The Left-Hand Path

Part Nine: Revelry

Days later…

Preparations for the Masquerade were in high gear, with tailors parading costumes of sumptuous velvets, silks and brocades for Emperor and Empress. Acaciah tossed gowns into piles, favoring only the scarlets and crimsons that matched the palace’s new interior.

Vader entered the room, a woman clad in scarlet and black trailing behind him. “Mi priana,” he said to Acaciah, “I have a gift for you tonight,” he said, indicating the woman he’d brought. Acaciah appraised her; she’d seen her before. Yes, she was a courtesan; she’d seen her on the arms of several of the most prominent Moffs and Generals in the Empire.

“Senay Laka,” she acknowledged her aloud.

‘My Empress,” Senay curtsied. “Please allow me to be your body servant tonight.” Her scarlet and black robes gaped slightly, and Acaciah’s lips quirked up slightly as she realized Senay wore nothing beneath them.

Acaciah looked back at the four-poster bed, on which she’d laid down her final choices of costumes. Vader surveyed them and picked a fiery opalescent ensemble, complete with diaphanous faery wings.

“I like this one best,” he held it up to her; she slipped out of her robes, her bared nipples grazing his chest. Vader cupped her breasts gently, their fullness already growing with the new life inside her. Pride welled in him at the thought of having his own son as Emperor…yes, his little one would be the first of many in their line.

