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Chapter Text

Chapter 1

With a sigh, Mon puts down her data pad. She’s running out of ideas. How can she resist and push back against the Emperor's overreach if she cannot whip up votes in the Senate? She couldn't even convince Dasi Oran, the Senator for Ghorman to back her motion and his planet needed her bill more than any other with the Emperor's sudden interest in it. Has she finally lost her sway? Even her usual allies had been reluctant to support her bill. Perhaps it’s time she cut her losses but then how else can she help the rebels? Staying in the Senate and being an irritation prevents the ISB from paying attention to what she’s really doing. There was a time when she believed that remaining as a senator in the Empire would allow her to make a difference, allow her to push back against the Emperor, allow her to curb his power by passing legislation through the Senate with the help of allies but she can’t even do that anymore.

She reaches a hand to her temple and gently massages the skin. She's not sure if it's fatigue, stress, too long staring at her data pad trying to find answers or too much alcohol last night but her head is throbbing. Perhaps she should've asked Perrin for his legendary hangover cure before she left this morning. No doubt, if she had, it would’ve been accompanied with teasing of some sort from him, the same way he had the morning after Leida’s wedding but the cause of her drinking that night had been very different. 

With another sigh, finally giving into her agonising headache, Mon stands from her chair, walks away from her desk and sticks her head out of the door into the room off to the side of her main office where Erskin’s usually works from. She frowns at the empty room, her eyes glancing at the chronometer on the wall. Her frown softens when she realises he’s likely on lunch and it was fairly likely that he had checked in with her before he went but she hadn’t been paying attention. But his absence creates a new problem for her, she had been intending to ask him to get something to relieve her headache. Pursing her lips, Mon casts a glance outside her window. It's dry, at least, perhaps some fresh air will help with the pain and if not, at least she's taking a break, for once. 

She choses a secluded spot in the Senate Plaza, away from prying eyes and takes in a deep breath, allowing the air to fill her lungs and closes her eyes to the noise around her. She tries to focus on her breathing in an attempt to calm her mind but nothing seems to work. She can't shut out thoughts about Ghorman, about her failings in the Senate, the rebels, her worry for Vel, wherever she is and the stress of keeping her mask in place. And the fresh air is doing little for her headache. Her eyes flutter open as she gives up on the desperately needed relief. Perhaps, she'll leave work for today and head home to bed, she contemplates, her eyes watching as people pass through the plaza.

“Some party last night.” The comment catches her by surprise. Mon turns her head just slightly to see who it is that has disrupted her attempt at sanctuary. It takes all her will power to school her features in a neutral expression when her gaze lands on Director Krennic. She resists the urge to roll her eyes, spending last night in his company was bad enough and ironically what led to her drinking more than usual. Davo Sculdun had sprung Krennic’s attendance on her and Perrin without warning and forced them to spend time with the Director whilst he showed them all his infamous collection. Mon had tried to keep a level head but had ended up roped into heated discussions with him on various topics such as the Carmeen, an anecdote for Ghorman and the Empire’s oppression of the planet and its people. The man has a warped sense of reality but she would not get into another argument with him. For one, she doesn’t think her head can take any more pain and her anger at his comments the previous evening hasn't completely dissipated. 

“I wouldn't have thought historical artifacts and investiture parties were your thing.” She offers him a polite smile as she turns her head to fully face him.

“Maybe not but healthy debate with a worthy opponent… now that's priceless. There's nothing like the thrill of it.” There's a danger to his words as she catches the hidden meaning. 

The glint in his eyes makes her skin crawl and she wonders at what point did the monster in front of her decide that she was worth his time. Perrin had made an offhand comment when they returned home last night about the way Krennic’s eyes seemed to follow her around the room, how his attention had focused on her as soon as they joined the group and how he’d been provoking her into conversation all night. Mon had brushed it off, insisted that it was just how Krennic operated but now she’s not sure. 

“And did you find a worthy opponent?” Mon asks, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction, her tone is just playful enough that he won't suspect her true opinion of him, but not so playful that he'll think there's something worth exploring.

“I think we both know I did.” He's smirking now, the same one he gave her last night when he'd made reference to appearing before her committee. “Alas I'm not sure she has the stomach for another round.” He's baiting her, trying to coax her into whatever game he's playing.

“I'll guess you'll have to find another opponent then.” Mon shrugs, and moves to take a step around him but Krennic anticipates her retreat and blocks her path.

“Or perhaps, she just needs some convincing.” At that, Mon meets his eye. Her lips part a fraction, her mask slipping as she struggles to keep a grip on it at the realisation that the glint in his eye is desire. 

“Perhaps…” She fights to keep her tone light. “You need to learn to accept someone's refusal.”

“Or perhaps…” He steps towards her, positioning his lips close to her ear. “She needs to learn to embrace a bit of danger.” Mon resists the urge to laugh. Danger? She could do without any more danger in her life, funding the rebels and nearly being found out by Imperial Auditors was enough danger for her. Tay Kolma’s near betrayal was more than enough danger and she's barely forgiven herself for what had to be done to protect her from that.

Orson pulls back from her, anticipating her response but it doesn't come. In truth, she doesn't know how she responds to that without giving anything away or without encouraging him further. Instead, she lets her thought process play out across her expression, pretending as though she's considering what he's said. Krennic watches her closely, tracking her decision making with great interest. The balance is difficult to pull off. It’s not the first time she’s had to tread a thin line between what she thinks and what she projects outwardly but she’s never had to do it of this nature before. His next words suggest she’s managed it.

“You looked sensational in that dress.” He's changed the game again. “I couldn't help but want to run my hands over the expensive silk…” He leans in close again, his voice barely above a whisper as he says “Before removing it.” The boldness shocks her but she doesn’t allow it to show.

“What a shame I was with my husband.” Mon responds flippantly, his words enough to trigger a response this time.

“Hmm… indeed it was a shame.” He places a hand gently on her waist. Mon doesn't resist. She suspects he'd enjoy the chase, if she offered him one. “The debate we could've had without him present…” He finishes mid sentence, letting the unsaid words hang between them. His proximity to her, the power oozing from him leaves her heady, something about it is making it difficult to concentrate. It's unnerving and she realises at once that she needs to remove herself from the situation.

“Perhaps,” Mon says, stepping out of his grasp at last. “You need to find yourself a debating partner.” She forgets to say a different one as she manoeuvres around him.

“Don't worry, I have.” Those four words fill her with dread as she walks away from him and back to her office. She's unintentionally invited the chase. The question is does she play the game and if she does, how exactly does she play it?

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

It's weeks before Mon comes face to face with Krennic again, she'd expected him to find a reason to be in her presence, to continue their “debate” as he kept putting it or to try and convince her to be his “debating partner” and yet he seems to have unexpectedly backed off. The surprising thing about it is that Mon feels a little disappointed by it all. She'd thought that part of his campaign to convince her into whatever it was he wanted would involve more rounds of verbal sparring and she'd been looking forward to the challenge, it would prove more interesting than her current work in the Senate, but it never came. Instead, he seems to have disappeared for weeks until she comes face to face with him in the committee hearing room allocated to the Appropriations committee. It’s not even her committee, she’s filling in for Bail whilst he’s on Alderaan and is only supposed to be making up the numbers. Senator Tural is supposed to be leading the committee in Bail’s absence and Mon’s role is only supposed to be perfunctory and to allow her to report to Bail what was discussed and revealed during it. 

But then the line of questioning turns to Ghorman and the Imperial presence on the planet. Mon straightens up at the mention of it. She can feel Krennic’s eyes on her as she does so. She looks up to meet his gaze and raises an eyebrow at him. It’s not the first time they’ve had eye contact since the hearing started, his eyes landing on her as soon as he entered the room to give his evidence and a smirk pulling at his lips. It reminded her of the smirk he’d greeted her with the night of Sculdun’s party. Fortunately, she wasn’t the one asking the questions and the focus of the committee quickly came to order. Despite taking notes, Mon’s not really paying attention to his testimony, not paying attention to the web of lies he’s spinning to the rest of them. Until Ghorman. She misses the first few questions, her focus elsewhere until the Empire's presence on the planet is questioned.

“Why the increased Imperial presence?” Senator Tural asks. “Ghorman is a peaceful planet.” Mon watches Krennic, waiting for a chink in his mask. It doesn’t come. Instead, he smirks.

“A peaceful planet?” Krennic scoffs and Mon finds herself wondering if he believes his own lies. “Are you not aware of the raid on an Imperial Shipment?”

“Perhaps if the Empire hadn't built an armory over the Monument of the Fallen, the people of Ghorman wouldn’t have felt the need to make a statement.” The words are out of Mon’s mouth before she can stop them. Krennic’s gaze shoots to her at once, and their eyes meet, pulling her into the pools of blue. His smirk has gone and for a moment he seems hurt that she would dare challenge him but then his mask falls back into place and his eyes burn with what appears to be excitement. Mon curses herself. She’s given him exactly what he wants.

“Perhaps if the people of Ghorman weren't violent criminals acting against and threatening the safety of the Empire, there wouldn’t be the need to build an Imperial facility on Ghorman.” His tone is light, almost as though he's playing with her. 

“Perhaps if the Empire had respected their wishes and left them alone, they wouldn't feel the need to resist.” Mon's voice is cold as she speaks. Her words are a deliberate reference to the last debate they had and Krennic picks up on it at once, smirking as he does.

“Your rebel is my terrorist.” Krennic responds. “Ghorman harbours traitors to the Empire. These traitors are violent criminals attacking Imperial shipments. I didn't realise there were members of the Imperial Senate who condoned such actions.” Tension fizzles between them as he waits for her response. His expression, one of excitement as the thrill of their exchange plays out across his features. It's time for Mon to pull back and steer the conversation away from what might be deemed as treason to something safer.

“And what precisely are they doing on Ghorman?” She raises an eyebrow, her tone curt.

“Keeping order.” Krennic shrugs, as though it's the most obvious thing in the galaxy. Mon nods, letting him have the win. There's no point proceeding with that line of questioning, it's not going anywhere and Krennic isn't going to let anything valuable slip today. She concedes the point to him.

“I was there just last week. There was an attack by the rebels on an Imperial Shipment. The escorts were killed and the weapons shipment stolen.” Mon tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trying to hide the fact that he's just let slip something she can use. Krennic watches her movement, the way a hunter might watch its prey. 

“Clearly, there is a rebel group operating on Ghorman but does that justify a whole facility?” Senator Tural asks. Director Krennic’s attention remains on Mon for a bit longer before turning back to the senator and answering her question. Mon lets out a breath in relief. For the rest of the hearing, she goes back to taking notes, too afraid of another slip, of walking into a trap. Every so often, she feels Krennic watching her, the same way he did the night of Sculdun's party and she refuses to look at him, refuses to lock eyes with him. The other four senators take their turns asking various questions, chasing various lines of inquiry and Mon watches as he dances around them so skillfully, barely answering the questions asked, always spouting Empire propaganda and not once revealing any semblance of truth. It's almost an art form and Mon watches in awe at first and then disgust as she realises how little accountability and remorse he feels. Whenever he makes an incendiary comment, he looks to Mon to gage her reaction, as though he's said it to get a response out of her. She sits there in icy silence, making her notes. And when the committee draws to a close, she almost flees from the room to avoid being caught up in a conversation with him.

Mon's returning to her office from a meeting with Senator Oran, later that evening when she crosses paths with Krennic again. She's working late into the evening to try and make back the time she lost attending Bail's committee and Perrin’s out with some of his old academy friends.

“Senator Mothma, how lovely to see you this evening.” The voice grates on Mon’s nerves. It comes from behind her. Slowly she turns to face Director Krennic. “I didn’t realise you worked this late.” He’s walking towards her, his eyes searching her face. Mon keeps her expression neutral under his scrutiny. 

When she doesn’t respond to his statement, he adds, “You know what they say about all work and no play.” His tone is playful as he says it. Something about it chills Mon’s blood. There’s a danger to it. 

“Back on the witness stand, I see.” Mon smirks, she’s not sure why she entertains a conversation with him. Perhaps it’s because she’s curious to find out what it is he actually wants from her. Perhaps it’s because there’s something magnetic about the danger. Perhaps it’s because she wants to win the game. Whatever the reason, she can’t stop herself from having a dig at him. It reminds her of the last time they met and the reference she makes to him being “free from the witness stand”, the innuendo evident in her words. And then he’d started that stupid debate about the Carmeen people and she hadn’t been able to stop herself from engaging with him, pointing out where he was wrong. 

“I was surprised to see you on the Committee today. You weren’t in attendance last time I gave evidence.” He stops in front of her. There’s a softness to his expression and it catches Mon off guard. She watches him for a moment trying to decipher what he’s up to; she doesn’t believe this is an innocent conversation, he wants something. And she suspects it's her.

“Senator Organa asked me to fill in for him.” It’s futile trying to hide the truth. He’d only have to look at the committee members and who was missing at today’s session to work out what had happened.

“And here I thought you were there for me to continue our debate .” He’s smirking at her again. Mon lets out a short laugh.

“It’s a while since you’ve invited me to give evidence.” Mon ignores the insinuation. They both know his activities on behalf of the Empire are ones that her and her allies in the Senate will not approve of but until Mon gets an inkling of what they are, she cannot call on him to give evidence. And he knows it.  

“I was under the impression that you didn’t like being summoned to give testimony before Senate Committees, yet you seem to be asking me to do it.” Mon’s voice is saccharine sweet as she speaks, a smile gracing her lips as she dismisses his comment, refusing to take his bait. Something akin to frustration flicks across his gaze as he realises that he’s failed to provoke her; it’s fleeting as he quickly regains control of his features but she sees it all the same. 

Krennic leans in closer to her. “It depends who’s asking the questions.” There’s a glint in his eyes as he says it and a slight smirk on his lips as though they’re sharing some deep secret. Mon resists the urge to roll her eyes.  “Today for example was only interesting in the last part.” His meaning is clear: it was only interesting when she became a part of the questioning. 

“Well, I’m sure that will change once Senator Organa’s back.”

“Oh I doubt it.” Krennic’s tone is teasing. He’s baiting her, daring her to ask the questions she wants the answers to. Mon’s fighting a war between whether to fall into his trap and accept the game or ignore him, brush him off and wait for him to get bored. And she doesn’t know what to do. Krennic is different to other ISB officers and she doesn’t quite know how to deal with him. Usually, she can run rings around them without even trying but not Krennic, at least not outside out a committee hearing. She thinks it’s because he ambushes her, turns up in unexpected places and then tries to provoke her, as though there’s a prize for drawing a certain argument out of her and the only way to win is to make some outrageous claim. The trouble with that is she doesn’t know what the claim will be and she always feels like she’s on the back foot. It’s different when she’s interrogating him in a committee hearing; there she’s prepared, knows what she wants to ask, knows the exact piece of information she wants from him and how best to get it. She even prepares the different answers he could give in response to her questions. Krennic seems to enjoy their interactions during such hearings, as though he gets some kick out of the debate and if Sculdun’s party is anything to go by, he’s intent on moving the debate outside of senate business. 

“He’ll be back for the next one.” She exclaims, more for self reassurance than anything else. And if he’s not, she will not be filling in for him again, not after today.

“Pity. I rather enjoyed it today.” 

When Mon doesn’t answer, he tries again. “Perhaps, I’ll just have to do something that will be of interest to the Oversight Committee.” Mon can feel anger rising within her at his comment. How dare he suggest that he’ll commit some atrocity or illegality so bad it will result in a Senate Committee hearing led by her! She narrows her eyes at him, scrutinising his expression for any trace that he had made the comment in jest. There isn’t any. Unadulterated hatred for the man in front of her washes over her with an intensity so strong it’s burning through her. When did people become such a commodity to him? How did people become such a commodity to him?

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Erskin lingering, unsure of whether he should interrupt the two. She turns her head, exaggerating the movement, ensuring that Krennic sees it. His gaze follows her action, his eyes landing on Mon’s aid. She waits for recognition to wash over Krennic before she speaks. 

“If you’ll excuse me.” Mon smiles at him.

“Certainly.” Krennic returns her smile. “Oh, Senator…” He calls after her as she starts to walk away from him. Mon turns back but stays where she is, the distance between them large. “You didn’t give me an answer.” Mon tilts her head, pretends as though she doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“A second debate.” 

Mon’s heart is racing. “Director Krennic…” Mon tries to keep her voice light. “We’ve already had it. It’s a shame you wasted the opportunity.” She tells him, turns away from him and walks back across the Senate towards her office before he can respond. Mon feels Krennic’s eyes boring into her as she walks away from him and it takes all her willpower not to look back. She wants her comment and subsequent walking away to be seen as a dismissal, to dissuade his attentions. 

She's barely been in her office ten minutes when the door opens unexpectedly and Luthen walks in.

“What did Krennic want?” Luthen asks her, as soon as the door shuts behind him

“Luthen, what are you doing here?”  The risk of him being caught is huge.

“I have news on your cousin but it seems you also have news.” Mon frowns. “Krennic sniffing around you. What does he want?”

“I’m not sure yet. He might just be playing games with me.”

“You’re not sure? What a nice world you must inhabit.”

“What does that mean?”

“First Tay Kolma, now Krennic.” Mon’s eyes widen as she understands his meaning. “We can’t deal with Krennic in the same way, of course.” Anger simmers in her veins. How dare he bring up Tay and what they did to him! It was a decision that Mon wished she hadn’t made and she’s buried it deep within her to prevent being consumed with the guilt she feels over her role in it.

“What would you have me do?” Mon seethes.

“Play the game.”

“You can’t be serious.” 

“Well we can’t kill him, yet.” Mon laughs at that. They’re talking about killing someone as one would discuss the weather.

“So, you want me to do what exactly? Offer myself to him?”

“If that’s what it takes to get him to leave you alone.”

“And how exactly will that work?” She questions, disbelief lacing her tone. “You think once would be enough?”

“With a man like Krennic… no probably not. We need another plan to keep you safe from him.” He muses out loud, re-thinking his decision.

“I’ll handle it.” There’s an edge to Mon’s tone and it’s not for the first time she wonders if getting into bed with Luthen was a mistake. How much more will he ask her to sacrifice for the cause? Where is the line? What price is too high to pay?

“See that you do.” Luthen warns her before walking off. She watches him go. Did he really think her stupid enough to not know the risk of Krennic’s interest? Would making her own disinterest clear resolve the situation? She couldn’t answer that question with confidence either way. What if rejecting him makes him more interested in her and her activities? What if playing his game was the better option? Perhaps it’s time to apply her strategy against Palpatine to Krennic. Perhaps playing his game and letting him win would stop him and the ISB from looking into her illegal activities. After all, someone with things to hide wouldn’t get into bed with an ISB director. Perhaps, if she gave him what he wanted, made him care about her, made him want to protect her, she’d be protected from him. A cold dread washes over her and nausea pools in her stomach as Mon realises what she has to do. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

There's something beautiful about Coruscant at night, the way the lights flicker against the dark evening sky, filling the city with life despite the waning of the day. It's been a long time since Mon's truly appreciated it, perhaps the last time was when she was a newly appointed senator and everything filled her with awe. When the Republic fell and the Empire took its place, it became a symbol of what she was fighting against and she hated it but now as the speeder cruises through the well light streets, she realises that it actually is beautiful, once you strip away all the ugliness of the current political system. Perhaps one day, when the Empire falls, the city will just be beautiful. One day feels a lifetime away as the speeder draws nearer to 500 Republica, the location of tonight’s party, a party she didn’t want to attend but couldn’t get out of. It’s nights like these when she’s attending Imperial events on her own that she misses Perrin. Over the 30 years of their marriage, Perrin has always served as a pillar of support on evenings such as these, and even more so in the last few years but tonight she's on her own. He’s in Chandrila, his uncle Sordo is ill. Mon had to stay in the Capital on Senate business, despite trying to move things around to no avail,  but plans to return to her home planet if Sordo’s condition worsens. The unfortunate timing of it means she’s attending the party without him, which is probably for the best considering what she’s about to do tonight.

