Lineages

Prologue - Part 1

Doma Lowsyk, the eighth heir of her family, was considered lacking intellectually. In other's eyes she rectified the issue through her enticing looks; blonde hair, grey-blue eyes, and fair skin. Easily, she would one day find someone who loved and appreciated her.

Her hopes were that that man would be the eldest Palpatine heir, a young man who refused his given name, commanding his nomenclature simply to become his surname.

Palpatine, whom she had been visiting periodically for months, was truly the man of her desires. Powerful, with brightly-colored hair, an undeniable strength of will and spirit. Their meetings were a business venture, of sorts; a symbiotic association of secrecy and sensuality.

Sometimes, however, she felt as though it could become more, as they laid on the grass, the three moons shining bright, bioluminescent flitterbugs illuminating the Great Lake.

And due to the news she brought, more they must become, lest the Palpatine name be soiled, her future careers and dreams and hopes dependent upon one man's decision. A man who was so kind and supportive, shockingly empathetic, if not a bit- quite a bit- distant.

Scanning the horizon of the lake they had shared sight of so many times, she saw aiwhas, mothers and calves breaching and flying and diving, gracefully gallivanting throughout the evening, no cares in the world.

She inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, practicing the breathing techniques which always soothed her nerves and loosened her muscles.

There would be no more hesitation. It was time.

Three knocks reverberated throughout Palpatine's abode, interrupting his musings. He stood, his deep-blue tunic and trousers loose upon his body, the splashes of vermillion almost glowing in the dim lighting of his entry-room.

Traversing the red carpet, the hues of reds and blues so dark they were easily interpreted as black, he considered his current livelihood, and his past. He was an ambassador, an apprentice, an up and coming political powerhouse. He had been a student, breaking stringent rules, sneaking past guards, blowing away "competition" in any aspect; manipulating his peers as he now manipulated his opponents and "allies."

He opened the wroshyr-wood door, and frowned. "Doma, I wasn't expecting a visitor. Are you alright?"

"I need to speak to you," she uttered, her voice shaky.

"Of course, my dear," he moved to the side, gesturing to the comfortable chairs arranged in the room. "Please, sit."

He offered her a drink, which she declined, substituting with water. They sat in companionable silence for minutes, interrupted suddenly by a sharp intake of breath.

"Palpatine, I'm pregnant," Doma intoned.

He smiled, eyes widening. Not something he particularly reached for, in his machinations for the future. Palpatine's thoughts raced to conclusions and rearranged plans. A youngling? An heir? Would they have the power he wielded? His intelligence? His potential?

"That's great!" He smiled and stood, gliding over the carpet. Hands grabbing her shoulders, he leant down and laid a chaste kiss to her lips.

Doma Lowsyk pulled back, sinking into the chair, his hands soon barely grazing her cloak. She looked through Palpatine, "I don't know what to do," she whispered.

She doesn't have a choice. Do not let her leave your grasp.

"Dear, I will take care of you," he lightly gripped her chin, willing her blue-grey eyes into his own line of sight. "I will support you both."