Aah pah pressed herself ast hst him lovingly; their lips met and lingered, treasuring their love and their secret pride.
Senay regarded the Imperial couple patiently; rumor had it that the only thing they prized more than their power was each other. She had served the previous Emperor, Palpatine, although not in a physical manner; he valued her ability to pry information from prominent men once their guards were down. When Emperor Vader summoned her, she assumed he wanted the same thing, but what did that have to do with Empress Acaciah? She’d tried to inquire of Saramai, the Empress’ chief handmaiden, but she was notoriously tight-lipped and resistant to Senay’s casual probes for information.
“My Liege prizes loyalty,” was Saramai’s cryptic reply. “I would keep that in mind if I were you.”
Loyalty, Senay mused, was not required of her profession. The appearance of it, perhaps, but ultimately no one wanted a courtesan permanently. Vader would make an excellent patron, however, she doubted the Empress would tolerate such an affair.
At length they finally broke the kiss, gazing into each others’ eyes. They were surely discussing their plans, up to and including her; Emperor Vader had made it clear that tonight Senay belonged to him alone, so she expected them to keep her busy.
*She’s bursting with curiosity,* Acaciah commented.
*Does she please you?* Vader inquired.
*So far,* she responded, *though none please me as you do.*
*Let her try, love,* he tipped her chin and laved at her quickening pulse. *I was right about Saramai* he reminded her.
*You’re always right,* her lips quirked in amusement. *It must be one of the benefits of being the Chosen One.*
Vader laughed aloud. “You’ll allow her to attend to you then?”
“Yes,” Acaciah responded.
“And you’re wearing?”
“The dress that pleases my love best,” she answered, taking the one he’d chosen earlier.
“Perfect!” Vader was satisfied. “I’ll be back shortly,” he said, bestowing a final kiss on Acaciah before exiting. Senay helped Acaciah ease into her iridescent ruby gown, complete with diaphanous golden wings. She also dressed Acaciah’s hair, twisting fine threads of gold and stars into her coppery curls. Vader re-entered the room, carrying a small handbag of scarlet and black velvet. Senay bowed deeply. “Are you pleased, your Majesty?” she inquired, indicating Acaciah, who twirled elegantly. “She is, obviously, so I am,” Vader embraced Acaciah, squeezing her bottom. “I have a gift for you, Senay,” he gave her the handbag. “Your order tonight, my dear Courtesan, is to go forth and have a good time. Keep your eyes and ears open for me, and carry this where ever you go.”
“I thank your Majesties for this opportunity,” she responded. Saramai stepped forward and showed her out.
Finally alone, Acaciah pirouetted for Anakin, who had yet to don his costume. “So tonight we’re wrecking havoc on the morally self-righteous?” she inquired. “It seems to me you’re not quite ready, dear,” she pointed out teasingly.
Vader smiled broadly, his eyes aglow with anticipation. “We do indeed,” he agreed, sliding his arms around her, fingers slipping beneath the silky gown. “How does the little prince feel tonight?”
“We’re both fine,” she assured him. “I’ve had no bad dreams lately.” “Good!” Vader was pleased, and drew her into a searing kiss, tugging her gown away.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” she inquired, bemused.
“We’re supposed to be fashionable late,” he responded as the last of her finery drifted down the floor. “Besides, Saramai will help redo all this—” he indicated her discarded costume. She laughed and wrapped herself around him, her lips seeking his hungrily.
“I love you, Acaciah,” his cobalt gaze drew her breath; his hands roamed her covetously as he admired the subtle changes the pregnancy was already making in her body. They settled on the bed and he slid between her thighs, raining tiny kisses up and down them.
“Anakin!” she sighed, arching her back in delight.
“Do you like our home?” Vader asked as he traced the curve of her calf.
“Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?” she replied.
“You ran away from me once,” he pointed out. “You don’t miss the Jedi Temple?”
“I don’t miss the Temple and their outdated laws and codes,” she answered, choosing her words carefully. “I do cherish some of the memories I have there. I met you there, after all,” she reminded him. “And I do miss my Papa.”
His lips tightened at the mention of Obi-Wan. “I suppose you are entitled to that,” he sounded resigned. “I just want to be certain you’re happy, Acaciah. I knew we’d be miserable living the Jedi’s way, living apart.”
“I know, Anakin,” she sat up and took his hands in hers. “I have not criticized your choices, have I?”
“No,” he admitted. “I only want the best for our family; the Jedi were keeping us down!”
“You sound as if you are trying to convince yourself and not me,” Acaciah said, her eyes clouding with worry. “Are you having nightmares again?”
Vader’s gaze turned distant. “Did you like the woman I brought to you?”
“She’s fine,” Acaciah said. “But I would like to know what you’re playing at now, Anakin.” His jaw tightened. “Papa was right, we’re in danger, aren’t we?”