Mon sighs, exhaustion seeped into her bones hours ago and hasn’t left. The stress of living a double life, tiptoeing around everything, funding a rebellion, analysing every word before she speaks for fear she may inadvertently say something that puts her in an ISB cell is taking its toll. 

The party is already in full swing when she arrives. She’d left the Senate late, returned home late, and then left for the party late. All of it was carefully planned out to ensure she isn’t in attendance any longer than she has to be. She has a job to do tonight, that’s the only reason she’s going, well that and the fact that the party’s being held in honour of the Emperor’s birthday and not attending would, at best, look not great and at worst would be deemed as an insult to the Emperor. Still, as her eyes take in the banners displaying the symbol of the Empire, Mon wishes she could’ve delayed her arrival a bit longer. Paparazzi droids descend upon her as soon as she enters, snapping pictures of her that will no doubt end up on the holonet in a few hours. She pauses for a moment, wondering what the verdict of her dress for the event will be. She’s not a vain person, doesn’t particularly care what the gossips will say, she used to when she was young and new to politics and then the Republic ended and her clothes became a way of expressing herself when she couldn’t use her voice.

But tonight there’s a different purpose to her dress. And the subject of that purpose clocks her as soon as she’s escaped the droids. He slowly drinks her in, his eyes travelling the length of her body. And then he smirks as they land on her face. Mon feels his attention and resists the urge to look. Instead, she scans the room for a familiar face, as she makes a beeline for one of the servers and picks up a glass of Champagne from the tray. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his smirk fade as disappointment sets in at his being ignored. Your move , Mon thinks. 

And then, she spots Bail Organa talking to Erskin, of all people. Mon frowns. It’s unusual for Erskin to attend these kind of events. As her main senatorial aid, he’s included as part of her invitation to official events but it’s rare for him to attend unless she requests it. And tonight, she hadn’t. It’s bad enough she has to be there, putting him through it would just be cruel.

There’s no-one else she desires to talk to within her eyeline and so, she heads in their direction. A pair of eyes stalk her every move as she does. It’s unnerving. Her mind is screaming at her to back out, that she’s started the game and he won’t play fair but she ignores it.

“Senator Mothma.” Bail exclaims, holding his hands out to her.

“Senator Organa.” Mon follows suit, taking one of his hands and placing her lips close to his ear so that she can speak without being heard. To an observer, it would look as though she was just kissing his cheek.

“Whatever happens tonight, just go along with it.” She tells him. Bail’s smiling at her as she pulls away, they’re skilled players of this game.

“I do hope Erskin hasn’t been bending your ear on legislative affairs.” Mon’s tone is playful.

“Not at all. He’s been telling me about Ghorman.” Mon curses. Of all the topics her aid could be talking to the Senator from Alderaan about, it had to be Ghorman.

“Have you been?” She asks Bail. It’s the only thing she can think to say that won’t cause problems.

“Not for many years.” Bail smiles almost wistfully. Before the Empire set its sights on the planet , are the words not said. They don’t need to be but they hang heavy between the three of them.

“Senator Oran always talks so proudly of it.” Bail continues.

“You and Breha should visit.” Mon smiles. “Perrin and I were guests of Dasi not long after the blockade was lifted.” It’s almost wistful. “It’s definitely worth a visit.” Before the Empire’s plans come to fruition, Mon thinks but doesn’t say. The air is thick between them.

“I’m not a fan of spiders.” Erskin says and they all laugh. It diffuses the tension.

“What have you done to Krennic?” Bail’s question comes out of the blue, changing the subject of their conversation.

“Nothing, that I’m aware of.” She frowns.

“He’s staring at you.” Bail elaborates. “He’s trying to pretend he’s not.” At that, Mon laughs.

“It seems the thing he looks for in a romantic partner is someone who calls him to testify in front of a Senate committee.” She shrugs, taking a sip of the champagne.

“You’re joking?” Bail just manages to keep the laugh out of his voice.

“I wish I was.” Finally, she looks at him. He’s in conversation with Partagaz. The two of them huddled together as though discussing something of the utmost secrecy. Knowing the two of them, and their roles within the ISB, it will be. Feeling Mon’s gaze on him, he turns in her direction. Their eyes meet for a moment and she raises her glass to him before taking a sip and returning her attention back to Bail and Erskin.

“That’s a rather unfortunate development.” Bail muses.

“It certainly complicates things.” Mon remarks and then she’s pulled into a conversation with Senator Ton. Erskin and Bail separate and their brief interlude from the pretence comes to an end.

Mon spends the next hour mingling from one senator to another, occasionally bumping into people she knows from back home, Sculdun being one of them, engaging in small talk, nothing of any depth and keeping up the charade. Every so often, she feels Krennic’s gaze on her, following her around the room, making a note of who she’s speaking to and not for the first Mon wonders if his interest is merely a ploy to get close to her and use the information against her. But then, she’ll intentionally catch his gaze, see the desire in his eyes, the way he licks his lip and all thoughts of it being a trap fall dormant. Not even he, the great Orson Krennic, could fake that. And she’s not sure which is worse, that it could all be a ruse or that he actually wants her. What would he give to have her? That line of thought is dangerously close to Luthen suggesting she sleep with him. Is what she’s about to do any worse? Probably not, but it’s not any better. It’s almost ironic that she would find herself in this position when she put Leida in a very similar one. At least, Leida’s safe, she thinks. If Mon goes through with this, she could find herself in the most danger she’s ever been in and that is terrifying. But what’s the alternative? Rejecting the advances of a very powerful man will not end well for her, it never does. No, that’s not a plausible option. She needs to string him along, tease him, suggest that she might be interested without confirming it.

Someone’s organised a cake for the Emperor’s birthday and Admiral Daysar calls for the room to fall silent as some of the waiting staff bring it out.  Daysar makes a toast to the Emperor, wishing him a happy birthday and many more to come despite Palpatine not actually being in attendance. The guests raise their glass and toast the Emperor. Mon plays along with great difficulty, the absurdity of it all doesn’t go amiss as she takes a drink of champagne, and then the party starts up again. By chance, Mon’s standing next to Adrine Kolma, Tay’s sister, and finds herself pulled into a conversation with her. She’s done a fantastic job of avoiding the woman since Tay’s funeral, the guilt of her role in it threatening to expose her whenever she’s in the presence of his family. But tonight, there’s nowhere for her to run. She scans the guests, hoping to see someone that might provide her with an escape. But there’s no-one; Bail is trying to make a discreet exit, having decided, she suspects, that he’s been there long enough to be deemed socially acceptable. Mon hides a smile from her face as he dodges past people, trying to avoid a conversation. It’s only when he’s successfully made his way out that she realises Adrine has also disappeared and for the first time since she arrived, Mon is on her own. She lets herself relish in the peace. For a moment, she doesn’t need to put on a show, whilst she cannot display her distaste for the evening, she doesn’t need to perform in any other way. She places her empty glass on the tray of a nearby server and picks up another, taking a drink. She needs to steady her nerves for what she’s about to do. It’s the first opportunity she’s had all night to do what she came for and she’s close to backing out. But she can’t. It’s just a conversation. She’s just setting the board, there’s no guarantee  they’ll play. It’s that thought that has her crossing the ballroom to where he’s standing. There’s a man she doesn’t recognise with him and as she approaches, Mon hears Krennic tell whoever it is to leave.

“You've been staring at me all evening.” Mon remarks, trying to keep her tone light despite the urge to run as far away from him as possible. She’s been rehearsing what to say to him since deciding to go down this path but nothing seemed suitable. She cannot appear to have had a sudden dramatic change of heart but she also has to portray the deception that’s she’s open to the possibility of what he wants.

“Have I?” Krennic’s lip curls. “Or is it your aid that's caught my attention.”

“I wouldn't have thought he was your type.” The words feel like ash in her mouth and her stomach rolls. What is she doing?

Krennic laughs and then leans in close. “You're right, he's not my type.” He casts a glance at Erskin across the ballroom floor. Mon's aid is by one of the tables at the side of the room, talking to someone on Senator Erveen’s staff. Then he turns back to Mon, reaching across her to place his empty glass on the table behind her. His arm brushes across her waist and Mon wills her body not to flinch at the contact.

“I like my conquests to be more… well, let's just say I like them to have a bit more fire .” His voice is low, his mouth close to her ear as he says it, a smirk spreading across his face.

“Your conquests?” 

“Yes.”

“Does every part of your life fall into a military category?”

At that he laughs. “That depends on how hard I have to fight for the end result I want.” He pauses for a moment, intentionally holds her gaze, his eyes boring into hers when he says his next words. “And I always get what I want.” There's an edge to his words. A warning to them, as though he’s trying to tell that she will give in to him eventually. She ignores the comment, fights against her natural instinct to bite back.

“And do these conquests come as the result of a long , well planned strategy?” She chooses the words carefully, allows a bit of playfulness to her tone. She's trying to make him think she's interested after all. Krennic's eyes flash with something she can't quite place.

“That depends…” His lips are a mere whisper from her ear, his breath causing vibrations on her skin. Mon ignores the need to move away from him. Her mind is screaming at her to put distance between them but she pushes those thoughts out of her mind. “Some conquests are too easy and I get bored.” He's watching her, waiting for her expression. 

“Others require much more work and sometimes even, as you put it, a well planned strategy.” Mon inhales a sharp intake of breath, as though his words have affected her. Krennic smirks. It's small, brief but she sees it. Good , she's better at this than she expected.

“Those tend to be the ones that are worth it, the ones that are more difficult, the ones that come with a struggle.” There's a slight pressure on her lower back. It's Krennic’s hand. When did that happen? How didn't she notice it? 

“The ones that come with a struggle are always the most satisfactory ones. That moment when all the hard work pays off and victory is mine. It's beautiful. There's nothing like it.” His words remind her of their encounter in the Senate the day after Sculdun’s party when he'd said something similar.

“What about finding a worthy opponent?” She raises an eyebrow at him, places a slight smirk on her face so that he can see she's playing. Krennic chuckles.

“You remembered.” He leans in closer to her and lowers his voice to a whisper. “I think the two go hand in glove and never fail to tempt me.” He shifts his hand on her back and his fingers skim the top of her ass. Mon squirms slightly without meaning to but forces the muscles in her face to relax so that he doesn't think she's uncomfortable.

“Apologies Senator. That was accidental.” His apology seems sincere. 

“It's fortunate my husband isn't here this evening.” Desire crosses his expression at her words and she regrets saying them as soon as does. Neither of them have missed the reference to his comments the day after Sculdun’s party when he'd implied that he would've made advances towards her if Perrin hadn't been in attendance. She hadn’t meant to send that message. She was supposed to be warning him that Perrin was likely to be the jealous type. She learned that enough times over her friendship with Tay.

“It is indeed.” 

“Did you find a debating partner?”

“I did but she turned me down, offered me an alternative in her place but he just wasn't as much fun.” Neither of them can ignore the insinuation. “And I still haven't been invited back to your committee. I'm starting to think it's personal.”

“Why would you be unless you're doing something the Senate may find to be illegal?” Krennic laughs again.

“Me doing something illegal?” He watches her, a glint in his eyes. “How can work conducted in the name of our Emperor be illegal?” And that’s when the tone of their conversation changes, it’s been playful, flirtatious but he’s killed that dead with one question. Mon curses to herself. This isn’t going to be as easy as she thought. If provoking Mon into a political debate is part of his foreplay, this will never work. She cannot engage in any discussions with him that could be seen as sedition and yet he seems determined to provoke a reaction from her. Perhaps she’s done enough for tonight, after all, she was just supposed to be planting the seed. It will have to be enough for tonight, she decides. He’s starting to lay traps and she cannot afford to walk into one.

“Well, Director, as fun as this evening has been, I think it is time I was leaving.”

“Already?” Krennic seems surprised by the suggestion.

“It’s getting late.” She offers by way of an excuse.

“The evening’s barely started.” Krennic exclaims. Mon scans the remaining partygoers. Most of her allies in the Senate have already left, following in Bail’s footsteps and there doesn’t seem to be many left that don’t belong to the Empire. That in itself is reason enough to leave.

“Mon…” The use of her first name startles her. It sounds almost alien coming from his mouth. “Stay.” There’s a softness to it, the way one might say it to a lover. The situation has escalated quicker than she’d expected it to. To go from a conversation that was barely flirting to him asking her to stay makes her head spin. Has she really been that convincing? She needs to get out of there quickly, but in a way that doesn’t ruin things. She’s caught him, she just needs to reel him in, but that’s for another day.

“I’m not sure my husband would approve.” It’s the only thing she can think to say.

“Then he shouldn’t have let you come alone to this party.” Interestingly, he doesn’t know Perrin’s off world. That would suggest he's not involved in any ISB surveillance on her.

“Even so…” She smiles at him, it pulls tight against her skin.

“Mon…” He repeats. “Stay.”

“Why?” She asks, an eyebrow raised. “So that you can provoke me into saying something I shouldn’t?” At that, Krennic frowns and Mon thinks she’s overplayed her hand. She shouldn’t have mentioned it.

“So, that’s why…" Krennic muses, as though she's just given the answer to the darkest secrets of the universe. "You don’t trust me.” No, she hasn’t overplayed her hand, just set them up for another round. “You know, trust is earned and I can earn yours but for that to happen, you have to afford me the opportunity.” Mon's startled by that declaration but doesn't set out to correct him. Let him think she's playing hard to get because she doesn't trust him; it conceals the truth from him.

“I think you need to find another debating partner.” She says and watches as the determination sets in his jaw. She’s done enough to suggest she’s interested in exploring whatever it is he’s offering but then backed away without committing to anything. And now the chase begins in earnest , Mon thinks as she walks away from him and leaves the party.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

There's someone in the apartment. Mon can sense it the moment she steps over the threshold; she's only returned home to grab a file she needs for the afternoon. Her heart races as she tries to work out if she has anything incriminating in the apartment. It's unlikely, she doesn't keep records of anything. The ISB has her under advanced surveillance and occasionally goes through her things, she's not stupid nor reckless enough to risk it. Even so, her mind races through the contents of her office. There's nothing in there that would raise suspicion. Next she mentally rifles through her bedroom, nothing in there either.

Whoever it is, doesn't seem spooked by her sudden appearance. Perhaps it's Perrin. No that's not possible, she'd spoken to him yesterday and he hadn't mentioned that he'd be back today. It has to be ISB. Perhaps they haven't heard her. Mon pauses for a moment. Should she quietly retreat or make her presence known? If the ISB still have cameras in the apartment and she suspects they do, leaving so soon without actually doing anything will look suspicious. Perhaps, it's a chance to catch the ISB in the act. That would be a valuable piece of information, one that perhaps she can use to her advantage. Resigned to possible confrontation, Mon walks further into the apartment, her heels clicking against the floor as she heads in the direction of her study. The footsteps of whoever is in the apartment follow hers. They're lighter than she'd expected, not the usual stomping of ISB officers. Mon turns in the direction of the noise, it's coming from the dining room. Strange, there definitely isn't anything worth searching in there. Whoever it is, isn't trying to conceal their presence and Mon realises that now she’s heard it, she cannot ignore it. She takes slow measured steps across the hallway to the entryway of the dining room and then halts. The figure that walks out of the room is not who she was expecting.

“Leida…” Mon exclaims. “What are you doing here? Is Stekan with you?” Joy at seeing her daughter for the first in months fills her.

“No.” It's short, abrupt and something about it seems off. Mon studies her daughter for a moment. Should she push Leida for information or just wait until she chooses to come to Mon, if she does.

“Where is he?” Mon asks, unsure what to do. It’s the wrong thing to say. Leida's face forms into a scowl. Something’s happened.

“On Chandrila. Am I not allowed to visit without him?” The aggression in her voice reminds Mon of the many arguments they'd had in this very spot.

“Of course, you are.” Mon smiles at her, trying to de-escalate the situation. They've been tiptoeing around each other since the altercation at the wedding, made worse by how drunk Mon had been that night. Perrin thought it amusing, Leida was annoyed.

“Where’s dad?” Of course Leida would be seeking Perrin. It hurts that Perrin is always the one she turns to. 

“Home with Uncle Sordo.” Leida simply nods at that and then turns to leave the room. “Leida, is everything okay?” Mon asks the question softly.

“Yes.” The word comes out weak as though it's difficult to say it. Mon sees through the lie at once. She holds out her arms for her daughter and Leida almost flings herself into the embrace.

“Oh my darling, what's wrong?”

“Marriage isn't what I thought it would be.” Mon can hear the tremble in her daughter's voice. She tightens the hug. “We fight over everything.” Mon thinks back to the wedding celebrations, to the young couple's first fight and how monumental it had seemed to Leida then. Mon had tried her best to be there for her, had told Leida that she didn’t have to go through with it and Leida had thrown it all back in her face. But now her heart breaks for her daughter, for the choice she'd forced her into, for the rebellion. A cause Leida doesn't know about and will probably never know the sacrifice she's unknowingly made for it. Mon owes it to Leida to make sure that the cause wins, and that she continues to have a role in it. But she also owes it to Leida to help her find happiness.

“Oh Leida, you’ve barely been married a year. It takes time to get to know each other, to learn how to be together.” She offers as reassurance but the words sound like lies even to her when she thinks of her own marriage over the years. Still, the first few years had been happy.

“Did you and dad argue like this a year into your marriage?” Leida asks, pulling away from Mon. Mon pauses for a moment, should she lie to her daughter? If she does and Leida knows it's a lie, it will push her further away.

“No, but that was different.” Mon cups her daughter's cheek and offers her a soft smile. She's reminded of just how young Leida is. 

“How?”

“I was a senator by then and we'd moved here. Besides, your father and I knew each other before we were betrothed.” Mon smiles, the memory of those early years flitting through her mind.

“But look at you two now. What hope do we have if you and dad were happy at least in the beginning?” The comment stings. 

“Oh, Leida… it will get better.” The words sound hollow but what else can she say? Leida's come to her seeking comfort, Mon can hardly tell her that she needs to resign herself to a life of unfulfillment and what she's feeling now will worsen as the years wear on.

“How can it?”

“Because it has to. The two of you are married.”

“What if we weren't?” The question catches her off guard. How bad must things be between them if Leida is already considering a way out?

“I don't understand.”

“What if we were no longer married?” Mon’s astounded; this suggestion comes from the daughter who despite being raised in the freedoms of Coruscant chose to follow the traditions of Chandrila, chose to marry at 15 to a boy chosen by her parents and any suggestion that she turn away from such antiquated traditions had her running towards them. Had it all just been teenage rebellion? Mon will never forgive herself for her role in Leida's marriage if it was.

“Leida, I'm not even sure that's a possibility.” Mon offers. And it's the truth. The strange thing is that despite their problems over the years, Mon and Perrin have never considered, never even entertained the idea of ending their marriage, if it's possible.

