Chapter Text
"I don't like how your driver is looking at us," Luthen says while showing her another antiquity piece than could or could not end up being another present, but looking at it Mon doubts it will. Too gruesome, this one. Luthen’s assistant hovers unobtrusively a few steps away, ready to help should they need it. "He seems awfully interested all of a sudden."
"Well… it's increasingly difficult to find reasons to come here," Mon says, resisting the urge to turn around and look at Exmar Kloris and how he lingers in front of the limospeeder, watching. Perpetually watching. "There are only so many gifts I can buy for my husband, now can I?"
“Is that so?” Luthen seems to ponder her statement for a long moment, tapping a finger against his lip. "Then perhaps we need a more scandalous approach to facilitate your time here," Luthen suggests, mirthful in a way it has a shiver run down Mon’s spine. She barely resists to shudder.
"Excuse me?" Mon can’t help but scoff, feeling the implied impropriety of the statement already like a slap to the face. Anything conspicuous cannot be associated with her. She has a conservative image to uphold, after all, and her position as a senator depends on a certain degree of propriety. At this point even Luthen should be aware of that.
"An illicit, tempestuous affair, Senator,” Luthen clarifies with the expression of a man who just made the most sensible proposition in the galaxy. "It would give you all the more reason to visit the gallery as regularly and as long as you please. Or even receive visits to the embassy if your schedule doesn’t permit a visit here."
"What?" Mon hisses, genuinely scandalized. Outrage bubbles up inside her at the very suggestion. Her entire body stiffens and she can’t even fake a courteous smile. "You can't be serious!"
"Why ever not?" Luthen asks, seeming perplexed, still with the hint of laughter in his voice, he adds, "It would certainly make things easier all around."
Mon doesn't quite manage to sound as collected and calm as she usually does when faced with outrageous suggestions, and can hear that her tone is decidedly too high-pitched, when she responds, "You… you could be my father!"
After a minute's pause, Luthen starts laughing, and Mon thinks it might be the first real laugh she has ever heard from him. Especially when it goes on and on for almost a minute. She doesn’t particularly enjoy being laughed at, especially not by Luthen, and crosses her arms in front of her chest.
"Oh, Senator, please!" He dabs at some tears that have escaped from the corners of his eyes with a handkerchief he’s crammed from one of his vest's pockets. "Obviously not me!" His jovial tone never wavers, saying as if it should have been obvious from the very beginning, "I was thinking more of Kleya."
Mon's gaze snaps to his dark-haired, female—yes, definitely very female—assistant so fast she almost gives herself whiplash. Kleya appears to be equally taken aback by the suggestion, blinking rapidly, lips slightly parted.
Mon says, "What?!" again, like an idiot. An affair with Luthen’s female assistant? Her? Senior Senator of Chandrila? A steamy romance? With Kleya? She gloriously fails to wrap her mind around it. Her eyes shift between the two of them, trying to figure out if Luthen may be messing with her. And she has quite convinced herself that he’s being flippant until he speaks again.
"Senator, you must know what I am suggesting!?"
"I don't believe that I do." Mon insists, knowing full well what he is implying but pretending not to in a desperate attempt to buy precious time to calm her thoughts, but soon realizes there is no chance for that now. She shakes her head, whispering furiously, “You must be joking!”
Luthen shrugs helplessly, then looks over at Kleya. So does Mon.
She can practically see how Kleya's congenial mask of practiced suavity slips back into place, and to Mon's utmost amazement, she eventually says, "Luthen is right."
Mon almost says ‘what?’ again but stops herself at the very last second.
She gives Mon a once-over that has a flush crawl up the side of her neck, putting her most embarrassing moments as a teenager to shame. One corner of Kleya's dark-painted mouth tugs upwards. Quite attractively, Mon would think, if she weren't still outraged. But there is also a calculating glint to Kleya’s eyes Mon has never seen before nor expected on her youthful face. It’s shocking, to say the least. "We could make it work… Don’t you think, Senator?"
Oh, this is just precious.
Mon can’t believe what she is hearing. Luthen has always been more radical in his ideas than Mon would prefer, and by now she’s come to expect it and has accepted it as an unchangeable part of him. But this is just… unthinkable. What a ridiculous notion. And now Kleya is even supporting this farce.
Mon feels her equilibrium slipping away and she needs some time to clear her head. “If you’ll excuse me now, I have pressing matters at the senate to attend to today and can’t possibly be late.” Mon hedges with charm and a smile born of attending decades' worth of official functions. She needs to get out of here.
“Certainly, Senator!” Luthen’s jovial demeanor is as practiced as it is fake. “Certainly.” He holds out an arm, gesturing in the direction of the gallery’s main entrance. Outside, her driver is pacing in front of the car, keeping them under steady observation. How fitting. If it wasn’t so disturbing, it would almost be amusing. Mon sighs.