Not if I can help it,” he answered, wrapping her legs around him again. “You are too precious to me.” His lips sought hers and Acaciah was engulfed in wave of desire. She wanted to feel nothing but him now—the rasp of his stubble tickling against her cheek, the silk of his golden waves through her fingertips, the coils of delicious tension rippling through him as her lips journeyed downward to his jutting member. Oh, let there be no more guilty past, no menacing future, only the here and now, she wished silently as her lips encircled his rigid member. She squeezed it lovingly as she traveled down its length.
“Acaciah!” Anakin moaned her name, his fingers entangling in her ruby tresses.
*I love you, Anakin* the words purred warm and silken into his mind.
“Yes!” he gasped aloud. “Please, mi priana!”
Acaciah turned her mischievous gaze upward, withdrawing her lips from his member, the suction giving a slight pop at her reluctant withdrawal.
“Tease!” he rasped, his eyes narrowing as he plotted his revenge. His hand wandered down to her ruby delta, caressing her tender bud. Anakin took her nipple into his mouth, his gaze never leaving hers. Nimble fingers stroked into her sweet spot, her muscles contracting against them. His expression turned triumphant as Acaciah began to pant her pleasure, angling her hips upward in offering to him.
“Oh, gods, Anakin, oh please!” her nails bit into his shoulders. “I need you inside me!”
He savored her tension, letting her dangle at the brink of release. “Anakin, please!” she sobbed again. He pushed Acaciah into the soft bed, sheathing himself inside her, uttering a low growl of pleasure as she took him in to the hilt.
“Ooh!” she gasped in delight as their bodies rocked together in primal rhythm. Anakin drummed into her fervently, but beneath it, Acaciah could see his worried need knifing into his heart. Was an Empire not enough to keep one woman and child safe and with him? What else could he do?
“I love you, Anakin,” she declared; he gave a feral smile and whisked her legs over his shoulders, stroking into her sweet spot. She writhed beneath him, moaning her bliss. Anakin succumbed, letting their pleasure take him away from his burden for the moment. They collapsed together, limbs twining, and he traced the dewy perspiration over Acaciah’s curves. She drew him close, wondering what she could do to assuage his fears.
“I will know more soon,” he answered her unspoken question. “For now we should get Saramai back in here and let her take care of your costume again!” he laughed.
~~~ Later that Evening. . . ~~~

The guests entered the Masquerade, all of Coruscant’s finest Lords, Ladies, Senator and Representatives. A maidservant presented each guest with a beaded armband, “To show you are a guest of the Emperor and Empress,” she smiled at them warmly. At long last the Emperor and Empress entered in costume. Vader wore an ancient warrior’s garb, with metal plated armor, topped with a plumed helmet. Acaciah thought he looked exquisite in his costume, its metal tunic and leather jerkin leaving all of his well-defined arms and calves bare to the eye. The golden wings of her faery costume complemented the golden armor; Saramai gave them an approving smile as they entered arm in arm. Tiny murmurs fluttered through the masses gathered, for some of the early guests were already celebrating vigorously, their inhibitions waning. *Why are some and not all so relaxed?* she pathed in inquiry.

*The longer you wear the beads, the more potent they become in the blood,* Vader replied. *By the witching hour they should all be in each others’ laps!*

*You laced the beads? Naughty, naughty Anakin!* she mock scolded him.

*If I’d known of the drug beforehand, I’d have used it on you when we were still at the Temple!* he teased.

*You wouldn’t have needed to!* she winked.

Vader kissed her hand and turned toward the band, who began to play. “Dance with me,” he offered Acaciah his arm. They twirled out onto the floor, and many couples quickly emulated them, including Joss and Liza.

*They don’t have beads!* Acaciah observed.

*They don’t need them!* he chuckled in return.

Meanwhile, Joss and Liza were swaying blissfully in the midst of Coruscant’s finest. *Vader’s got you on some assignment, doesn’t he?* she asked.

*Of course he does,* Joss sounded amused. *You don’t think he threw this party because he actually likes these people?*

*Who’s he tripping up, then? *Ev *Everyone! You’ll see,* he answered *The beads work quicker when you sweat, dear* he winked at Liza. They twirled past Anakin and Acaciah. *Tarkin’s taken the bait* he informed Vader silently.

Acaciah rested her head on Vader’s shoulder, watching the guests begin to flush and squirm as they lost their sense of propriety. He waved a hand, and she realized he’d turned on a series of hidden cameras to capture their guests’ mischief; there would be much blackmail material among the revelry tonight.
As Vader and Acaciah strolled through the crowd, surveying their handiwork, they noticed Lord Wilhuff Tarkin, lounging on a chaise with two scantily clad women. One Acaciah recognized immediately. *You sent Senay to Tarkin?* she asked, bemused. Vader only winked at her. Senay blew the Imperial Couple a saucy kiss in greeting.