“But you could find out, couldn't you?” There’s hope in Leida's voice and Mon finds herself wanting to give her daughter everything. She suspects she already knows the answer but promises herself that she'll do the utmost to give Leida the answer she wants.

“Leave it with me.” She places a kiss to her daughter's forehead. “I have to get back to the Senate but we'll get dinner later and I'll look into it.” Leida nods in response and it feels as though the chasm between them has closed somewhat.

And that's how she spends the afternoon looking into old Chandrilan customs and the legality of marriages instead of dissecting the newest bill working its way through the Senate, which she suspects she'll vote against anyway.

It's late afternoon when the door to her office swings open. Mon lifts her gaze from the document she's reading. Krennic is strolling into her office, polished as always, his cape swinging behind him. There's a determination to his movements. Mon’s heart race quickens. Why is he here? She studies his gaze for a moment, he doesn't appear to be angry and is alone. So, he's not here to detain her. Relief floods through her at that until it's replaced by confusion. What does he want? Mon tries to still her mind, tries to quiet the hate she feels for him, tries to mentally prepare herself for the performance she's going to have to deliver.

She raises an eyebrow at him as he walks towards her, waiting for him to explain why he's barged into her office without so much as a knock. He stops in front of her desk.

“Considering a divorce?” Krennic’s smirking as he casts a glance over the papers spread before her. “Interesting.” Mon resists the urge to roll her eyes at his insinuation. It doesn't escape her notice that he sees Perrin as an obstacle, she’s implied twice now that he's the reason nothing can happen between them, and here she is looking into divorce. Of course the arrogant bastard would think it's about him.

“No.” Mon sends him a pointed look. “To what do I owe this pleasure ?” She keeps her tone clipped, remembering how their previous conversation had ended. Krennic doesn’t seem bothered by it, perhaps he's expecting her to be aloof. 

“I have a proposal for you…” Krennic points to the seat in front of her desk. His eyes are fixed on her face, watching her expression. Mon keeps her face neutral, trying to hide the fact that she doesn't want to be in the same room as him, let alone considering a ‘proposal’ from him but if her plan is going to work, she has to entertain him.

“By all means.” Mon says, her tone somewhat dismissive and non-committal.  Krennic takes a seat and Mon turns back to the piece of legislation she was reading. A few minutes pass in uncomfortable silence between them as Mon continues with her work and Krennic sits patiently, waiting for her to speak. The air is heavy with an indescribable tension. Mon can hear his breathing. She tries to block it out, tries to focus on the document in front of her but the words are blurry.

It's Krennic who breaks the silence. “Are you always this rude to your guests?”

“Guests? Do guests normally barge uninvited into their host’s office?” Mon can hear the harshness in her words. She curses herself for saying it so rudely but then remembers that this is the role she's playing. She can't be too friendly with him or it will rouse his suspicions. The thawing of tensions between them has to be slow.

“Touche.”

“Perhaps if you’d entertained the idea of following etiquette for once, you could’ve set up a meeting with me and shown up at a more appropriate time.” Mon points out.

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

“Well, then you’ll have to wait until I’m finished.”  It’s petty, she knows but it fits perfectly in the role she's trying to play. Krennic purses his lips but doesn’t say anything. He settles himself into the chair and slowly pulls his gloves from his hands one finger at a time. Mon ignores him, tries to pretend he's not sitting in her office, as though his presence is perfectly normal. It's not. It's the furthest thing from normal. The man sitting opposite her is a monster. She hates him with every fibre of her being and yet he's there in her office, the room that is supposed to be her sanctum. He's violated that. Anger simmers in her veins at the audacity of him but she forces herself to stay calm.

There's a quiet tapping that breaks through her quiet concentration. It's Krennic. He's drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. Mon lets out an irritated breath. She can feel her anger rising to the forefront, threatening to break through her wall of control. First, he's turned up unannounced and forced a conversation on her, interrupting her work and because she's made him wait, he's now intentionally distracting her. Mon bites her lip, tries to focus on what she's reading and manages a few more paragraphs before Krennic starts whistling. If Mon hadn't wanted to get her work finished that day, she’s sure she would find the situation almost funny. This man, high ranking in the Empire, one of the Emperor's favourites, so arrogant, so sure of himself and yet can't handle being made to wait. He really does think the galaxy revolves around him, doesn't he.

When Mon reads the same paragraph for the third time, she concedes defeat. She sighs, places her datapad on the desk, giving up on the work she’s been trying to do. “Very well. Tell me what your proposal is.”

“You’re finished?”

“No but evidently, you’re not going to let me get it done unless I hear your proposal.”

“I don’t like being made to wait.” Krennic shrugs as though it's the most obvious thing.

“Well now you know what it's like for senate committees when you don’t file reports or make funding requests on time.” Krennic laughs. 

“Come, Senator, do we really need to have a debate every time we have a conversation?” When she doesn’t answer, he continues. “Have dinner with me.” 

Confusion washes over Mon. Has she heard him correctly? Dinner? With him? He cannot be serious. When this whole thing eventually reaches its end, she’d been expecting it to be sex, that she’d string him along, give him the subterfuge he wants and then,  if she was left with little choice, one night with him. She could resign herself to that, could forgive herself for doing it after that fact. But he wants dinner. How could she possibly sit through a meal with him? It's bad enough being in the same room as him but that . She doubts she has the stomach to do that . Dinner with him would involve her being present in the moment, engaging with him, getting to know him. The very thought of it makes her nauseous. 

Mon doesn't know how to respond to him. Under normal circumstances, her even considering it would be laughable, but these aren’t normal circumstances. Should she agree? Can she agree? Is this a test to see what she’s prepared to do? Maybe he’s testing her to see what game she was playing at the Emperor’s birthday party, trying to confirm if the slight relaxation of tensions was genuine. She needs to outplay him but until she knows the game, she can’t even make a move.

“That’s your proposal?” Krennic stares at her, the challenge present in his eyes. Oh, yes, he’s testing her. “And here I thought it was going to be about some project you’re working on that may require my support in the Senate.”

“I’m not sure I’d call you a project and I certainly wouldn’t need support from the Senate.” There's a huskiness to his voice.

“You barged your way into my office to ask me to dinner?”

“Now you know why I didn’t make an appointment, but if you’d prefer me to ask you to dinner by appointment in future, I’m sure I can accommodate.” There’s a mocking tone to his words. Mon ignores him. “So dinner, I’ll book us a table at that new place near the Opera House.” He says as though it’s meant to impress her that he can make a reservation at a new restaurant for the same day. It doesn’t. 

“I can’t.” Mon’s response is short and swift and she regrets it as soon as she says it. She’s not doing well at remembering she’s supposed to be thawing to him. Interacting without him outside of the Senate is throwing her off, something about the unnaturalness of it is making it difficult to focus. Instead of a calculated response to what he’s saying, she can’t stop herself from biting.

“Senator…” Mon notices the slip back into addressing her by her title and wonders briefly if it’s because of the wall she’d put up between when he called her by her name. “We both know you’re going to give in eventually so why prolong the inevitable?” At that, Mon laughs.

“Give in to what exactly?” She asks, finally forcing him to say what it is he wants. They’ve been tiptoeing around this since the night of Sculdun’s party, perhaps even before then, if she thinks back to the last time he was answering her committee questions on the witness stand. But his response is not what she expected as frustration passes over his features, just for a brief moment before his face resumes a neutral expression.

“I never took you for being naive.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“No.”

“How well do you think this is going?” Krennic tilts his head and smirks at her. “You've barged into my office, interrupted my work, called me naive and implied I'm a whore.” There's an ice to her words. She's letting her own emotions surface, for a split second allowing her mask to slip but only because she can do it whilst staying in character.

“I never implied that… The rest, yes guilty as charged…”

Mon cuts him off. “And you think I'm going to want to go to dinner with you?”

“Yes.” Disbelief crashes over her. She stares at him for a moment. Oh yes, Mon thinks, the galaxy revolves around him . She wants to punch the smug arrogance out of him. But she doesn't. She counts to ten in her head, tempers her annoyance and keeps her mask in place.

“I can’t. My daughter’s just arrived back to Coruscant.” At that Krennic frowns as though he didn’t know about Leida. She watches as his expression changes, can see the thoughts racing through his mind. He's trying to decide how to adapt his strategy for getting her into bed with him, a husband is easily worked around, a daughter, however that's more complicated.

“Another night then.” He says at last. Mon simply smiles at him, neither committing or refusing anything.

“Perhaps next time, you'll make an appointment.” Krennic ignores the rebuke.

“Perhaps next time, you'll say yes.” He says, standing up. “And for the record Senator, I don't think that about you.”

“No, you just think I'll be your next conquest.” The words slip from her mouth before she can stop them, throwing his own word back at him. 

“I don't think it.” Krennic utters as his picks his gloves up off the arm of the chair. “And you'd be so much more than a conquest.” Mon frowns at that. What does he mean by ‘more than a conquest'? It implies he wants more than just sex. At least his dinner invite makes more sense in that context. But then a terrifying thought crosses her mind. How long has he wanted this? Has this been his goal since they first went toe to toe during that first Energy Projects Subcommittee where she'd torn his proposal to shreds or was this a newer development? Had she unintentionally created this situation. The thought fills her with horror.

“Remember, I’m not a patient man.” There’s a threat laced amongst the words and Mon wonders what exactly he'd do to her as punishment. She quickly shuts down that line of thinking as she watches him strut out of her office, leaving her with far more questions.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

It's nearly two weeks later when Krennic re-enters her orbit. Perrin is still on Chandrila and after a few days bonding with Mon, Leida has joined him.  Once she's left Coruscant and Mon is alone again, the loneliness hits her. She used to enjoy the periods that Perrin was off world, it allowed her to focus on her work without feeling guilty for missing things, it gave her peace of mind that they wouldn’t have an argument over one thing or another but this time, she feels his absence in every room, even ones they barely spend anytime in. Throwing herself into her work doesn't help either, if anything, it makes her feel worse because she cannot do anything. Her latest crusade is to try and prevent the extension of the P.O.R.D  but no matter how hard she tries, no-one will support it. She can't even get people to support a bill reducing its enforcement. Now, when she’s in the Senate chamber, where she used to see allies, she sees adversaries or even worse complacency. More and more she feels isolated despite being surrounded by people and then there's the days where she is on her own and on those days, the loneliness is insurmountable.

Consequently, she finds herself avoiding the apartment when she can, staying late in her senate office, spending time with Bail and a few others but they have to be discreet, have to do it in public where they're unlikely to be monitored by the ISB and that means every topic of conversation has to be well thought out, every comment planned before it's said and that too adds to her loneliness. It all seems superficial, lacking depth and she questions whether there's any point in even doing it when there's no sincerity to it. As her loneliness grows, she starts to miss Padme and that makes her feel worse as she mourns what was.

She's avoiding going home the night she meets Krennic again. An early evening vote had been scheduled in the Senate on the appropriate response to insurgent activity on Ghorman but it had been cancelled at short notice. Mon had debated whether to, like most of her allies in the Senate, go home for the evening or stay and get some work done. She'd decided against going back to the apartment but she didn't really want to hang around the Senate either. As she's debating what to do, her comms link buzzes with a message from Erskin, reminding her to eat. She's skipped lunch too many times recently for his liking (she blames stress) and now he's taking it upon himself to make sure that she sticks to mealtimes, even if it's just something small. She appreciates his concern, even if it does occasionally make her feel like a child who can't be trusted. Tonight though, he's provided a solution to her problem, and presented her with a third option: she will take herself out for dinner.

The restaurant in the Entertainment District isn't too busy when Mon arrives but she hasn't made a reservation, which means she has to wait whilst they ready a table for her. The restaurant host apologises profusely to her but Mon doesn't mind the wait.

“Senator, your table will be ready shortly, why don’t you take a seat at the bar?” He offers. She takes him up on that suggestion, hauling herself up onto a bar stool and ordering a glass of Chandrilan Blue ‘439.

“Dining alone Senator?” The voice makes her blood run cold. Mon lets out a sharp breath, counts to ten and composes herself before turning to face him, a slight smile on her face.

“Director Krennic.”

“I think I shall have to have a word with your husband… letting you attend parties on your own, leaving you to dine alone, tut tut. He’s not a very attentive husband.”

“His uncle is ill.” The words slip out of Mon’s mouth before she can stop them as she instantly jumps to Perrin’s defence. At once, she knows the information she’s disclosed without saying it and she hates herself for it. She just implied that Perrin is on Chandrila and Mon’s on Coruscant alone. And one of the things he views as an obstacle, one of the things she suggested was an obstacle, is no longer an issue.

“How sad.” Krennic remarks but there’s no sympathy in his words. He tilts his head. “And you’ve got no friends you could have dinner with?” He makes her sound quite pathetic. Perhaps she is. His question gives her pause. Does she have any friends? Tay had been a friend. Bail is a friend but they can’t spend too long in each other’s company for fear it would raise suspicions at the ISB. It’s the same for the other senators she spends time with. 

“Not at such short notice.” She responds. “There was supposed to be a vote in the Senate this evening, but it was cancelled.”

“And here you are, almost as though fate itself intervened.” Mon raises an eyebrow at that. What on Earth is he talking about? She sees an idea form in his mind and knows what he’s about to suggest before the words are out of his mouth. “Well, it would be remiss of me to let you spend the evening on your own.” 

The bartender places Mon’s drink down on the bar, the glass clinking as it hits the polished wood. She turns around to pick it up, her back facing Krennic as he makes his suggestion. Relief washes over Mon at the impeccable timing.

“Why don’t you join me?” Krennic asks. “You did promise me dinner.” 

Mon curses to herself, she knew that would come back to haunt her. She wants to argue that she didn't actually promise him anything but finds herself unable to. Is it because of the game she's playing? Is it because tonight of all nights she's feeling lonely and he's offering a solution? Or is it simply that she’s too weary?

“I did.” Mon reasons, her eyes narrowed as she weighs up her options. Krennic's watching her with a bashfulness she'd never expect from him, a slight chink in the aura of arrogrance he portrays to the galaxy. Is he nervous that she'll say no? Mon doesn't quite know what to do with that piece of information. She'd thought it was all about the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of getting her to give in, of knowing that it was him that she submitted to but now, studying him, she realises that perhaps there is more to it. And she can use that to her advantage.

“Shall we?” Krennic tilts his head. Mon gives him a brief nod. She cannot believe she's going through with this. How is she going through with this? For the rebellion, she tells herself, for her own protection. Luthen had told her that she needed to be protected and if she pulls this off successfully, she will be protected, for a time. But does she really have to endure dinner with him for that? Tonight, you do, the small voice in her head is back. 

Mon takes a sip of her wine and then decides to down the glass. Being somewhat under the influence doesn't seem like a bad way of enduring what she's about to do. Krennic, recognising his victory, smirks and then starts to walk towards his reserved table. Mon lets the host know that she no longer needs her table, places her glass back on the bar and then catches up with him.

Krennic pulls back the curtain to the private dining area, gesturing for Mon to go ahead but the sight makes her stop dead in her tracks. In front of her is a large table and sitting around it are four ranking members of the ISB, two members of the Vizier’s private chamber and six women she can only presume are their wives. A slight pressure at her back reminds her that Krennic is behind her.

“Apologies for the delay, we’ve got an addition to our party this evening.” Krennic says to the group.  The colour drains from Mon’s face. He can’t honestly be expecting her to have dinner with them ? The presence of his hand on her back suggests that is exactly what he is expecting. Mon’s mouth dries and fear courses through her veins. It takes every ounce of her willpower not to react.

“There’s only one place.” Mon offers. 

“That’s an oversight on my part. I forgot to call ahead and amend the booking.” Mon frowns. What narrative is he trying to sell? She turns to him, shooting him a questioning look. He ignores it.

“No matter, I’ll get them to set another place.” Mon wants to tell him not to, wants to tell him to enjoy his dinner with his ‘friends’ and they’ll rearrange, if he insists on the two of them having dinner but words fail her. She can barely string a thought together much less a sentence. Krennic moves towards her, brushing past her, his hips pressing against her in the briefest of touches but she feels it. 

“Mon...” His voice is gentle as he calls her name. He’s holding out the chair for her. Mon hasn’t moved. Her legs feel like lead. This was his plan all along. The seconds tick by excruciatingly slowly as she tries to make a decision. Does she cut her losses and get the hell out of there as soon as she can, or does she force herself to sit through dinner with these monsters? There’s not really a choice, she knows what she has to do but her legs will not move. It is as though her body is refusing to cooperate with her brain. She takes a breath, tells herself that she can do this, she's been doing it for years and then she's walking towards him; it feels as though she's walking to her downfall. Mon doesn't miss the irony of that, in some ways she is. One wrong move tonight and she could end up arrested by the ISB but if tonight is a success, she's potentially walking straight into Krennic’s grasp. Why had she decided that leading him on was a good idea? Why had she decided to play his game? This evening shouldn't come as a surprise to her, he's playing by his own set of rules. And she needs to start doing the same if she's going to win.

As she nears the seat, Krennic lifts his hands from the chair, holding them out for her jacket. It's such a small gesture, but it casts him in a different light and Mon wonders if in his personal life, there's a softer side to him, one that's actually human. She hands the jacket to him and he tenderly drapes it over his arm as though it's something precious. Again, Mon is struck by how different this man is to the one she spars with. She lowers herself into the seat and Krennic gently pushes her closer to the table. And then his fingers are on her arm, softly moving up towards her shoulder like silk against her skin. The tenderness of it, of him, is unnerving. He leans in close to her ear.

“I won't be long. Just make small talk.” He tells her before throwing her to the wolves.  Mon turns to the group, their beady eyes on her. She takes a breath. She can do this. Treat this as a mission for Luthen, she tells herself. 

Lagret is the first to acknowledge her. Of the group, he's probably the one who hates her the least. That fact offers her little comfort as she makes small talk with some of the worst of Palpatine's minions. She'd struggle to put a number on the lives lost as a result of these men and here she is engaging in small talk and about to share a meal with them. Nausea washes over her. A few off handed comments are made about her activities in the Senate, nothing that warrants a response so she doesn't, just smiles. 

Krennic reappears with a chair and a member of the waiting staff, who is armed with a place setting and cutlery. It's relief that Mon feels when sees him. Their eyes meet and she offers him perhaps the first genuine smile. He looks at her with curiosity. Has he noticed the smile is different? Mon hopes not. She's just made things much harder for herself if he has.

Krennic places the chair to her left and everyone moves around to make space. He waits for the waiter to set the place for him and then as the waiter turns to leave, Krennic orders a bottle of champagne before sitting down beside her.

“Did you survive?” His voice is teasing.

“Only just.” Is her response, and it's not a total lie.

“It hardly needs saying, anything discussed at this table stays at this table.” Krennic’s voice is barely above a whisper. “You don’t repeat it to any of your comrades in the Senate nor your husband, nor any of your somewhat treasonous friends.” Each word drips of a warning. Mon swallows. She’s just entered a minefield.

The server returns with an uncorked bottle of champagne and offers to pour it for Krennic. He declines, taking it from the server and pours champagne into Mon’s glass before handing it to her. Their fingers touch for a moment as she takes the glass from him.

“Thank you.” Her voice is polite. Perhaps she can do this. “Interesting choice.” She remarks before taking a sip.

“It was your drink of choice at the Emperor’s birthday party.” Krennic rebuts as he pours himself a glass, his tone almost dismissive. Mon frowns. He'd paid attention to what she was drinking and then remembered it. It's almost sweet.