“I hope you come and visit us again soon,” Luthen goes on as they slowly make their way toward the exit. “I would hate to assume your dedication to the… arts has dwindled so rapidly.”
The dig hurts, especially from him, but Mon takes it in stride and laughs with an air of incredulity. “Oh, you know me better than that, Luthen?” Her steady gaze finds his startling blue eyes. “My dedication remains, as it has always been, unwavering.”
Luthen seems pleased with her answer, but Mon can’t discern how much of his demeanor is actually to be taken at face value. “I’m so glad to hear it, Senator.” His gaze flicks back to his assistant, who has made her way behind the counter at the rear of the shop.
When Mon looks back at her as well, their eyes meet for a brief moment. She inclines her head, acknowledging the younger woman in lieu of farewell, “Kleya.”
Well, she is rather pretty, Mon can’t stop herself from thinking.
“Senator,” Kleya replies in an equally genial fashion, brown eyes dark and gleaming. A moment later, the door in front of her slides open, and Mon snaps herself out of it, heading through the gallery’s exit into the open where the pearlescent finish of the limospeeder is sparkling in the bright sunlight.
From behind her, Luthen calls out, “Thanks for stopping by, Senator! Hope to see you again soon!”
As the car lifts off and enqueues itself into Coruscant’s busy air traffic, Mon watches Luthen waving and getting ever smaller until he completely vanishes from her sight.
What an absolute, utter mess.
A few days later, Mon comes to visit the gallery again, much sooner than she had expected to, but determined to set things straight. She never had been one to let things lie and fester when there was no need for it. This is no exception, even if a delicate balance must be found, in this case.
Luthen’s assistant, clad in her dark blue dress with the high, white collar, is the one to receive her.
"Senator Mothma," Kleya welcomes her with a warm smile, and Mon can't help but smile back, not that she is trying very hard not to, "It's so good to see you again."
"Likewise, Kleya," Mon says, and is once again crassly reminded of Luthen's ludicrous suggestion of her starting an affair with this young woman before her. There is that tight feeling in her chest again when she thinks about it too long. She chooses not to examine it too closely, like in the days leading up to this meeting. "Is Luthen in?"
"Unfortunately not," Kleya tells her, walking out from behind the counter at the end of the shop to stand beside her. It's unexpectedly exhilarating to talk to Kleya on her own and have her undivided attention for once. Mon can’t really remember a time when they have ever talked alone before.
"He is not on Coruscant at all at the moment but is evaluating a piece for our current collection off-planet. He won't be back for the next few days, I’m afraid. But…" Kleya pauses, "… maybe I can be of assistance? Help you find something of interest?"
If Mon is not mistaken, there is a little flirtatious lilt in her tone that makes her throat go a little dry. But that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it? She’s just hypersensitive at the moment. It’s not that she can deny Kleya's attractiveness and finds herself thinking that anyone would be blessed to have her as a fake romantic interest.
But her? Surely not! Mon doesn't think Luthen or Kleya have thought this through! And this, after all, is the reason she has come here today—to tell them just that. Kleya is just not the right fit for her. Even if she has the smoothest skin and the softest-looking lips anyone would—
"Senator?"
Mon shoves the thought out of her head and answers, "yes,” before she can quite recall what Kleya had asked her.
The brunette’s smile is bright as she gestures for Mon to follow and leads her to the back of the gallery, saying over her shoulder, "Let me show you some of the gorgeous jewellery we just got in."
"Kleya."
Mon sighs, her smile placating as they have found themselves in the backroom. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think Luthen's suggestion of us having an affair is something I can get behind. You're obviously…" Mon falters there for a moment, twisting her fingers together as she gathers the appropriate words. She’s never been in a situation where she had to openly comment on another woman’s appeal, "… very lovely.”
She takes a breath, that is a little more shaky than she would like. “I have considered Luthen’s angle very carefully, but I have come to the conclusion that this entire endeavor would just subject me to more unpleasantness than be of actual advantage. I hope you understand that I couldn’t possibly agree to this."
Kleya leans against the the table across from Mon and studies her for a long moment before asking, "How so?" Her tone more curious than offended.
Mon should have known better than to assume Kleya would just accept her word for it or maybe have come to the same conclusion already. But if Mon has learned anything during her long tenure as a senator, it's to make other people see her way of things. Even if she has been less successful with that in recent times than she would like. Today, however, will not be one of these instances.
"Simple," Mon says, sitting down on the chair’s edge in front of the desk, folding her hands in her lap. "Any kind of affair would certainly tarnish my reputation. The next reelections are years off, but I can't risk losing my support from Chandrila. Even though most of my people's ways are rather progressive in a lot of ways, the sanctity of marriage is one of the most traditional cornerstones of our society."
There is no reason for her to tell Kleya that she doesn't agree with those traditions. She has long since fallen out of the childish dreams of romance she once harbored as a teenager. The only thing that matters—has always mattered—is how she is perceived by the people around her, never her personal opinions. Her mouth twists a little bitterly. "Not to mention the additional strain it would put on my relationship with my husband and daughter."
