

[Previous Log] [Index] [Next Log]

Last modified: 2002-Jul-16 16:14:54

All material on this site is
Copyright © 2002-2024 Reality Fault
unless specifically indicated on each document.
All Rights Reserved.
Administrated by Reality Fault Webmaster