“Sagrona.” The word sounds strange coming from his mouth and it absolutely floors her. How does he know the custom? She's never invited him to one of her parties, or events at the Embassy and she doesn't imagine he's spent any time on Chandrila. Again, she's wondering if she's been wrong about him. 

Almost on autopilot, she responds “Sagrona Teema.” And they both take a drink. “I didn’t know you'd been to Chandrila.”

“I haven't.” Mon wants to press him on that and how he knows the Chandrilan customs but she doesn't want to know the answer, she's too afraid of what he'll say. So instead, she stays quiet.

A waiter comes to take their orders, a small data pad in hand for recording their choices.

“I’m told parts of it are very beautiful. I’m surprised you chose to leave it for Coruscant.”

“Why? I wanted to be a Senator… to serve the people of Chandrila. ”

“Ah yes…” Krennic muses, a smirk pulling at his lips but any further response is stopped by the waiter reaching Mon.

“Senator Mothma…” He smiles at her. “Your usual?” 

“Not this evening, the Kapaio shrimp to start and scalefish for the main course.” Mon returns his smile. She’s not paying attention to what Krennic orders, not really interested in his food preferences but one part of his order catches her attention.

“And Profiteroles Ukio for the both of us to share.” 

Mon smiles at him before she speaks. “I don't want dessert.” Krennic ignores what she says, waving the waiter away. Mon decides to try a different tactic. She tilts her head towards him, her lips close to his ear. It's enough to get his attention.

“I don't want any dessert.” She repeats.

Krennic smirks. “I wasn't offering you any, it's only our first date, unless of course, you count all those Senate hearings you made me sit through.”

“I thought you enjoyed those enough to want to be compelled to testify again.” Her voice is low so that only he hears her words. To onlookers it would look intimate, selling Krennic’s narrative of the two of them.

Krennic laughs. “Oh Senator, I love debating with you but it's not quite what I'd call date material.”

“No?”

“Oh no, that's foreplay.” His eyes light up as he says it.

“So your long thought out strategy is to debate me into bed?” There’s a sarcastic tone to her words.

Krennic smirks. “Not exactly, but I'm glad you're coming around to the inevitable.”

“And what's that?”

“That you will end up in my bed.” Confidence oozes from his words.

“How sure you seem about that.” There’s a slight unintended edge to her tone.

“Oh I am. The thing I am not sure about is how long it will take you to submit.”

“Director, if it ever happens,” Mon keeps her voice steady as she speaks. “I won't be submitting.”

Krennic’s eyes flash with desire and he smirks. “And here I thought you would be a woman who liked relinquishing her power in the bedroom, after a long day being a powerful Senator.” That one stings. He of all people knows how powerless the Senate has become.

“So it's power, you want?”

“No, Mon. It's you. And if you want to fight me all the way, want to battle me for power, well… how thrilling that would be.”

“You must have a very boring life if you're looking for the thrill in everything.” She retorts.

He laughs. “On the contrary, it's fascinating. But it is missing one thing.” Mon doesn't dare ask what that one thing is. She doesn't think she needs to. She's starting to think that she could say yes to him at that moment and he'd accept it no questions asked but she's not prepared to take the risk. If this is going to work at all, it has to look as though it's gradual. She just hadn't expected it quite to go the way it has.

“Krennic, are you having the same issue?” Lagret shouts down the table before Mon can respond, interrupting their conversation.

“What issue would that be?” There’s an annoyance to his tone as though he’s frustrated by the interruption.

Lagret casts a glance at Mon. It's unsurprising that he doubts whether the conversation should be had in front of her, after all she is the most outspoken senator against the Empire in the Senate.

“She won't tell anyone.” Krennic reassures him. “Do you really think I would've brought her here tonight if she couldn't be trusted?” An odd sensation of guilt courses through her at his placing so much trust in her. If anything discussed tonight is important to the rebellion, she will be telling Luthen.

“Security on Eadu…”

“Morlana One was targeted by the rebels last week and they managed to steal a large volume of weapons.”  Lieutenant Heert adds. 

“I don't have that problem at any of my facilities. Security has never been a problem for me.” His tone is clipped. “Perhaps if you spent more time there and less time on Coruscant, you wouldn't have this issue.” Watching the interaction between them, Mon realises there's an uneasy alliance between the people around the table, they aren't friends. They're colleagues and Krennic is the one who outranks them all. With Krennic’s response, the conversation comes to a swift end.

“Eadu? That's where you're based? Mon asks, when Krennic’s attention turns back to her.

“It's one of the places.” His tone is matter of fact as he takes a drink of champagne.

“And how often are you there?”

“Worried you're going to miss me?” There’s a playfulness to his words.

“No, trying to ascertain why you missed a committee hearing last week.”

At that, Krennic frowns. “One of yours? I didn't receive the summons.”

“No, Senator Oran's.”

“You're talking to your friends about me?” He smirks.

“No, we went for drinks last week and I asked how his day had been and he told me that it had been quite pointless because his star witness hadn’t attended.”

“Star witness…” Krennic's smirk widens. “Perhaps I decided he wasn't a worthy opponent.”

“Why not? I enjoy debating with him.” Mon's not entirely sure why she's enjoying winding him up but she can't resist it.

“I bet you'd enjoy debating with me more.”

The first course arrives before Mon can respond. As she starts to eat, the conversation around her and Krennic ebbs and flows, Mon’s listening but not a part of it. They’re mainly discussing the projects they’re working on for the Emperor. Mon listens to every word, gathering what information she can for the rebellion. 

“And then there’s what happened on Garel.”  She’s not sure who says it. “Rebels hiding there all that time…  how are we supposed to maintain control over systems when they can’t even detect rebel cells on their planets?”

“If the problems are really bad in the Lothal Sector, you could take a Ferrix approach.” Agent Kallus of the ISB offers. Utter contempt for the man washes over Mon. How dare he! People died on Ferrix at the hand of Imperial Officers and any attempt to launch a commission into what happened keeps being stalled by Partagaz despite Bail's bill passing the Senate with an overwhelming majority. 

Someone laughs at the comment. She's not sure who. “I think that might be too generous for the people of Garel City.” The overwhelming urge to run out of there crashes over Mon. A retort forms on her tongue but she bites her lip to stop her from saying anything. Krennic tenses beside her and she wonders if he's worried she'll say something. This could be the moment it all comes crashing down around her. But she won’t let it. It takes every ounce of her willpower not to respond.

“Could always just arrest them and lock them up.” Kallus adds as the table is cleared of the first course. There’s an awkward silence as the empty plates are removed and replaced with the second course, no-one wanting the conversation to be overheard by anyone who shouldn’t be privy to it.

“On what grounds?” Lagret asks.

“They’re probably rebels?” Kallus responds and again the people sitting around the table laugh. Mon is seething. The P.O.R.D was bad enough used against people who were guilty of crimes but to use it to lock up people who were innocent would be inhumane, which is precisely why she’s been trying over and over to get it repealed. The glee with which these men talk about using it and using violence, of killing people makes her blood run cold. How far is the Empire prepared to go to maintain its twisted and barbaric control over the galaxy? She thinks of Vel and her little band of rebels, wonders where they are and what trouble they’re causing the Empire. 

“Of course, it was easier when Dr Ghorst was alive.” That comment fills her with disgust. Ghorst tortured suspects to get information. 

“Suspected rebel… send them to Ghorst… need information… send them to Ghorst.” The table laughs. Even Krennic, who hadn’t previously, chuckles beside her. Mon’s stomach flips. She has a vision of what her life would be like if she were to be involved with him romantically: an endless parade of dinners and parties like this, biting her tongue trying not to say anything as they make jokes about torturing dissidents and not speaking out against it as she plays the well behaved and loyal consort to one of the Emperor’s favourites. Can she really survive that, even if it is just for show? At what point would the hatred she feels turn to loathing and then to planning his demise or would she lose herself before she ever got to that stage?

“Is your daughter still on Coruscant?” Krennic asks and Mon suspects it’s to distract her. No doubt, he thinks she’s a time bomb waiting to go off.

“No, she’s returned to Chandrila.” 

“She’s married, isn’t she?” Krennic inquires. “I think I saw pictures of it on the holonet.”

“She is, yes.” Mon smiles wistfully.

“But she’s young?” Krennic continues.

“Sixteen.”

“That can’t have been easy for you…” Krennic states. Mon frowns. “Her flying the nest so young.” 

It wasn’t but then Leida and Mon don’t have a great relationship. She’s not going to tell him that. He offers her a soft smile but all it does is create more confusion. How can the man who held out her chair for her, who learned her planet’s customs and remembered her choice of drink, who tries to offer her comfort over her daughter reaching adulthood be the same man who laughs about torturing people?

“Come now Krennic, you’re monopolising the Senator.” Sly Moore exclaims, interrupting their conversation. Mon’s stomach turns. She knows Sly, he’s a friend of Perrin’s and cannot stand her. 

“Well, she is my date.” Krennic responds before leaning in close to her. “Just ignore him. You’re the shiny new toy at the table, he’ll get bored.” 

“If she’s to be a regular member of the party, you’re going to have to share her.” The innuendo isn't lost on her. Angry humiliation simmers in her veins.

“Perhaps, I’ll just keep her to myself.” Mon feels as though she’s been slapped. How dare he! There’s a few chuckles around the table and she can feel tears pricking her eyes. She clenches her fist, digging her nails into the palm of her hand to stop them from falling. She will not cry in front of them.

Sly Moore responds to Krennic but she doesn’t hear the answer. In truth, she doesn’t hear much of what is being said around her. Her hand trembles as she picks up her glass and slowly raises it to her lips, emptying it. The liquid fizzles on her tongue but the pleasure she usually feels has been replaced by something sour. Mon casts a glance around the people at the table, as her gaze lands on each of the men, she makes a list in her mind of all of the terrible things they’ve done in the name of the Emperor and finds them guilty of atrocities. The women she labels as guilty by association. But what does that make you ? What will it make you? The voice is so small in her head. Mon pushes it away. Krennic is speaking again. She has no idea what he's saying. 

When dessert is served, it's as though she's on autopilot. At first, she refuses to have any but then she thinks better of it. If she complies with Krennic, he might leave her alone. Absent-mindedly, she picks up her spoon, dips it into the pastry dessert, collects a small amount on the spoon and then lifts it to her mouth. Krennic watches as she does. The caramel ganache filling explodes in her mouth, overwhelming her senses but Mon takes no pleasure from it. How can she after what’s just had to listen to? These men are monsters, profiting off the suffering of others and then for them to suggest what they had about her and her not being able to respond has created a numbness.

“I knew that you'd like it.” There's a smugness to him and it riles her up. 

She wants to tell him that he doesn’t know anything about her. But she doesn’t. Sometimes silence is more effective and she suspects that this is one of those times. Krennic lets her eat the dessert in peace, his gaze occasionally lingering on her. A few times, their spoons clink against one another as they share the Profiteroles Ukio. Each time, Mon quickly moves hers away.

“You know…” Krennic says, his voice low and smooth. “It would probably be easier if you let me feed you.” Mon ignores the comment, causing Krennic to frown at her. Where’s her sharp comeback? Mon’s only response is to place her spoon on the edge of the plate and to pick up her glass, taking a long drink of champagne. Perhaps the alcohol will dull her senses and she’ll feel less like she wants to kill every single person in the room. Out of etiquette or politeness or perhaps for some other reason, Krennic also lays his spoon down, finished with dessert. 

Sensing that something is off with her, he tries to engage Mon in conversation, asks her questions about Chandrila and her childhood as though he’s trying to get to know her. Mon’s responses take the form of one or two word answers, barely providing him with any new information. Her lack of engagement starts to irritate him and he considers making a comment that he knows will rile her up and hopefully provoke her into debating with him but then he remembers who else is sat around the table and the risk that could pose to her safety if anyone else heard her. So, he decides against it. He asks about her daughter again, that seemed to be a safe topic early and one that she is prepared to talk to him about but even that fails to fully engage her in the conversation. Krennic’s confused, he’s not entirely sure when the evening turned so sour. Mon suspects that it started that way; she was just too focused on not saying the wrong thing to notice it. How could she have been stupid enough to agree to this? Of course they were going to say the things they did, they believed in it, they practiced it and Krennic was a part of it. But then she knew that when she started this, she reminds herself. She cannot be annoyed at them for being exactly who they are. Yes, Krennic has shown a different side of himself but he’s still Director Krennic of the ISB, that doesn’t change just because he acted as a gentleman. And Mon is going to have to resolve herself to that fact if she’s to continue with her plan, otherwise it will never work. She cannot get annoyed at him every time he shows his true colours. But what she can be annoyed about and what she is annoyed about is that he forced into this evening, didn’t consider her feelings at all or if he did, he didn’t care enough about them. She’s not entirely sure why it has the effect on her that it does, nor is she prepared to think too deeply into it.

Instead, just to irritate him a bit, she starts a conversation with the woman sitting opposite her; she’s not sure of her name, just that she’s with Agent Kallus. They talk about stuff that Mon would usually find shallow and mind numbingly boring but tonight she doesn’t mind as she feels the frustration oozing out of Krennic. He’s wound so tightly at her very public rejection of him and the thought of it fills her with a sick sense of satisfaction. Is this how he feels whenever he lands a point? It’s an alien feeling and not one she particularly likes. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Heert and Lagret talking and Heert gesturing towards Mon and Krennic. Have they picked up on the tension? She suspects they have and it won’t be long before the others notice. The two of them have gone from intimate looking private conversations to barely talking and to everyone else it will look as though they’ve had a lovers’ tiff, after all Krennic’s been suggesting they are involved all evening. Let them think that; it hides the truth well enough and Krennic will not correct it. 

And then, at last, Sly Moore announces to the table that it’s time he and his female companion left. Krennic stands from his seat, the two exchange words as Moore passes by their side of the table and offers a goodbye to her. As the two men are speaking, Ars Dangor decides to follow suit. Mon breathes out a sigh of relief. The evening is winding down and hopefully she’ll be able to leave soon, return to the apartment, have a very hot shower and wash the grime of the evening from her skin before forgetting it ever occurred. In the next few days, she’ll reach out to Luthen and tell him what she knows but for tonight she just wants it over with.  

Krennic sits back down at the table, angling his body so that he’s facing her. He’s studying her face and she knows the question before it is asked, prepares the answer in her head so that it comes across as believable. 

“Well, you’ve barely said a word since dessert. What’s bothering you?”

“When you asked me to dinner, I thought it would just be us.” She decides to take the safer option to avoid creating a rift between the two of them. Krennic smirks, placing a hand on the back of her chair. His other hand, he rests on her thigh. Mon fights the urge to move out of his reach. They might not be involved but it certainly appears that way to the rest of the table.

“And you’re worried about this getting out? Don’t worry Senator , our merry band won’t tell anyone that you’re my guest.”

“And my husband?” Mon questions. “Two of the people we just had dinner with happen to be old friends of his. I'm sure they won’t tell him that I've been having dinner with another man.”

“Mon, if you’re worried about it, I’ll have a word but they won’t say anything to anyone.” His thumb gently strokes her inner thigh. 

“You’ll have a word? And just like that all is forgotten.”

“I’d hope not.” He’s smirking. Mon wants to wipe it from his face, her anger returning. But she doesn’t respond, just rises from her seat. Krennic watches as she does it, a frown replacing the smirk. Under different circumstances, Mon would enjoy having the power to be unpredictable but she can’t tonight. She’s seething. She turns away from him, and thanks the rest of the attendees for a lovely evening. It’s through gritted teeth but she manages to say it, a lifetime in politics serving her well. From beside her, Krennic bids them all a good evening. It doesn’t surprise her that he’s intending to leave with her, they came together after all and he’s spent the evening selling the narrative that they’re together. She offers a final fake smile to no-one in particular and then she’s walking away from the table. Krennic places his hand on her back and though she wants to move out of his reach, she doesn’t. Tension sizzles between them. The urge to confront him washes over Mon but she ignores it, much like she’s ignoring him. She stops at the bar, requests her coat and asks the host to call for her driver.

“Mon, don’t be silly. I’ll drop you off.” Krennic offers, his voice softer than before. Gone is the irritating arrogance that normally accompanies it. Mon wants to refuse him but she doesn’t. She doesn’t say a word, just lets him escort her out of the restaurant to his waiting speeder once the restaurant host has returned with her coat. Later, she’ll tell herself that the only reason she agreed is because it gets her home quicker.

They sit in an uncomfortable silence as the speeder winds through Coruscant. Mon is sitting as close to the door as she can get, the distance between them palpable. Weariness seeps into her bones, much the way it does after an argument with Perrin, only she’s spent the evening with Krennic and they haven’t really argued. She watches out the window, her eyes following the lights of Coruscant. She can feel him watching her, the way one might watch a caged animal waiting for it to lash out. But she’s too tired to lash out. So instead, they sit in silence.

The speeder comes to a stop outside of her apartment and the door opens. Krennic reaches for her arm but he’s too slow, it’s already out of his reach. Mon steps out of the speeder, turning back to him to deliver one final blow in an attempt to salvage something from the evening.

“For the record Director Krennic, if you're wanting to make any progress with me, wanting to wear me down at all… the little charade you've just put me through is not how to do it.” And then she's walking away from him towards the apartment. He doesn't follow after her, doesn’t say a word, just lets her go with the realisation that tonight he might’ve overplayed his hand, misjudged the situation and perhaps his senator isn’t as malleable as he thought.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Mon wakes to the sound of rain thrashing against the window. She groans. She can't remember the last time it rained on Coruscant. Slowly, she clambers out of bed with as much grace as a loth cat and makes her way to the bedroom window. She pulls the curtain back and glances out the window. The sky is a grey abyss stretching across the city. Apt, she thinks, it matches her mood. To say she'd sleep well would be a complete lie. She'd spent most of the night lying awake relitigating the night's events over and over, analysing every word spoken and its meaning. When she finally drifted off, her sleep was fitful. For a moment, she considers getting back into bed and writing the day off, it would help ease her headache. But then her comms link is buzzing with a message from Perrin: he's planning on returning to Coruscant and wants to take her out that evening. Mon smiles softly. It'll be good to have him back. She shoots out a reply, telling him that it would be lovely and then gets ready for the day. It’s a long time since they’ve done anything just the two of them without there being an ulterior purpose.

The Senate is alive with activity when she arrives later that morning, her clothes damp from the rain and in a foul mood, one that she blames Krennic for. The Senate corridors are busy with senators and their staff as she navigates through the halls to her office, stopping every so often to speak to somebody. Erksin's waiting for her when she finally makes it to her office.

“Morning Senator.” He’s too cheery for so early in the morning.

“Could you get me something to ease my headache?” Mon asks him, her temples are pulsing. She thinks it's from lack of sleep. “I'll be heading out soon.”

“Check your calendar before you do.” Erskin tells her. “I've added a meeting.” Mon's not really listening to him as she enters her office, her attention is on preparing for her first meeting. She hears the door shut behind Erskin as he heads out in search of something to dull her headache. Mon goes to her desk, opens one of the drawers and takes out the pile of papers resting on the top. She quickly scans them, puts back the ones she doesn't need and then heads over to the filing cabinet to do the same thing with the top drawer.

It's not long before Erskin's returning with a bottle of painkillers and a cup of steaming tea. He places them on her desk.