“She’s not a timid creature,” Acaciah commented to Vader, as Joss & Liza approached. They kissed their formal hellos, and Liza gave a titter of amusement at Tarkin’s company. “Isn’t that Padmé Amidala?” she indicated the trio sprawled out on the large chaise.
“It is!” she agreed and they both laughed. Senay must have dressed herself down earlier at their meeting, for she was much more striking now, Acaciah reflected. She was delicately built, with flowing brunette tresses that fell straight down her back in a waterfall. She seemed to be enjoying Vader’s assignment; she grinned as Padmé wrapped herself around her, lapping at her ivory skin, which glowed with a mixture of spice and glitter. Senay’s pert bosoms pushed out of her tight red corset, spilling into Padmé and Tarkin's eager hands. “I could show you more,” Senay breathed in Padmé’s ear. She sent Tarkin a sly look. “My Lord?” she inquired.
“That would be perfect, Senay,” he responded, and the trio excused themselves to a more private suite, away from prying eyes.

“Seems we’ve made a lasting impression,” Vader chuckled.

“Think Padmé’s got a strap-on now?” Acaciah asked.

“I’m sure Tarkin would like her to show it to you if she did!” Vader quipped, giving her waist a gentle squeeze. “I would like you to keep our guests amused, I have to check security. I’ll be back shortly,” he assured her. Vader and Joss departed, leaving Acaciah and Liza idling amongst the guests.

Back at the suite, the trio indulged themselves, stripping the remnants of their clothing and discarding them into a pile, Senay’s silken handbag lingering at its bottom.

Acaciah ambled along the assembled guests; at length Tarkin sidled up to her, leaving behind the suite where Padmé remained, Senay making a hasty retreat.

“Your Majesty,” he bowed and ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. “Perhaps you’d like some wine?” he suggested, offering her a goblet.

“Perhaps,” she answered evenly; she took the goblet but didn’t drink.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” Tarkin smiled. “To new alliances,” he saluted Acaciah with his glass.

“I see you’ve made an alliance with Amidala,” Acaciah changed the subject.

“Indeed,” he agreed. “I would like to forge a deeper one with you,” his eyes raked her hungrily.

Acaciah raised a brow; was he really that brazen?

“My Empress,” Tarkin noted her reaction, “I have known your husband a long time.”

“So have I,” Acaciah interrupted. “All my life, in fact.”

“But I know he is a jealous sort of man, one who would not let his wife come and go as she pleases,” Tarkin went on. “That must crush the spirit of such an exquisite creature. I am not a jealous man,” he concluded meaningfully.

“But you are a covetous one,” she demurred, setting down her glass. Danger, Papa had warned her; she felt it creeping toward her now, radiating from his lustful gaze.

“I wouldn’t be so hasty if I were you,” he warned, taking her hand. “I know you ran away from Vader, Acaciah. Fear holds you to him; I could set you free!”

“We have reached an understanding,” Acaciah stiffened. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have married him!”

Tarkin scowled. “Isn’t it a Fiona woman’s prerogative to change her mind?” he tried. “Or to sample other fares?” His fingers trailed up to her scarlet curls. “He leaves you alone so often; surely you get lonely sometimes?”

“I am not interested!” Acaciah was appalled. “Unhand me!”

“You’ll regret it!” Tarkin hissed the pronouncement through clenched teeth, glaring at her retreating figure. He glanced back at her untouched glass; she hadn’t touched her wine. He strode back to the suite where Padmé remained lounging on the bed. Senay had taken her leave hurriedly, and since Padmé had wanted her gone she’d said little about her hasty departure. “I take it things didn’t go as planned?” Padmé inquired, noting his dour expression and Acaciah’s absence.

“No,” Tarkin was terse.

“You don’t have to have her support,” Padmé soothed.

“It complicates matters,” he scowled. “Vader’s such a prick, I always figured he married her for legitimacy, not for love; her mother was a noblewoman of Alameen.”

“Because he used to be a slave?”

“Exactly,” Tarkin answered.

“He does want to solidify his right to rule,” Padmé mused. “Rumor has it that he is trying to conceive an heir; the Empress has had many healers visiting her as of late.”

“I hope not,” Tarkin scowled. “An heir complicates things significantly.”

“Afraid of a little baby, Wilhuff?” she teased.

“Babies grow into vengeful men; it wouldn’t do well to get rid of Vader and have his son turn around and cut us down when he’s grown,” Tarkin answered. “It will be easier to do away with one right now instead of two.”

Back at the Masquerade, a disheveled Senay had slipped into the ladies’ room and was mentally and physically preparing herself for whatever Emperor Vader had planned for her next. Satisified, she applied her mask and rejoined the festivities. Joss intercepted her as she made the rounds.

‘You’re missing a handbag, my lady,” he remarked.

“I am, I left it with the esteemed Senator and his Lordship,” she answered.

“I’m sure the Emperor will be most grateful if you don’t disturb them for it,” Joss said, a funny smile quirking at his lips. “I’m certain he’d replace anything in it of value to you.”

“I am most grateful for his generosity,” Senay bowed.