"Senator Mothma," Kleya says calmly, tapping her finger against the surface of the table. "There's no need for anyone but your driver to even know? And I can’t see him spreading the information he gathers? It would certainly endanger his position if you were to suspect him of spying on you.” She pauses for a moment before continuing, “And the ISB, well, they would possibly lose any kind of leverage gained from keeping this risqué knowledge under wraps until they can use it against you. We'll make sure this stays between the two of us and your driver."
To Mon’s chagrin, she realises Kleya isn’t wrong, but that doesn’t make this idea valid either. "But what about you?"
Kleya's sculpted eyebrows tick upwards, sounding genuinely confused. "What about me?"
"You could easily become a target of the ISB yourself!" Mon looks at Kleya, trying to implore her seriousness, and feels validated seeing how attentively the younger woman is listening to her. "Until now, there is no reason for them to look at you or Luthen at all. Once you appear on their radar by having an intimate relationship with a senator, this could easily change and put whatever you and Luthen are doing here at a very high risk!"
Kleya blinks, then slowly moves around the table, coming to a halt a few feet away from her.
"You told Luthen the ISB is watching you, replacing known faces, looking into your activities," Kleya remarks after a moment, speaking in a quiet, measured tone. "If we don't give them something else to focus on, they will eventually find out about the money transfers and maybe even put you in prison for supporting the rebellion. If that were to happen, this entire operation would crash and burn with you. The ISB is not shy about resorting to violence and torture to get the information they seek. Sooner or later you would tell them everything, even if you didn't want to."
Kleya maintains her steady, open eye contact, and Mon finds it utterly disarming, despite her devastating take on their current situation.
She continues thoughtfully, "So you see, Senator, we already are at high risk. The worst thing for us to do now is nothing."
Running a hand over her cheek, Mon exhales slowly. She's quite frazzled by the fact that Kleya has taken apart her every argument so effortlessly. But then there is one more issue she cannot keep quiet about, even if she doesn't quite know how to put this delicately, but then carefully asks, "But do you really think that the two of us are the right fit for this?"
It's the first time since this conversation started that Kleya's lips quirk, and Mon can't help but find it distractingly charming. "There is still always Luthen?"
Mon lets out a startled breath of a laugh. Before she can reply, Kleya goes on, her dark eyes darting to Mon’s mouth for a brief moment. "But I can promise you, out of the two of us, I'm certainly the better kisser," Kleya says in a near whisper, and just like that, hot, sticky heat creeps up the side of her neck. The idea of kissing Kleya is just as startling as the low tug in her stomach that accompanies it. A possibility Mon hadn't even considered up to this point.
Mon swallows and looks away from the turbulent shade of brown in Kleya's eyes that seems to shine darker than only a moment ago.
"This is the easiest way to make this happen." Kleya is saying, and Mon, still feeling a little too warm, realizes she should have talked to Luthen about this. After explaining the situation, Kleya makes way too much sense and leaving her unexpectedly defenceless. When she had left the embassy this morning, Mon had convinced herself that this was in no way going to happen that she would never agree to it. That it was the most ludicrous thing she's ever heard. But now?
Not quite half an hour later, sitting on a chair in the dimly lit backroom of the gallery, facing Kleya Marki, Mon concedes she might have been premature in her assessment of the situation.
"I know it's a hardship," Kleya says and looks at Mon with what might be compassion. "It's not what you expected to happen or what you thought was required of you."
"It's not a…" Mon begins to say, but then stops herself. Maybe insisting how very much it wouldn’t be a hardship to pretend to have an affair with Kleya now is not getting her point across in the manner she wants to. "I just don't think anyone would believe it. As I have been married to my husband for the past twenty-eight years."
Kleya seems to consider this. "And… I don't want to be indiscreet, but may I ask. Your marriage is a particularly happy one?"
Mon thinks of this morning when Leida insulted her at breakfast and Perrin said nothing. Or the last time he invited his old friends who are political rivals of hers and didn't give a damn of how that made her feel. Or the last time she spent with Perrin just because she enjoyed his company, which must have been years by now. Their constant arguments are certainly no secret to the embassy’s staff at this point.
"Maybe we can at least try." Mon acquiesces. Maybe if they can pretend they cared about each other they could get this ruse across just for Kloris' sake?
Kleya nods, and Mon is grateful that she doesn't ask any more questions about her and Perrin's relationship. "You will see, it won't impact your normal life much at all. But…" Kleya hesitates then, asking after a moment, "Are you truly willing to see this through? Because if you're not, now is the time to say it."
And what is she supposed to say, when Kleya looks at her like that, hopeful and desperate for her to understand the gravity of the situation?
But yes.
In the not-too-distant future, Mon realizes to her growing horror, that she really should have said no. And she can't quite recall all the reasons why she didn't.