“Did you check your calendar?” He asks.

“No, I haven't had a chance. Will you block out this evening for me? Perrin’s back.”

“Of course.” Erksin smiles. “Your first meeting should be here soon.” He adds but Mon's not listening. Sensing her distraction, Erskin retreats from her office and returns to his own.

Mon’s just collecting her things together, preparing to head out when there’s a knock at the door to her office.

“Come in.” She says absentmindedly, flicking through the documents in her hand, ensuring for the second time that she has everything she needs.

“Hi…” Mon purses her lips at the voice. Slowly she turns to face him. She had not been expecting him of all people to be lingering in the doorway.

“You learned how to knock.” There’s a coldness to her tone. Her anger from the night before is still present. It’s as though they’ve reverted back to where they were before Sculdun’s party, a wall between them.

“You asked, I delivered.” Is the response he gives, a teasing to his words. Mon studies him for a moment, he looks nervous. Her final comment to him last night has left him unsure around her. It confuses her. Where is his arrogance? The air is thick between them. Mon waits for him to speak but he doesn’t.

“I'm late for a meeting.” She exclaims at last, more to get him out of her office than anything else.

“It's me… I made an appointment this morning with your...” Mon resists the urge to laugh, of course he did. Under different circumstances, it would be quite amusing. Today, it’s not. She’s still livid at him for his comments last night. The problem Mon has is that she’s not sure how much of it is genuine anger and how much of it is her pretending. She’s not sure where the line between the two is and that worries her.  She’s not sure why she’s angry with him over what he said. If the two of them were involved and he’d said it, she could understand it but they’re not. And then there’s the fact that he forced her to sit through the dinner in the first place but she can’t be angry at that, not really, not if she doesn’t want to invite questions about where her loyalties lie. So for now, she has to let that one go.  

She glances at the calendar open on her datapad. There is a meeting scheduled for now, added first thing but it doesn’t say who the meeting is supposed to be with. She’ll take Krennic at his word, he has no reason to lie about it. It was so last minute, Erskin probably just forgot to put the details into the appointment slot in her diary. 

“Oh, the one I cancelled because the meeting I'm late for is on the other side of Coruscant.” It’s only a half lie. If she'd known about its existence, she would've cancelled it anyway. 

“You cancelled it?” She can hear the doubt in his voice. “Was that before or after you knew it was with me ?” Mon resists the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, he would take it personally. Perhaps he’s correct on this occasion, not because it’s with him but because she doesn’t have the energy to keep her mask in place for the duration of an entire meeting, not when she’s barely slept, her head is pounding and she’s still frustrated over last night.

“Director Krennic, I didn’t know it was with you. I asked my assistant to cancel it because I need to be on the other side of the planet in less than an hour for another meeting.” Mon reasons, her voice clinical, in the hope that it will stop him from thinking there’s more to it.

“Well, I’m here now.” Krennic shrugs, his voice, once again, laced with that infamous arrogance of his. Mon might be the only person that isn’t moved to action by it. Of course he would expect her to drop everything just because he’s in her office. The implication that he’s more important than everything else in her diary for the day riles her up.

“And I’m late.” Mon retorts. “By all means wait around in my office but I have this meeting followed by several others and then dinner with my husband if he makes it back to Coruscant in time to take me out and if not… well I suspect we’ll stay in for the evening.” Krennic’s eyes burn with jealousy and fury as the meaning behind her words sets in. She gets a kick out of his reaction, her exasperation with him the reason why she implies what she does.

“That… sounds like a very dull day.” Krennic takes a step towards her as he emphasises the words. “All work and no play.” Mon doesn’t respond to his insinuation.

“Excuse me.” She raises an eyebrow at him and waits for him to step out of her way. At first, Krennic doesn’t move, just blocks her exit. The two of them are standing so close together, it wouldn’t take much for either one to reach out and touch the other. Mon’s reminded of the feel of his hand on her thigh last night, the gentle ministrations and what they were doing to her body. Her disgust at everything else that was going on had allowed her to ignore it but the ghost of it had lingered like a phantom imprint on her skin long after they’d left the restaurant. For a moment, she thinks he’s going to reach for her. Her breath quickens. But then he drops his hand and moves out of her way.

“Good day, Senator.” He calls after her as she leaves her office, his tone is cold. Mon doesn’t respond. She doesn’t know where they stand anymore. She’d half been expecting an apology from him after the way they’d left things. Why else would he have turned up to her office first thing but evidently, that wasn’t what he had in mind. 

When one of her meetings concludes early, Mon takes the free window in her day as an opportunity to visit Luthen and fill him in on the events of the day before. It’s one of those rare days that she’s managed to get from one meeting to another without the need for a driver and has walked to the gallery without Kloris hovering like a bad smell. There’s no customers when she arrives, just Luthen. 

“Senator Mothma, to what do we owe this pleasure?” His voice is sickly sweet in case there’s ISB agents lingering around.

“I was at a dinner last night and one of the guests suggested you might have some pieces that would be of interest to me.” The lie slips past her lips effortlessly. A brief moment of recognition passes across Luthen’s expression.

“A dinner, you say and who was the loyal customer who suggested you stop by.” Luthen asks continuing the pretence. They don’t know who’s walking past the gallery. Anyone of them could be ISB and neither Mon nor Luthen is prepared to drop their guard just yet. They know better than anyone how dangerous loose lips can be.

“I can't remember if it was Sly Moore or Lagret or Agent Kallus. It wasn't Director Krennic…” Luthen’s eyes widen as she lists who she spent the evening with. 

“Indeed, I know the pieces you mean, come through to the back.” He exclaims leading her through to the back room of the gallery. 

“You had dinner with them?” Luthen rounds on her as soon as they are away from any prying eyes or ears. 

“Not by choice, Krennic railroaded me into it.” Mon’s voice is defensive.

“And?” Mon narrows her eyes at him, briefly wondering if he’s like this with everyone in the rebel network. Again, she finds herself thinking of Vel, wondering what Luthen has her doing. 

“What do you know about Eadu?” She softens her voice, being angry with him won’t achieve anything.

“It's a planet of nerf herders, isn't it?” Luthen frowns.

“Director Krennic's work is based there.”

“What's he doing on Eadu of all places?” His frown deepens.

“He wouldn't tell me but there's an Imperial facility on the planet that he oversees. He heads up the Emperor’s energy project among other things.”

“The energy project is based on Eadu? Why?” There’s disbelief in his tone. “Is he likely to tell you anymore?” Mon resists the urge to roll her eyes. Of course he would be thinking about what more he can gleam from her and what other use she has to him. Is there anyone in his life he doesn’t value by how much use they have?

“That depends on whether I've blown things.” Mon shrugs. She’s not committing to anything involving Krennic, Luthen expects too much from her and with Krennic, she doesn’t know if she can deliver on it.

“I'm not following.”

“Things at dinner got a bit tense.” Mon plays it down, it’s better he doesn’t know how close she came to losing control. “Did you target Morlana One?” She asks, not giving him the chance to respond to her earlier comment.

“Not my people. Why?” Luthen shakes his head. That’s interesting. Who did target Morlana One if it wasn’t Luthen’s network? Perhaps it was Bail’s people. 

“It came up at dinner.” Mon shrugs, reducing its importance.

“Anything else come up?” Luthen asks her.

“Arresting anyone who ‘ might ’ be a rebel on the grounds that they might be a rebel. ”

“ Well, we knew that would come in eventually… they're tightening their grip because they're terrified they'll lose control.” Luthen shrugs it off. There’s the ring of a bell. Luthen has a customer.

“Have you got anything less showy?” Mon asks, her mask slipping back in place.

“There's a few out the front. Are you still interested in artefacts from the Lost Empire?” At once, Luthen falls back into his role of gallery owner and collector. They make their way back into the front area of the gallery. Luthen’s new customer turns out to be Kleya. She greets Mon and then heads over to polish one of the artefacts on display.

“Depends what you have for me.” Mon says to Luthen and he leads her over to a display cabinet by the window. He’s telling her the synopsis of one of the pieces he has when a man stops out of his speeder across the street. Krennic. 

A loud noise to his right forces him to turn and find the source. An elderly man has knocked something over. It’s of no interest to him but as he turns back around, something in the corner of his eye catches his attention and stops him. Senator Mothma is in the antiques gallery. That explains their closeness the night of Sculdun’s party: she’s a patron of the galley. He watches for a moment, fascinated by the way eyes are lit up at whatever Luthen is telling her. She looks much happier than she had been when speaking to him earlier. And then the two are moving away from the window. Krennic’s about to move away when he notices she’s headed for the door and appears to be empty handed. She doesn’t see him as she leaves the gallery and turns left on the other side of the street walking away from him. Krennic frowns, where is her driver? Surely, she hasn’t walked all the way from the Senate? More importantly, she’s under ISB surveillance, where is her driver? The ISB officer in him wants to follow her, to make sure she’s not up to something she shouldn’t be but he’ll be late for his appointment if he does and that’s more important than following Senator Mothma, who is most likely headed back to her office. So, he lets her go this time.

Perrin arrives back in Coruscant earlier than Mon had expected and is already waiting for her in her office when she makes it back from her last meeting of the day. He's bending Erskin’s ear about some of the changes made to Hanna City since they were last there and Erskin looks as though he'd be glad of a rescue.

“Perrin,” Mon offers him a smile, there's a warmth to it that's genuine and Mon realises that she's missed him not just his presence. “Am I late?” She frowns, she'd deliberately left enough time to get back to her office and then head home to change quickly.

“Darling,” Perrin stands up and walks over to her. “No, I'm early. If you're all finished here, I thought we could grab a drink before dinner?” He kisses her cheek.

“That depends where you're taking me. I wanted to get changed first.” 

“It's up to you,” He shrugs. “Drinks or get changed?” A slight frown crosses Mon's features. It's so unlike him to give her the option of passing on going for a drink. Should she compromise and meet him halfway? But then she remembers it's Benduday and the Coruscanti nightlife will be in full swing.

“I'll change, if that's okay?”

“Of course.” He smiles and there's no hint of insincerity in it. “Erskin, go and enjoy your evening.” Perrin says to Mon's aid in an attempt to get his wife out of her office before she can change her mind or find some work that needs done urgently. 

An hour later, Mon is sliding across the smooth seats of  their speeder, having changed out of her work clothes into a dress and re-styled her hair. Perrin settles in beside her. He places his hand in hers and angles his body to face hers as he begins to tell her about his time away. Only Perrin could go home to be with his ill uncle and come back with stories of parties and dinners.

The speeder pulls up outside of the same restaurant she'd been in last night. Mon groans to herself. She knows why Perrin has chosen it: it's one of her favourites, or at least it used to be. She appreciates the gesture, the thoughtfulness of it but it also creates an awkward guilt deep within her. Last night, she'd been here with another man and tonight she's there with her husband. The host clocks her as soon as they walk in, confusion crosses his face. Mon shakes her head discreetly and receives a nod in response. Her secret is safe, Perrin will not find out.

The host greets them both and advises that their table is ready before leading them over to the private dining area. Mon wants the ground to swallow her whole as she realises where they are headed. It's like the universe is playing with her. Thankfully, the host walks past the table where her and Krennic had been sitting last night to a more private, more intimate table. Briefly, she wonders if Perrin requested it. Again, she appreciates his thoughtfulness. As the two of them catch up with the host, he asks if the table is suitable. Perrin confirms that it is, a strange look in his eye. He definitely requested it. As they take their seats, Perrin orders a bottle of Chandrilan Blue ‘439 and Mon is grateful he opted for that and not champagne. 

“I heard a rumour…” There’s a teasing to his words and it catches Mon off guard. Usually when he mentions rumours, he’s referring to the ones about her and Tay but he cannot be meaning them. “Apparently you were out last night.” Perrin continues. Dread crashes over Mon. How did he find out? She’d avoided coverage on the Holonet and Krennic had assured her that none of the attendees would tell anyone.

“I was.” There’s no point denying it.

“With Sly Moore, of all people.” Mon purses her lips, of course he’d told Perrin, probably enjoyed it too. She wonders how long after leaving the restaurant he’d contacted Perrin. “Imagine my surprise.” He’s still teasing her but there is something else hiding behind his words.

“It wasn’t by choice.” Mon’s tone is automatically defensive. “Krennic roped me into it. I thought he wanted to discuss his newest funding request.” Perrin laughs.

“I’m not sure which sounds worse…”

“Having experienced both…” Mon smiles at him, it’s playful. “I think the dinner was definitely  worse.” Perrin laughs again. 

“And you survived the whole evening?” There’s disbelief in his tone. “Without getting into an argument with them?” 

“Yes.” She smiles as the waiter returns with the bottle of wine. Unlike Krennic, Perrin lets the waiter pour the wine into their glasses. Mon pushes that thought out of her head. She doesn't need to be comparing the two of them.

“What else did you get up whilst I was away?” Perrin asks, watching her with a curiosity. It’s odd, this new found interest in her.

“Not much.” She replies, taking a sip of wine. “Work mainly.”

“Anything of note?” Perrin continues but the conversation feels stilted, as though he’s trying too hard. 

“That depends on what you find interesting, doesn’t it?” Mon’s voice is light as she speaks and though it’s not forced, it’s not quite natural, as though something is missing. There’s no depth to it. Perrin smirks at her response; they both know he’s not going to start a discussion on politics. He couldn’t keep up with her if he tried, and that’s another thing that’s missing. It’s not missing with him though. Mon shuts the thought down as soon as it enters her head, turning her attention back to Perrin. He's giving her that look, the one that used to make her go weak at the knees, now it just tells her that he wants her. So does the angle of his body during dinner and the way his foot keeps brushing against her ankle. It’s unlike Perrin to be so publicly affectionate with her and she suspects it’s jealousy; he’s jealous that she went out to dinner without him, he’s jealous that she ended up at dinner with his male friends and the part of him that has always been a bit possessive, has to prove to himself that she’s his. She plays along with it, lets him touch her wherever he wants, leans in close to him as he speaks, creating the illusion of a very happily married couple whilst wondering what it is that feels so off. It’s not until halfway through dessert that Mon realises it’s that she’s subconsciously spent the last few hours comparing Perrin to Krennic without even noticing she was doing it. Guilt slices through her. How could she possibly compare the two? One’s a monster and the other is… well Perrin. How could she be comparing them? She’s not even seriously considering doing anything with Krennic and if she’s honest, she probably never was. Could she do it to Perrin? He might not always be the best husband, but he doesn’t deserve that, nor does he deserve her comparing him to another man whilst they're out for the evening nor does he deserve her thinking about another man's hand on her thigh, the way it's been on her mind most of the day.

She's not entirely sure why she gives in to Perrin’s attention, why she allows it to affect her to the extent that she initiates sex when they get back to the apartment. Is it because she's spent the last few hours comparing him to Krennic, whilst his touch still lingers on her skin? Is it because she needs to purge his touch from her? Is it because things are finally good between the two of them and she refuses to ruin that? Sex has never been a problem between them, even in the periods where they were simply existing around each other. Even then he'd been able to bring her to orgasm and it hadn't been bad so why is the feel of Krennic’s touch on her thigh plaguing her?

Perrin’s particularly attentive tonight, the foreplay stretching out longer than usual, leaving her writhing beneath him but, for a brief moment, when he finally enters her, it's Krennic that Mon sees above her. Perrin’s soft hiss of her name and firm stroke across her clit quickly disappears the image but Mon can't ignore that it was there. Disgust pools in her stomach. What is wrong with her? Why him ?

Once Perrin is asleep, Mon slips out of the bedroom and quietly tiptoes into the bathroom. She cleans up, splashes cold water over her face and neck and then hoists herself up onto the windowsill and stares out at the Coruscanti night. It’s a long time since she’s done it. A lifetime seems to have passed since then and she barely recognises the woman she’d been that night. She’d initiated sex with Perrin that night too and found herself in the same spot afterwards. Tonight though, there’s much more on her mind, questions she doesn’t have the answer to and the ones she does, she wishes she didn’t. And all of them are about him. Oh she hates him. She hates how much he’s managed to crawl his way under her skin and decides she needs to put some difference between them. 

Fate, however, has other ideas and brings them together the following day when he turns up to a round of Oversight Committee hearings. The summons went out weeks ago and she’d completely forgotten about it until she casts a glance at the witness list. Dread pools in the pit of Mon’s stomach when she sees the name amongst the long list of witnesses. Last to give evidence on why an increase in funding is needed for his project is Director Krennic. She hasn’t seen him since he showed up at her office and demanded a meeting. He avoids looking at her as he walks into the room and takes his seat before the committee members. To her surprise, Mon feels a bit disappointed. What is wrong with her?   She takes a moment to collect her thoughts and then brings the committee to order.

“Director Krennic, thank you for appearing before us today.” She smiles.

“I must say, this is getting ridiculous.” Krennic responds, finally looking at her. “One would think you enjoy having me testify before you, either that or you enjoy wasting my time.” His response catches her off guard. Why is he being so off with her? Was his ego so bruised yesterday morning when she cancelled his meeting because she didn’t have time for him? Is that really how he wants to play this? Fine, Mon thinks. She can make this the worst few hours of his life.

“Director Krennic, how many times have you appeared before this committee?” Her tone is intentionally cold as she switches back to the unimpressed senator who's had enough of his bullshit. 

“This committee?” Krennic queries, his meaning evident. Mon ignores his reference to the time she'd stood in for Bail Organa and raises an eyebrow at him. “This would be the seventh.” Besides Mon, Senator Pamlo hisses.

“And at which of these appearances did we ask for a full report of your project?” Mon continues, asking questions she already knows the answer to.

“The first.” Krennic answers, through gritted teeth. “But reports take time.”

“Yet you've managed to submit three funding applications in that time.” Her tone suggests that there's no room for manoeuvre. Krennic's eyes shift to hers. They're cold.

“Funding applications don't require expert reports.” Is the icy reply she receives. Mon smirks.

“How can we possibly agree to more funding without knowing what we'd be funding.” She asks. A glacial tension settles over the small committee room. Senator Pamlo lets out a deep breath. They all know Mon well enough, have been in enough hearings and debates with her to know she's about to go toe to toe with Krennic. Some of her adversaries refer to her as Hurricane Mon when she's on this form, the storm that destroys everything in its path and Director Orson Krennic decided to step into her path today.

“Trust?” Krennic throws out the word with the flick of his hand, his eyes never leaving Mon. His choice of word is intentional. Mon wills her expression to stay neutral.

“Trust? If I remember correctly, this Committee has trusted you six times to submit your report, yet we still don't have it.” Her response is scathing and Krennic flinches. “Trust is earned.” Mon chooses the words deliberately certain he won't miss the throwback to when he'd said them to her. 

“And you've done nothing to earn it.” With her words, it's as though all of the air has been sucked out of the room. Neither of them is certain when it switched from professional to personal. And it's not until they've fallen off the knife edge that Mon realises this will not be as easy as she thought, she won't be able to stop herself getting in too deep. She should shut it down, move the questioning in a different direction, pull them back across the line but then Krennic answers her non question.

“You're right. Trust is earned. Let me earn it here and now.” His eyes bore into hers as he says it, as though there's only the two of them in the room. And then suddenly, they're not in the small committee room, they're back in 500 Republica and Krennic’s asking her to stay.

“And how do you propose to do that?” Senator Pamlo asks and the spell is broken. Mon silently thanks the senator for her intervention.

“By providing you with the information you require.”

“Very well Director Krennic.” Mon appears to relent but they both know round two is just beginning. “What specifically is the energy project?” Anger flashes across Krennic’s expression as he realises how she’s going to play it. She's not even prepared to start with easy questions before moving on to ones that he’s going to struggle to answer.

“It's a research project.” He quips, a smirk pulling at his lips. Your move.

“ What are you researching?”

“Energy.” The answer is smug.

Mon purses her lips. Of course, he would make it difficult. “Director Krennic, if you're not going to cooperate, this is pointless.”

“A way of harnessing enough power to fuel the galaxy.” Mon doesn't miss his switch from using the word energy to power.

“What kind of power?”

“The kind that comes from using minerals.” Mon frowns. He cannot be serious. He's lying to cover up what he's really doing. But then Mon reads his expression. He's telling the truth.

“Minerals?” She cannot hide the disbelief in her voice. “As an energy source?” Krennic glares at her.

“Yes.” He seethes.

“Is a lack of positive results the reason we don't have a report from you?” Mon can't resist making the jibe. Krennic doesn't respond.

“And where is this research taking place?” She asks, venturing close to dangerous territory.

“Here on Coruscant.” Well, that's a lie, Mon thinks. “And Christophsis . ” That's interesting. He hasn't mentioned Eadu, instead picking two locations that wouldn't raise anyone's suspicions, and they both know that she knows he has a facility on Eadu. He's daring her to ask, knowing she won't. 

“So not on Eadu then?” Mon tilts her head and purses her lips. Your move.

Krennic laughs. “Have you ever been to Eadu? Why would anyone choose to set up a research facility there?” He's got her there and she cannot challenge him without breaking her word. For a moment, she considers it. What would he do if she did? The one thing that stops her is that there would be no going back if she did. Whilst she doesn’t know what she will do beyond the hearing, whether she’ll stick with her original plan or abandon it, she doesn’t want to take away the option of continuing with it and pushing him too far would do exactly that.

“And yet there's an Imperial presence on the planet.” Mon retorts. That information could've been obtained from anywhere. Krennic's jaw twitches. Mon smirks. She's achieved what she set out to achieve and laid the groundwork for her fellow committee members to submit him to equally gruelling questioning. And they do. She hands over to them and then sits back to admire her handiwork. Krennic is livid. At first, relief washes over him as he realises that Mon's finished interrogating him and then Senator Dhow starts asking questions and they're just as bad as Mon's. It doesn’t take him long to realise that Mon's to blame for the inquisition and he directs his answers at her. At first, they're defensive and then somewhere in the midst of the questions about imperial resources, a chill slips into his tone and that is much more dangerous. Mon realises it's gone too far but she can't stop it. He's still glaring at her but she’s now met with an impenetrable wall of ice. Mon raises an eyebrow at him as if to say “what did you expect?” She doesn’t imagine it will do anything to thaw the situation or bring them closer to a detente but right now, she’s not sure she wants one. What she wants is to spend a romantic evening with her husband without comparing the two of them; what she wants is to be able to play him and use him, then walk away without any difficulty. But it’s becoming increasingly clear that neither of those things are going to happen. 

The atmosphere is glacial. Senator Tural is the last to ask questions.  When Krennic answers the final one, the room lets out a sigh of relief, the excruciating ordeal is finally over. They’d all contributed to it and yet all wanted to be anywhere else as it was happening. Mon should never have gone down the route she did, should never have started it, should never have set the stage for a gruelling battle of wills between them but something about him pushes her to do it.

“The committee will discuss your application and make a decision on your request shortly.” Mon plasters a smile on her face, her voice sickly sweet. Krennic refuses to look at her, just storms out of the room. Mon waits a few minutes to give him enough time to get out of the building and then heads back to her office.

“You win.” The voice surprises her. Mon turns to see Krennic walking across the plaza towards her.

“What?” She asks, frowning. She has no idea what he's talking about.

“You win.” Mon scoffs, what is he talking about? “You felt humiliated by me and my friends so you, in turn, humiliated me.” He’s spent the last few days trying to figure out how their dinner went so wrong and things became so cold between them and the only thing he can blame for it is a comment made by Sly Moore that he should've called out but he didn't. Moore hadn't meant anything by it and neither had Krennic meant anything by his response to the comment but they had been inappropriate. In truth, if Mon was his , there would be no question of sharing her with anyone. It's bad enough sharing her with her husband and nothing has happened between the two of them yet.

Mon does a double take. He cannot be serious. He decided to make that committee hearing difficult. She had been prepared to ask him a few easy questions, ones that would result in him promising to file the bloody report that was due months ago but he'd decided to be defensive from the off, leaving her no choice.

“Are we even now?”

“What are you talking about? You put in an application for funding. I cannot agree to more funding if I don't know what you're doing.” Mon responds, confused by where the conversation is going. 

“So because I haven't jumped to your tune and filed a report like you requested, you humiliate me?” Anger laces his words. This is a side to him that Mon hasn't seen before. She suspects it’s the one that earned him his reputation.

“This wasn’t personal.”

“Really? If you're going to lie Senator, you need to get better at it.” He takes a step towards her. Mon moves to step away from him but changes her mind, she will not be intimidated by him.

“I'm not lying. This wasn't personal, not everything is about you. Anyone of your colleagues who applied for funding for a mysterious project would've faced the same scrutiny.” At that, Krennic laughs.

He takes another step towards her. “We both know this was personal.” Mon swallows. Is this the Krennic that his adversaries see? Is this the Krennic that enemies of the Empire see? It's terrifying. Mon's heart is pounding. 

“No, it wasn't.”

“Your little performance in there was revenge for whatever I did the night we had dinner.” Mon frowns, does he honestly not recognise anything wrong in his behaviour? Is he really that socially inept that he thinks their comments were appropriate?

“No, it wasn't.” Mon repeats, firmer this time.

“Can I make a suggestion? Why don't we keep the personal and professional separate?” His tone is patronising. How dare he speak to her like that!

“This was not personal.” Mon grits her teeth.

“Oh really? The comment about trust being earned.” Krennic scoffs. A sick sense of satisfaction fills Mon at the knowledge that her words had the intended effect. 

“You asked the Committee to trust you but have failed to file the necessary report on six occasions.” Mon reasons, she can feel the anger building in her. She's surprised by it. “Did I not give you the opportunity to earn it?” 

“Oh come off it, you were never going to be fair. I don't know what I did but perhaps we can have an adult conversation about it instead of resorting to childish point scoring.”

“It had nothing to do with the other night.” Mon emphasises the words, her tone more harsh than she intended but her anger no less palpable. 

“Well clearly it did. You know if you refuse the funding, I could go to the Emperor and have him override it.” Mon doesn't think he intends it but it comes across as a threat. A small niggling fear takes route in Mon as, for the first time, she fully recognises the danger she's placed herself in by starting this. If he can take her to dinner and then threaten her, what else is he capable of? And then a truly terrifying thought crosses her mind, for her own safety, she has to put an end to her plan, she cannot string him along and then leave him hanging. She cannot get involved with him, not even just to use him, because once she does, there will be no turning back, Krennic won't allow her to.

Mon laughs partly at the ridiculousness of his comment, partly at the realisation that she could be about to fall into a trap of her own making. “And if I refuse your advances will you go to the Emperor then too?” It’s mocking. Krennic sees red.

“So that’s what today was about.” Krennic’s tone is glacial. “You know you could’ve just told me. There was no need for this little charade.”

“Today was about the Senate getting answers.” Her voice is raised slightly.

“Right… the Senate and it had nothing to do with us?” Again, his tone is patronising.

“Us? There isn’t an us.”

“No, there isn’t because you’re too worried about how your inadequate husband might react.” Mon laughs at that. Of course it would come back to Perrin.

“But Mon, you won't be able to stay away.” There's a huskiness to his voice. Mon tries to ignore it. He's so close to her now. She lets out a deep breath, knows that deep down he's probably right. Her dinner with Perrin and the dissatisfaction she'd felt during it proves it. Something about their banter, the push and pull they share is magnetic. She's not entirely sure when it became more than just a charade but she’s teetering perilously close to it becoming a lot more and she doesn't know how to stop it. Should she stop it or should she allow whatever this is to become something and use it to keep her safe whilst also placing her in a different kind of danger?

Tension sizzles between them. Krennic’s eyes flick from her eyes to her lips and then back to her eyes. She can see the desire written across his face. There's a charged electricity heavy in the air, suffocating them. It's overwhelming. Mon needs to get out of there.  She turns and takes a step away from him. His hand catches her wrist, spinning her back around to face him. And then his lips are on hers.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Tension sizzles between them. Krennic’s eyes flick from her eyes to her lips and then back to her eyes. She can see the desire written across his face. There's a charged electricity heavy in the air, suffocating them. It's overwhelming. Mon needs to get out of there. She turns and takes a step away from him. His hand catches her wrist, spinning her back around to face him. And then his lips are on hers. Shock washes over Mon as she stands there frozen. Her brain cannot process what is happening quick enough for her to react. It's as though she's completely shut down. The kiss is not how she would've imagined it, not that she has imagined him kissing her. It's angry at first fuelled by their disagreement and then it's timid as though Krennic’s realised what he's doing and he's not sure how she'll react. It's not until he pulls her bottom lip between his teeth that Mon's brain finally kicks into gear. She places her hands on his chest and pushes firmly. Krennic takes a step back from her, reading her expression, he's so distracted by the fire in her eyes that he fails to notice what her hand is doing. The sound of her palm making contact with his check reverberates around them. Staggered by her own actions, Mon takes a step back. What has she done? Krennic blinks, his cheek stinging. Well that was unexpected . He smirks. Mon is radiant when she's angry and she's seething with him now. But there's something else buried beneath her anger: desire. He saw it the night of the Emperor's birthday party when they flirted and he'd propositioned her. He saw it again dropping her back at her apartment, the night he asked her to join him for dinner. That night she'd hidden it well beneath the anger she felt towards him for whatever he'd done but he saw the flicker of it all the same. It's why he turned up at her office the following day, only for her to turn him away. And it's there now.

“Don't pretend you haven't wanted that for weeks.” His tone is smug. Electricity crackles between the two of them as Mon processes his words. Krennic waits for her to respond, waits for her to knock him back. But she doesn't, just stands there motionless. He studies her expression, he can't read it but can sense her fear. It takes him a moment to register why it's fear that is coursing through her veins. The slap. She's just assaulted a senior ISB officer, a director . It's an indictable offence. He could have her sent to prison for a lengthy period, if he wanted to. He doesn't but he's just learned something far more valuable: for all her speaking out against Palpatine and championing dissident causes, she fears going to prison. And that information could be used against her, if he needed to. He won't, not yet. He suspects in her current state, she's quite malleable and he can get what he wants without using her fear. But, more than that, he doesn't want her scared of him. It's an odd feeling for someone who relies on the fear of others, but she's different. 

Krennic reaches up to gently hold her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Mon doesn't resist him. Oh, she would be so malleable like this. But he doesn't want that. He wants her to want it. He gently tilts her head towards him and presses his lips to hers. Again, she doesn't react but nor does she push him off. His hand leaves her chin and softly trails down her neck. Mon gasps at the sudden pressure and Krennic takes advantage of the situation, pushing his tongue into her mouth. Mon gasps a second time. What is she doing? This cannot happen and yet it is and she's not stopping it. She's not sure she wants to. This time Krennic doesn't hold back. His tongue seeks hers out and quickly the two are locked in a battle for dominance as he allows his anger at her to fuel the kiss. He's angry at her for their argument, he's angry at her for humiliating him, he's angry at her for dismissing him yesterday morning but most of all, he's angry at her for denying him this. For a moment, Mon lets him take control as her brain tries to catch up with what is going on and then she fights back, pouring her anger into it. She's angry at him for tricking her into dinner with Sly Moore, Ars Dangor and the rest. She's angry at him for his comments at dinner about sharing her. She's angry that he didn't call Moore out on his comment. She's angry that he decided to make the Senate hearing personal and then blamed her, but most of all, she's angry at him for making her want this because she does want it and that is terrifying. She shouldn't want it, cannot want it, he's Krennic. This was supposed to be her using him, stringing him along to try and reduce the ISB's interest in her and here she is kissing him and enjoying it.

Krennic positions his free hand on her waist, pulling her closer to him, her body pressed against his. And it feels right, as though she's meant to be there. The feel of his hand moving down her body shuts down any thought Mon had of putting a stop to it. His grip is possessive but not in a controlling way and Mon finds herself wanting more. Her fingers cement themselves in his hair, pulling his head back. Krennic frowns. Why has she stopped it? But then the desire in her expression tells him that she wants more. She raises an eyebrow at him. Always a challenge with her . Rising to it, he kisses her jaw line and then her ear lobe. A moan falls from Mon lips and she arches her back. Krennic places another kiss on her jaw line and then her neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps on the sensitive skin as his lips travel to their intended destination. The sweet spot between her neck and shoulder. Krennic groans. The collar of her dress is in his way. He doesn't want to ruin the offending item but he needs it out of his way. His hand reaches up and pulls it away from her neck, exposing her skin. He sucks her skin hard, intending to leave a mark. Mon gasps. Her body is alive with the sensation.

But then something catches her attention. A noise. It's blurry as though she's hearing it from underwater. And then it's louder. Mon forces herself to concentrate on it. Footsteps. Krennic's heard it too but he doesn't care enough to do anything about it. He's finally got Mon where he wants her after weeks and weeks of chasing and she's there willingly. So what if someone stumbles across them, affairs aren't uncommon amongst the ranks of the Empire. But Mon cares. She cares enough to tighten her grip on his head and pull his face away from her. Krennic searches her face, thinking it's another of her attempts to take control of the situation but it’s not. There's no desire in her gaze anymore. Just panic.

“Mon…” He breathes, but the moment's gone. He can see it in her face, the way her guarded mask has fallen back into place. Anger simmers in his blood, not at her this time but at whoever's interrupted them. “Mon…” He tries again. “It's okay. He won't know.” Krennic tries to reassure her but the promise falls on deaf ears.

“In the same way he wouldn't find out about our dinner?” Krennic frowns. Is that why she's been so off with him since?

“I didn't know he had.”

“Sly Moore told him, almost immediately after.” There’s an edge to her voice. “It seems you don't have the influence you think you do.” She knows she probably shouldn't have said it as soon as the words leave her mouth.

Krennic ignores the slight. “Tell me what would be a suitable punishment and I'll see to it.” Mon feels as though she's been slapped. 

“Punishment?” The shock is evident in her voice. “For what? For telling my husband that I was out for dinner with another man?” The suggestion of it is absurd.

“For placing you in danger.” There's a harshness to his tone.

“From Perrin?” Mon asks, somewhat confused by the direction the conversation has taken. “I'm not in any danger from Perrin, at least not for that.”

“Even so.” Fear grips Mon, surely he wouldn't do anything to Sly Moore.

“I don't want him punished.” She's not entirely sure why she's defending Moore. Perhaps it's because any punishment would be in her name. Perhaps it's because she doesn't want to be the same as them.

“I'm afraid, my dear, you don't have a choice in the matter. He disobeyed an order.” He slips the term of endearment so easily into the sentence it's as though he's always called her it. Mon ignores it.

“Out of loyalty to his friend. He did the right thing.” Mon counteracts.

“His loyalty to the Empire outweighs his loyalty to his friend.” 

“But this wasn't about the Empire.” She reasons.

“It doesn't matter. I gave him an order, he disobeyed it.”

“Please don't.”

Krennic leans in close to her ear. “For you, my dear, I'll be merciful in how I do it.” The almost transactional nature of his words gives Mon an idea.

“What would it take for you not to punish him?” Krennic smirks at her question. This has certainly taken an interesting turn of events.

“A night… the entire night.” Mon scoffs at that. Krennic realises his misstep as soon as he says it. There's no way she'll agree to it but at least she knows what he wants.

“That seems an awfully steep price. And what do I tell my husband?”

“That, my dear, is entirely your own affair.” Krennic shrugs.

“One night?”

“Yes.”

“The only night.” Her voice is hard.

“Mon, we both know we'd never be able to stick to that.”

“Very well.” She concludes. “Enjoy punishing him.” And with that she untangles herself from his grip and walks away from him. Krennic lets her go. He wants to call her back but he doesn't.

Mon's office is empty as she crosses the threshold. She doesn't exactly remember the walk back, her mind reeling from what's just happened. She kissed him. Well, more accurately, he kissed her but she didn't stop him, at least not the second time. They kissed. What's worse is she doesn't know how far it would've gone if they hadn't been interrupted. She's fairly certain whoever it was hadn't seen anything, the footsteps were too far away and she didn't see anyone as she walked away from Krennic. Would she have come to her senses if she hadn't heard whoever it was? In truth, she doesn't know and that's the part that's terrifying. She doesn't know. She wants to think she would've but she can't be certain. She kissed him. Oh kriff, Perrin. She cheated on Perrin. Guilt crashes over her. She's a cheater. How many times has she sworn she was faithful to Perrin? How many times has she told him she'd never betray their vows. And she's done it. Not only has she done it but she's done it with a man she hates. A man who she wouldn't normally look at twice. What was she thinking? What is wrong with her? How could she? She was only kissing him back, she reasons but that sounds pathetic even to her. She kissed him. It's a simple as that. Expect nothing about that is simple. And then to make matters even worse, she offered herself to him for a night. What is wrong with her? If he'd agreed to that she would've had to go through with it. And the worst part of it all is that she suspects she might actually wish she had. And that is something she's not prepared to deal with. But she's going to have to. Krennic will not let this go. He wants her, has made that clear on numerous occasions and she's just suggested that she wants him. How could she have been so stupid? And what now? Krennic isn't going to just leave her alone now that he's kissed her twice, and one with the promise of more. Oh, she's an idiot. No wonder Luthen decided it's a bad idea getting involved with Krennic. Even Mon knew it was a bad idea and yet she'd done it anyway. And she'd enjoyed it. Worse, Krennic knows that. He'd used a term of endearment twice. The reminder of that turns her stomach. The monster had called her “my dear” twice. Mon feels nausea rising up in her. She just manages to keep it at bay by pushing the thought of Krennic's name for her out of her head. Instead, her thoughts turn to what he's going to do to Sly Moore. He'd asked her to name the punishment, as though it was some great romantic gesture and then when she told him she didn't want it, he promised to be merciful for her. The whole thing leaves her feeling uncomfortable. What if she had named something? Would he have carried it out? There's something slightly alluring about knowing she could make a request of him and he'd do it. That could be incredibly useful depending on what she does with it. And then he promised to show mercy for her. The monster was prepared to show mercy for her.  Is he capable of redemption? Is there a part of him that's human? No, she thinks, he was just playing games with her. But what if he's not? What if he would actually do it for her? How far would he be prepared to go for her? How far would she have to go to guarantee it? Could she do it? Judging by how disgusted she feels, she doesn't think she can. Or perhaps she wouldn’t have to go that far, if he is already demonstrating a protective side and they’ve only kissed. It all stemmed from the fact that he thought Sly Moore had put her in danger and to him that was unacceptable. Would he protect her from the ISB? There's the possibility that he could have certain investigations closed such as her finances or the constant surveillance. She doesn't imagine he'd want anything involving him being watched by ISB agents and if the constant monitoring of her was shut down, it would open a lot of doors for her. But for that to happen, she'd have to have sex with him, and more than once she suspects. If kissing him was enough to disgust her, how would she ever be able to go through with it? And then there's a small and insignificant part of her that wants it. But wanting it is very different from being able to live with herself during and after. How would she ever look Perrin in the eye again? How would she ever be intimate with him again? She cannot have a sexual relationship with Krennic. It just cannot happen. And after their little performance in the Senate Plaza, the only way to ensure it doesn't happen is to stay away from him. When Mon leaves her office that evening, having done very little work, she is resigned to that fact, determined to keep to it and determined to never be alone with him again.

Her resolve is tested the following evening at an event hosted by Bail, that Krennic shouldn't be at. For the first time in a long time, Perrin is willing to attend an event at the Alderaanian Embassy; he usually stands her up in favour of going out with his friends because Bail rarely invites many people that Perrin likes. Mon doesn't mind, it gives her the opportunity to talk politics without feeling guilty for neglecting him. His decision to accompany her tonight is unexpected but not totally unwelcome. She's not trying to gain any votes or win any arguments, tonight she's simply there to enjoy the party and having Perrin by her side for that is a welcome change or it is until she walks through the doors of the Alderaanian Embassy. Krennic's in the far corner talking to some Imperials she doesn't recognise, glass of something sparkling in his hand. Is champagne his go to choice of drink or is he playing with her? He hasn't noticed her yet and Mon lets out a sigh of relief as she turns her attention back to their host. Bail's explaining the cultural importance of the night to Perrin and Mon tries to follow what he's saying but as soon as she turns away from Krennic, she feels his eyes on her. Her skin is tingling and she can feel the flush rising at her neck and into her cheeks. Later, she'll play it down as being due to the heat in the room but in that moment, she knows it is him causing it. Mon can feel his eyes boring into her, willing her to look at him but she won't. She can't. She feels the moment his gaze leaves her, her skin cooling instantly. Mon lets out a sigh of relief, she's passed the first test. But then something touches her hip and skirts across her back. She catches the glimpse of a gloved hand in her peripheral. It's not Perrin’s. Mon turns her head slightly. Krennic is passing behind her, a smug grin plastered across his face. Mon inhales, wills her face to say neutral. He raises an eyebrow at her, his expression suggesting he thinks Perrin’s the reason she's being cold with him. He tilts his head, angles it towards a room off the main reception hall as though he's suggesting she follow him into it. Mon wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. What is he expecting, that they'll have a quick fumble in a side room with her husband in the next room? She stares blankly at him. A smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. He's daring her to do it. And then he heads in the direction of the room he suggested. Mon turns back to Bail and Perrin. They're debating the benefits of tradition. Mon groans to herself. She likes both but sometimes putting them together is a bad idea. She's about to intervene and try to bring an end to the debate when another joins their small group. Leia, Bail's daughter. Mon smiles at the girl, she's only a few years older than Leida but the two couldn't be more different. Bail is training her up to be a senator, partly to shield her from any suspicion of being linked to the rebels and partly because he and Mon both know a time will come when he needs to take a more active role in supporting the rebels and he cannot do that and still serve in the Senate. Mon's smile widens as Leia starts talking about something, she's so passionate about everything. It reminds Mon of herself at that age. Another key difference between Leia and Leida: Mon cannot see herself in her own daughter and yet sometimes, looking at her friend's daughter is like looking in a mirror. It leaves her with a hollow feeling, one that she tries to ignore, particularly because there's a hand gracing across her back again. Mon wills her body to stay still and when he doesn't get a reaction, he cuts through the crowd towards a naval officer who just happens to be in Mon's eyeline.

“Quite a large Imperial presence tonight, Bail.” Mon remarks, finally joining the conversation.

“Not by choice,” Bail huffs. “They invited themselves.” That seems to be standard practice these days, but Mon doesn't comment on it. She's had a few attend some of her events but nothing like the attendance tonight. “They do have links to Alderaan, except Director Krennic, of course.” At the mention of his name, her eyes slant over to him, she can't help it. He turns to look at her almost immediately. Mon looks away. 

“He's probably after the senators.” Mon remarks. Bail frowns. “He wants more funding for his energy project.”

“And you're refusing it?”

“Not sure yet. I'm not convinced it's needed.” Mon states, it's not a lie. She isn't sure it is needed and she refuses to grant him more money simply because it's him. But she's also not taking her time to deliberate it just because it's him. She might let the others decide for her and only get involved if a casting vote is needed. But they're all in attendance tonight and she wouldn't put it past Krennic to turn up just to whip up votes in his favour or try and influence the Committee's decision. Either that or he's there because he knew she would be too. Judging by his behaviour, it could very well be that.

The diplomat Liana Merian arrives and Bail excuses himself and Leia to go and greet the late arrival, leaving Mon and Perrin on their own. Perrin offers to get them both a drink. For a moment, Mon considers going with him but it would look odd and Perrin would think something was up if she's desperate to be by his side all evening. Instead, she lets him go. At once Krennic is leaving his own conversation and heading towards her, but he's too slow. Just as he gets to her, Senator Gane steps in front of him, commandeering her attention. Krennic however isn't prepared to accept defeat and decides to join the conversation anyway. He places his hand on the small of her back as Senator Gane exchanges pleasantries with him. Mon tries and fails to move out of his grasp without attracting attention.

“Is your wife here tonight? I must catch up with her, I haven't seen her since the wedding.” Mon asks, trying to alienate Krennic from the conversation.

“She's around somewhere. She'll be disappointed that Perrin’s not, there was something she was desperate to ask him.”

“Perrin? He's gone to get us drinks.” Mon explains. Krennic's hand tenses against her back and then he withdraws it. Interesting, Mon thinks. Krennic's prepared to kiss her in the hallways of the Senate, prepared to invite her into another room, prepared to run his hand across her back as he brushes past her but he's not prepared to do it if Perrin could see. Is that because he respects her marriage vows? She doubts it, he kissed her after all. Is it because he doesn't want to rile Perrin into causing a scene? Possibly, he cares about his image after all. Is it because he's worried about the consequences it would have for her? Also highly plausible. But that suggests he wants to protect her and she doesn't quite think that's the reason. Is there more to it? Or maybe her being with Perrin and ignoring his request for attention is making him jealous and he felt the need to stake a claim on her but with the knowledge that Perrin would be returning to her side, he's realised his mistake.

“I don't like sharing.” Krennic exclaims as though guessing her thoughts, his voice low in her ear, so quiet that no-one else hears it. She ignores it, not entirely sure how to react to it but also not wanting to. How dare he say that he doesn't like sharing! She's not a thing that he can share. She's a person and she's married. Moreover, she isn't his. They've kissed twice, that's it. Krennic doesn't suddenly have a claim to her. If anything further happened between them, it would be Perrin sharing her. If she is anyone’s, she's Perrin’s but she doesn't belong to either of them. Mon bites her tongue to avoid saying as much. She will not get into a discussion with him over this, that would give him precisely what he wants and would break the promise she made to herself.

Perrin chooses that moment to return to her, two glasses of wine in hand. He hands one to her, their fingers brush, he calls her darling and then settles his arm around her waist. Krennic glares at her before taking a step to the side. Mon's not sure which part riled him up but she's grateful that it means he's leaving her alone. An ISB officer passes them and Krennic calls out to him, the man stops and Krennic asks him a question before joining him. Mon doesn't watch as he leaves. Instead, she lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She's survived the second test. 

The third test of the night comes much later. She's spent most of the evening with Perrin, letting him navigate them around the room, letting him choose who they speak to and who they arrive, only really parting when one or both of them had an empty glass. It's quite a deviation from the norm but she doesn't mind. In an odd way it provides an insight into what it would've been like for her if Perrin had been the one who was elected to the Senate. Whilst she hasn't minded it for one night, she suspects that she would've hated it if that had been her life. She's too opinionated, too political, prefers the nitty gritty of backroom dealing too much to play the role of political spouse or consort. Perrin does it wonderfully and even more so tonight, without a word being said, he's barely left her side, recognised that tonight she wants him to remain with her and complied with it. Unfortunately, he can't accompany her to the bathroom and it's as she's leaving that Krennic corners her. Mon doesn't think it's intentional, he just happens to be walking down the stairs as she walks out of the door. Mon curses to herself but keeps her expression neutral and pretends she hasn't seen him. 

“Senator Mothma…” He exclaims. Mon rolls her eyes, she wants to ignore him but they're in public so instead, she turns back to him.

“Director Krennic.” She offers him her fake smile, lets him know it's her fake smile. If he's deterred by it, he doesn't show it. “I'm surprised to see you here… I didn't know you're a friend of Alderaan.” At that, he laughs.

“I just couldn't stay away.” Is his reply and they both know he's not talking about the party. How did he know she'd be there? He couldn't have accessed the guest list, could he? And then there's the possibility that he accessed her calendar. That wouldn't surprise her, and isn't completely outwith the realms of possibility. It might also come in quite handy.

“I'm sure Senator Organa will be pleased to know that.” Mon retorts. Krennic's expression falls.

“For a woman who had my mouth on her yesterday, you're being incredibly evasive this evening.” At that Mon turns away from him, determined not to get into a conversation with him.

“If you're worried about your husband.” Krennic continues. “He won't be an issue. I can guarantee that.” That stops Mon dead in her tracks as the unspoken threat lingers between them.

“What did you do to Sly Moore?” She asks, refusing to turn to look at him. Krennic's mood sours at once. 

“It wasn't pretty but without you to stay my hand, what was I to do?” The insinuation is clear. Mon's blood runs cold. There's probably no truth in his words but he's said them all the same. He really is a monster. Mon doesn't respond, just walks away from him back into the main room. Krennic lets her go, confusion setting into his expression. He's not sure what's causing Mon's aloofness. Is it because she's feeling guilty over what happened? Is it because they're in public? Is it because she's upset over his comment about Sly Moore? Or is it because she's regretting what happened? Regretting it is pointless, it'll happen again and he's fairly confident that next time, they'll end up in his bed. They could have last night if she hadn't let her moral compass get in the way of it. Clearly Mon needs time to accept the inevitable. He'll allow her that time, with a bit of coaxing, he thinks.

Mon's eyes scan the crowd for Perrin as soon as she steps back into the main reception room. She can't see him where she left him; she's only been gone a few minutes but perhaps someone demanded his attention and he's moved. As she's looking for him, something brushes against her arm. It’s electric. Mon looks down. It's Krennic. She glares at him and he smirks. But then she's found Perrin and is walking away from Krennic again. As she joins her husband, he rests his hand on her hip and an odd sense of security washes over her.  She feels safe with Perrin, god knows what she feels with Krennic. 

He leaves her alone for the rest of the evening. It's only when her and Perrin are readying to leave that she crosses paths with him again. She's waiting to collect her jacket, Perrin's saying goodbye to one of his old academy buddies. At first, Krennic ignores her and she thinks she might be able to slip out of Bail's party without another conversation. But just as she takes her jacket from the member of Alderaanian Embassy staff, Krennic slides up behind her and takes the jacket before the staff member lets go of it. Mon has two options, she can either relax her grip and let him have it or she can fight with him over it. It's a split second decision and she relents. Victory flashes across his expression. Mon resists the urge to roll her eyes. Why is everything a battle with him? That thought reminds her of the conversation they'd had in which she'd asked him a similar question.

With a smirk on his face, Krennic holds out her jacket and waits for Mon to turn around. For a moment, she debates whether or not to do it. She could snatch the jacket from his hands and go and find Perrin. But there's something about the challenge in his raised eyebrow that stops her. He’s too good at baiting her, knows that her own pride will provoke her into meeting his challenge and giving him what he wants. Reluctantly, she turns around and places her arms in the sleeves. Krennic manoeuvres it over her shoulders, taking a step closer to her to straighten out the material at her back before noticing the collar of the jacket is turned up. Krennic reaches up to untuck it. His fingers brush against her neck. Mon flinches. He’s not wearing gloves and his skin is cold against hers. When did he remove his gloves?

“Sorry.” Krennic breathes. “It’s tucked up.” His voice is soft, so at odds with the Orson Krennic she knows. Mon doesn’t speak. Her attention focused on the impact he’s having on her body. Why is he able to warrant such a response from her? 

His fingers touch her neck again as he continues to unfurl the material.  And then they’re skirting along her collarbone. Mon’s head falls back involuntarily. Krennic leans in and places a kiss below her ear. It ignites every sinew in her body, Mon’s eyes flutter shut as she loses herself to the sensation of it.

“I told you once wouldn’t be enough.” Krennic’s smug comment close to her ear jolts her back to the present. Mon steps out of his reach. She turns to him.

“You should’ve accepted my offer.” There’s an ice to her words. “It was the only opportunity you’ll get to have me in your bed.” Krennic laughs.

“Senator Mothma.” Krennic exclaims. “I had no idea that you were so kinky. Whilst I’m not going to turn down your office or a repeat of the other evening, I had expected you to have a preference of there being a bed involved.” The urge to punch the smug look from his face rises in Mon and it takes all of the willpower she possesses not to.

“Not. Going. To. Happen.” Mon seethes. Krennic’s smirk widens.

“Keep telling yourself that if it’ll help you sleep better.” Krennic’s voice is almost teasing. “Of course, the best sleep you’ll have...” He leans in towards her, his voice low. “Will be in my bed, fully sated after I’ve brought you to your peak over and over.” 

Mon forces a laugh. “I have my husband for that.” A jealous anger flashes across his expression. Mon resists the smirk that's threatening to form across her face. She shouldn't use Perrin like that but it seems to shut down Krennic instantly every time, putting a wall between them and that's precisely what she needs to do. The pull to Krennic after their kiss is too great and she's not sure she'd be the one in control if she were to stick to her plan and pursue something with him. 

“I think we both know he doesn't leave you satisfied.” 

“He satisfies me more than you could possibly imagine.” Mon retorts. Krennic takes a step closer to her, closing the gap between them so that there’s just a slither of air. His hand reaches for her as though he’s about to pull her toward him and prove her wrong. But then the sound of voices reaches them both. It’s Perrin. Krennic drops his hand and Mon steps away from him. She straightens her jacket and then folds her hands in front of her, as though she’s been waiting patiently for Perrin.

“Sorry darling, he wouldn’t stop talking.” Perrin exclaims as his eyes land on her. He walks to her, ignoring Krennic. 

“That’s alright.” Mon smiles at her husband, linking her arm through his, neither speaking to Krennic. As the two leave the Alderaanian Embassy, Mon casts a glance back to Krennic, a smirk on her face and an eyebrow raised. Krennic groans in frustration. His senator is going to require much more convincing than he’d thought or the obstacle of her husband needs to be removed.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

“Mon…” His voice is almost desperate as she walks away from him; they’re once again in the Senate, the scene of many of their interactions. It causes her to stop in her tracks. Mon turns back to him. He’s almost caught up to her. There’s an uncertainty in his movements, a hesitancy, as though he’s not quite sure what to do. She suspects her own actions are to blame for it, she hasn’t exactly been forthcoming and any suggestion that she might be attracted to him she’s shot down quickly. 

“Orson…” It’s almost a whisper. The air around them is thick with tension. Mon’s eyes plead with him to let her go, to not pursue her because she knows this is the knife edge and she’s so close to falling off it. This is the definitive moment for them, what happens in the next few minutes will decide what happens between them. She’s begging him to let her go, to let her return to her husband, knows that if he doesn’t give her that reprieve, there’ll be no turning back. But Krennic knows she wants him, has seen it on numerous occasions now and he wants her too. How can he let her go? One of them has to make a decision. Krennic decides it will be him, stepping in front of her. He places a hand softly on her waist, pulling her to him. Mon feels the inevitable magnetic pull between them, feels herself surrender to his touch, the moment she accepts defeat and gives in. Her eyes are on Krennic as she does and she watches his expression change as he realises that she’s laying her arms down and giving up the fight. But there isn’t a single trace of smugness written across his face, no smirk and it surprises Mon. He’s been pursuing her for so long, trying to convince her to give in to this strange thing between them and each time, she’s fought back but this time, he’s emerged victorious. There will be no counterattack, she’s waving the white flag but he’s not smug. He gently grips her chin between his thumb and forefinger, reading her expression as though he’s making sure that she wants this. She appreciates the gesture but they both know she’s wanted it for a long time. And then his lips are on hers, kissing her with such a ferocity, it’s as though he’s been starved for a decade and she’s the first source of nourishment offered. Mon notes the irony in it, he has been in some ways, she’s denied him time and time again and now finally, she’s given in.

His lips leave her mouth, trailing kisses along her jawline, down her neck, along her exposed collarbone to the top of her sternum where they come into contact with the soft material of her dress. Krennic tries to push the silk down her body to give him access but the neckline is attached to the two straps resting on her shoulders and keeping the dress up. He groans as he realises why it’s not moving. Mon laughs and raises an eyebrow at him. Krennic reaches up with his free hand and pulls on one of the straps, the force is too rough and it snaps, falling off Mon’s shoulder. Krennic pushes the neckline of her dress down her body revealing Mon’s cleavage. A smug smile graces Krennic’s lips when he notes that she’s not wearing underwear. 

“Well… that’s one way to do it.” Mon remarks, a slight scolding in her voice. For a brief moment, Krennic looks apologetic. But then the sight of her now bare shoulder is too tantalising and his lips are on it at once. His hand leaves her hip, travelling to rest on her arse and pulling her in closer to him. Krennic’s lips trail across her collar bone to her right breast. He places a kiss to the skin above her nipple, Mon shivers beneath his touch and then his lips turn their attention to her hardened nipple. 

Mon moans, the sound startling Perrin from his sleep. She moans again. Perrin leans over to his wife and a smirk forms on his lips as he takes in the flush of her cheeks, the quickened rise and fall of her chest and the slight parting of her lips. There's only one thing that would have her in such a state. He suspects if he were to slip his hand under the silk of her nightgown, she'd be wet. The thought alone is enough to stir him.

“Mon…” He whispers. Mon frowns, someone is saying her name. It's different to the soft moans of Krennic and then her eyes shoot open. It's Perrin saying her name. The whole thing was a dream. She looks up at her husband, he's smirking at her. Mon can feel the burning in her cheeks. She scans Perrin’s expression, he thinks her dream was about him. Guilt washes over her. It’s quickly replaced with shock and confusion as the realisation of who she was dreaming of sinks in. In quick succession, they then turn to disgust as the realisation of what she was dreaming of slowly takes hold. What is wrong with her? She can’t remember the last time she had a dream of that nature and Orson Krennic has never been a feature in them. Why is she suddenly having dreams of him ? It’s not like she wants to have sex with him, far from it. The very idea of it fills her with disgust. But there is something there. Even she cannot deny the connection between the two of them, the slight thrill she gets every time they spar with one another. She's loathed to admit it but perhaps she finally understands what he meant when he talked about finding a ‘worthy opponent’. But that's no longer the issue. The issue is that at some point something between them shifted to the extent that she's now dreaming about having sex with him. She has no control over her dreams, she reasons and what harm is there in dreaming about it as long as it doesn't happen? But then she remembers that it's Krennic and there is something very wrong about it all.

“Some dream, huh.” Is all Perrin says. His hand gently grips her chin as he presses his lips to hers. Mon doesn’t resist, lets his tongue explore her mouth and his hand slip under her nightgown and up her thigh. Her body is wound tightly with need, the scenes of her and Krennic enough to leave her wanton, needing release and Perrin is offering to give it to her. And she lets him. Lets him place fervent kisses all over her body, lets him bring her to her peak twice before he finally enters her, lets him bury his face in the crook of her neck as he finds his own release and doesn't once let slip that her brain is imagining another man doing it. Mon tries desperately to shake off the images of her and Krennic but she cannot. They haunt the sex with Perrin and when she lies awake in the darkness, her husband asleep beside her, they linger like smoke after a fire has burned down to the embers. Shame washes over Mon. And then it's followed by guilt before finally accumulating into repugnance. Orson Krennic is a vile human being, the things he's done in the name of the Empire are abhorrent, the lives lost as though they meant nothing, all for his own advancement and she's dreaming about that . She needs her head examined.

Mon barely sleeps the rest of the night, fearful of reigniting the dream and her brain refusing to shut off thoughts of what it means. Krennic isn't the first man who isn't Perrin to find themselves starring in her dreams but this is different. This isn't a flight of fancy or a momentary attraction, this is something deeper that she can't name and even if she could, she doesn't want to because what does that say about her?

“You were up early.” Perrin remarks as he joins her in the dining room for breakfast.

“I couldn't sleep.” Mon sighs, with a soft smile, hoping he doesn't press her for the reason why.

“That's not like you.” There's a teasing to his tone. Mon knows exactly what he's implying. “Didn't I wear you out?” That's dangerous territory. If she says no, it'll hurt his pride and wouldn't be strictly true and if she says yes, he'll want to know what was keeping her awake. Instead, she offers him a playful smile.

“Good.” He takes her cup of tea from her hands and has a sip. “So what's bothering you?” 

“Nothing, Senate stuff.” She shrugs. Perrin nods and hands the tea back to her.

“Well, if you need a repeat of last night to let off some steam, you know where I am.” He's teasing her again. Mon can't help but compare it to the way Krennic teases her and makes innuendos. With Krennic, it's natural, there's a chemistry there, a push and pull that thrills her. With Perrin, it's stilted. Is it because the romance has long died out? It can't be the sex, because as last night proved, that's still good. Is it because they've been married so long that the excitement has gone? Or is it something else that she doesn't want to admit? 

“I might be late tonight.” She offers by way of response, not wanting to dwell on the comparison between the two. “There's possibly going to be a second vote on a bill that's barely made it out of committee.”

“I thought the vote was this morning.” Perrin remarks. Mon's caught off guard by the comment, he was paying attention when she told him.

“This is a different one.” She explains with a smile as she grabs her jacket and data pad.

“Well, don't be too late or you'll miss out on my offer.” Perrin teases a glint in his eye. 

Mon's only just made it to her office when Bail turns up unexpectedly. There's a look of concern on his face and Mon hurries him through to her inner office, ignoring  Erskin’s protestations and insistence that she has another, more important meeting first. She offers the senator something to drink but Bail refuses, takes a seat on the plush chaise by Mon's window and waits for her to join him. She drops her belongings onto her desk and removes her jacket, abandoning it on the back of her chair and then joins Bail.

“What's going on with you and Director Krennic?” Bail asks her as she sits down. “A staff member noticed some tension between the two of you last night.” For a moment, Mon considers being evasive. But this is Bail she's talking to, her friend and they're in her Senate office, the office she suspects the ISB are listening to. Is now the time to start sowing the seeds?

“I don't know…” Mon confesses. “It's complicated.” That's an understatement , she thinks. 

“Complicated how?” There's a tone of suspicion laced in his words. It's times like these that she misses having Padme to talk to. Mon stands and walks to the small music player resting on the drinks cabinet of her office. She presses play and an old Chandrilan tune engulfs the room, drowning out their voices to anyone who might be listening.

“If I tell you, you're not allowed to pass judgement.” At that, Bail frowns but nods in agreement. “We kissed.” She deliberately downplays it. Bail doesn't say a word. “You're not saying anything.”

“Kriff, I don't know what to say… I know I joked that he was interested… but I never expected you to be interested in him.”

“I'm not. I was planning to use him for information.” She confesses. 

“How's that working out for you?” Mon resists the urge to laugh. To say that it isn't going well would be the understatement of the century. She was supposed to be using him and instead he's managed to worm his way under her skin, making her feel things that she shouldn't and affecting her in ways that fill her with shame and disgust.

“That well, huh.” Bail says when she doesn't answer. “Still, it could prove useful.”

Mon frowns. “How do you mean?”

“I think we've reached that day we talked about 16 years ago.” A chill creeps over Mon. She remembers that day clearly, remembers the stifling tension as she met with Bail and Saw Gerrara and they discussed how to stop the Empire and end Palpatine's dictatorship. She remembers the frustration they all felt with one another as they struggled to agree on the best course of action. She remembers the futility she felt when their meeting ended with no conclusion or formal alliance but a mutual understanding that whilst they couldn't do anything yet, the day would come when they could act. She remembers how it had pushed her into the clutches of Luthen and all the things she's done since as part of his cause, how she'd introduced Vel to him and shares some of the blame for what her cousin has done as one of Luthen’s rebels. And then she remembers the first time after that when Bail had reached out to her, Saw had attacked an Imperial cruiser and the reprisals had been brutal. In the quiet confines of Cantham House, long before surveillance on the pair of them had stepped up, they talked again about what they discussed in the ruins of the Republic and how one day, when the time was right, they'd bring the Empire to its knees.

“Are we ready?” Mon’s voice is quiet. She hadn't expected Bail would be in agreement with her that more needs to be done.

“To lead a true rebellion? No, but we could be.” Bail doesn't say anymore. He doesn't need to, they both know exactly what he means, what would be required if they agree to do it.

“And Luthen?” Mon asks.

“Do you really want him involved?” Mon flinches at his tone. She pauses for a moment before answering him. Luthen, much like Saw, is somewhat of a loose canon. He won't take orders, won't be part of a united force, won't accept someone else's authority. But more than that, people are expendable to him. Does she want someone like that making decisions and having a seat at the table? But it's Luthen. Her and Luthen have been allies in this for so long, perhaps longer than her and Bail and definitely longer than some of their allies from the Senate.

“I'm not sure he'd want to be, you know what he's like.” It's the only answer she can give, excluding him seems like a betrayal.

“So we are agreed?” Bail asks. Mon nods.

“The Senate no longer wields the power to stop Palpatine.” It's Bail's turn to nod, they've both been coming to that conclusion for a while. 

And then no more is said on the matter. They've just agreed to commit treason, although in truth, they agreed to it sixteen years ago, they've merely been biding their time until they were in a position to carry it out and now they are. There's a thrill to the danger of it but it only lasts a moment before fear grips Mon. If her and Bail are serious, she needs to get her privacy back and the way to do that is Krennic but that in itself poses danger and she's not sure it's a good idea anymore, not when they're kissing in corridors, he's touching her in public and she's having erotic dreams about him. When he'd helped with her jacket last night and he'd kissed the sensitive spot beneath her ear, she'd been so close to giving in and then he had to open his mouth, ruining the moment and provoking Mon once again into a battle of wills. That's nothing new, every interaction they've ever had has been a battle of wills in a long sustained war between the two of them but her coming so close to waving the white flag at the sensation of his mouth on her skin, that is new and it's terrifying because whilst it doesn't necessarily mean she needs to alter her original plan, if anything it should make it more successful, what if she gets in too deep, what if she can't separate her own feelings from it? What if giving in to Krennic makes it impossible to walk away? What if, after everything she's done for the rebellion, everything she's sacrificed, she ends up bound to the monster? That's the question being asked by the small voice in her head. But she pushes it away. It won't happen. Bail's right, a proximity to Krennic will prove useful, now that they are setting things in motion and she needs to focus on that, needs to forget whatever has gone before and detach all feelings from it.

Leida returns from Chandrila that afternoon, she and Stekan have had another disagreement. When Mon sees the sadness in her daughter's eyes, her heart breaks. She wishes she'd never involved Tay or Sculdun and especially Leida. She was too young to get married when she did, Mon should've protected her, should've delayed things but how could she? She had married when she was the same age, of course, the difference between her and Leida is that Mon was more mature when she'd become a wife, she, at least, knew how to resolve an argument. Leida seems to run out on Stekan whenever they argue, and instead of having it out with him and weathering the storm, she comes home. 

Mon's working from home, the Senate stifling after another vote lost. This one had been Senator Erveen's and whilst Mon had been in support of it and had voted for it, she hadn't campaigned for votes, hadn't seen the point in doing so when the bill was doomed to fail. That didn't make the defeat any easier to bear, especially when only a few years prior, the bill would've passed. Now, each defeat seems personal, and she's struggling to separate the political stance of senators from the character of the senators. She hadn't bothered to hang around for the later vote, if it even took place.

Leida's been home about an hour when she finally plucks up enough courage to ask Mon the question that's been playing on her mind. She loiters in the doorway to Mon's study, hesitant as to whether she should interrupt her mother's work. Mon waits a few minutes before deciding to address her daughter.

“Leida…” Her tone is shorter than she intends it to be. “Either come in and ask whatever it is you wish to ask or go but stop loitering.” Leida flinches at the words and Mon, expecting her daughter to turn around and walk off, regrets the abruptness of her tone. But, to her surprise, Leida steps into the room.

“Did you…” She begins, her voice quiet. “Did you look into what I asked?” Her words are deliberately vague and Mon suspects it's so that Perrin doesn't find out. Leida plays with her fingers, walking further into the study but avoiding Mon's gaze.

“I did.” Mon answers, trying to keep her tone gentle as she places down her datapad.

“And?” Mon sees the glimmer of hope in her daughter and guilt slices through her. Just how bad are things between Leida and Stekan? Mon finds herself wanting to ask Leida if her rebellion against Mon had been worth it and at once hates herself for it.

“I don't know. I can't find an answer.”

“But that doesn't mean it's not possible.” There’s something hopeful about the way Leida says it.

“No, that's true. I think, if you truly want an answer, the Temple of Elders will have it.” 

“But that's on Chandrila.” 

“You're looking for an answer on Chandrilan law…” Mon reasons. “Leida, people don't get divorced.” Mon reminds her.

“But that doesn't mean they can't.” Leida stops in front of her desk.

“It might.”

“Will you go to the Temple of Elders?”

“On Chandrila?” Mon tries to keep the disbelief out of her voice.

“I can't go, Stekan might get suspicious.”

“And your father won't?” She raises an eyebrow.

“He probably won't even notice you've gone.” Leida offers. The statement might have been true a few years ago but not now. “You won't tell him, will you?”

“If I find the answers you're looking for and you decide to do something, I think he might find out.” Mon tries to be gentle when she makes the joke. But then she sees Leida's mask crack and sees the fear underneath it. Not fear of her or Stekan or even of Perrin but fear of her slipping in Perrin's estimations. And that is exactly why Leida's approached Mon and not Perrin about it. It hurts. She thought Leida had come to her because she needed her but she hadn't, it's because she doesn't care what Mon thinks. She's asked Mon because it doesn't matter to her if Mon thinks less of her. At the realisation, Mon feels the sinews of her heart twist. 

“I just… I just want to know if it's possible.” Her voice is quiet. Mon wants to ask Ledia why she wants out of her marriage, wants to understand how things could be so bad that she wants to know if she could get out of it after only a year but she's scared to ask.

Instead, she stands from the chair, walks around the desk and pulls Leida into a hug. “I will go to Chandrila.” 

“And you won't tell dad?” Her voice is so small, it reminds Mon of when Leida was a child and would tell Mon about prize ceremonies at school or parent tutor conferences and would look at her with such hopeful eyes, that this time Mon would attend. Mon would promise to try and when the words were said, she had every intention of keeping the promise but then something Senate related would demand her attendance and she'd miss it or turn up late. How many times had she put the galaxy before Leida? She can't change any of that but she can try to help her now.

“No, I won't tell him.” She can give Leida this. She's been lying to Perrin for 16 years, what's one more? And you're considering the biggest lie , a small voice says. Mon blocks it out, refusing to think of Krennic now. It's bad enough he's tainting her moments with Perrin but to ruin her time with Leida is even worse.

She waits until they're in bed that evening before she broaches the subject with Perrin, in the hope that the darkness of their bedroom will prevent him from being able to detect the lie in her expression. Their still relatively new truce is tentative and she doesn't want to do anything that would recreate distance between them.

“I need to go to Chandrila for a few days.” 

“Chandrila?” Perrin questions. “Why?” 

“I need to look into some old legislation.” 

“Boring.” 

“You don't have to come.” Mon reasons, knowing he won't want to but giving him the option anyway. She doesn't mind, it'll make things easier for her not having to lie to Perrin about what she's doing. “One of us should stay with Leida.” She adds, hoping that will be enough to convince him to stay on Coruscant.

“Why?” Perrin frowns. Hasn't Leida told Perrin about the argument? Mon curses herself for putting her foot in it.

“She's only just come home, we can't both go to Chandrila and leave her on her own.” Mon tries to justify.

Perrin wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer to him, placing a kiss on her bare shoulder. “Very well. I'll stay with our daughter. Don't be gone too long, we barely spend any time together as it is.” 

The Chandrila Mistress departs Coruscant early the following morning, Mon safely aboard it. Perrin didn't wake in time to see her off but Leida's there, lingering by the door. Mon wonders if it's guilt that pulls Leida out of bed that early or gratitude. In truth, she doesn't mind, she appreciates the gesture all the same. The flight to Chandrila is only a few hours and Mon passes the time catching up on work. As they enter the Chandrilan atmosphere, Mon's pilot asks if he's to fly straight for the Mothma Estate near the Silver Sea but she directs him to her apartment in Hanna City. She'll spend the night in the countryside home but her first port of call for the day is to pay the Governor of Hanna City a visit. She sends her staff to the Mothma estate ahead of her with her luggage.

The apartment is eerily quiet as she steps foot in it and heads for her bedroom. Leida has stayed in the apartment a few times when she's been on world, most of them following an argument with Stekan, and little traces of her are dotted throughout the apartment. It brings a smile to Mon's face and adds a sense of home to the otherwise sterile environment. This is the least personalised of Mon's properties, she barely stays there these days, opting for the quiet serenity of her estate near the Silver Sea over the oppressive formalities of the city. And on the rare occasions that she does stay, Perrin is with her. He prefers the trappings of Hanna City, argues there's more to do and usually wears her down in the discussion. It's odd being there on her own, slightly uncomfortable and she's glad that she's chosen not to stay the night.

Once in her bedroom, Mon quickly changes out of her Coruscant clothes and dons more traditional clothes of Chandrila. If she's going to turn up to the Governor's House unannounced, she needs to at least look the part. She can't remember the last time she was at the Governor's House, perhaps her mother was still in office but she needs access to some very old Chandrilan texts before she pays a visit to the Temple of the Elders and only the Governor can grant her access. If the texts in question have the information Mon needs, it might even save her a trek through the mountains to the Temple.

If Governor Klavin is surprised to see Mon, he doesn't show it, welcoming her into the receiving room, offering her something to drink and then telling her to take a seat.

“Senator…” Governor Klavin starts once the niceties are out of the way and Mon knows that the cut throat politician is about to appear.

“Governor.” Mon smiles at him. He’s the only one of Perrin’s friends that Mon can tolerate, the others make her want to tear her hair out and that alone is the reason she tries to be civil with the man.

“We both know you didn't come here to drink my tea, so to what do I owe this impromptu visit?” And the gloves are off. Mon could play coy but there's no point, she needs answers quickly.

“I was hoping you might grant me access to the Hanna City archives.”

“It’s been a long time since anyone had any interest in them, what do you want them for?” The Governor frowns.

“I believe the old Codex might contain the answer to a question I have.”

“Curious. And what might the question be?” Mon doesn't answer that. She knows the Governor well enough to know that he can't always be trusted and if Mon tells him, it's possible that he might tell Perrin.

“Senator, if you wish to see the Codex, you have to tell me why you cannot get the information anywhere else.” His tone is harsh. Mon curses. The Governor is the one with the power and Mon is going to have to play to his rules.

“I’m looking into the possibility of divorce.”

“Mon… I had no idea things between you and Perrin were that bad.”

“Oh, no. Perrin and I are fine.” She exclaims. “It’s a family member.” If Klavin suspects it’s Leida, he doesn’t say.

“I don’t think the Codex will be of any use to you, Marni Kolma was considering her options before her husband died. She came to me hoping there would be old legislation allowing it. As I suspect you know, there isn’t. I consulted the Codex for her and it’s silent on the matter.” That’s news to her and, as any mention of Tay usually does, leaves her feeling guilty. Mon wonders if he knew what Marni was doing before he died. She suspects not, he didn't mention it when they discussed the state of his marriage.

“In your capacity as governor, would you say there is a legal avenue to pursue?” Mon flips the situation on its head.

“No. If you are determined to exhaust all options, I’d advise you to visit the Temple and speak to the Elders but Mon, if I’m honest, I don’t think you’re going to like the answer. When has anyone divorced their spouse?” It’s exactly as Mon predicted but she promised Leida she would try and she will. But hiking up to the Temple in the mountains is a task for tomorrow. Fatigue is starting to set in and she would benefit from a quiet rest of the day. 

Mon remains with the Governor for another hour, catching up and engaging in small talk and then she makes her excuses and returns to the Mothma estate. Once there, she heads for her study, intending to check in with Erksin and ensure she hasn’t missed anything important. She’s scrolling through the email messages on her data pad when there’s a noise interrupting the silence, it’s her wrist chrono. Mon had left it on the desk earlier, the leather had been cutting into her wrist on the journey from Coruscant. She walks over to her desk and picks up the small accessory, a frown forming on her lips when the screen lights up and she sees what the notification is. It's a message from Krennic that reads You weren't in the Senate. It’s so matter of fact, almost abrupt and it catches her off guard. 

Mon’s typing out a response, her fingers tracing over the keys and then back tracking as she deliberates how to respond to him. Maybe she should ignore him. His message doesn’t exactly warrant an answer, he’s simply pointed out the fact that she didn’t attend the Senate today. That raises its own question. There wasn’t a session today and none of her committees were meeting either. The only way he could know she wasn’t there would be if he had turned up to her office and that would mean that he wanted something. Mon frowns, her fingers pausing as the possibilities of what he could want flick through her brain at breakneck speed. 

The shrill chime of her wrist chrono penetrates her thoughts. Krennic’s calling her. Her frown deepens. Why would he be calling her? If something had happened, it would have been reported on the holonews and she would’ve received a briefing from her team. There’s been nothing. Fear cuts through her as a chilling thought crosses her mind: what if her conversation with Bail had been intercepted by the ISB, they’re coming for her and Krennic is trying to warn her? The colour drains from her face and her mouth dries. She has to warn Bail but first she needs to find out what the ISB knows. Mon takes a moment to steady her breathing and control her expression and then she answers the call, casting it across to the receiver on her desk. Suddenly, Krennic appears before her, a blue hologram projecting from the receiver.

“Mon…” His sounds almost relieved to see her, his eyes drinking her in before casting a glance around her surroundings. His expression suggests he’s not calling her to warn that the ISB are about to arrest her and relief washes over her. Her and Bail will have to be more careful, until she can rely on Krennic to resolve that issue.

“Director…” Mon responds, wondering when exactly he dropped the formalities in greeting her. She suspects it was sometime during one of their previous interactions but she can’t recall when. Perhaps, given where his mouth has been, the formalities should be dispensed with. She pushes that thought out of her mind as feels the ghost of his lips beneath her ear.

“Where are you?” A frown forms on his face.

“Chandrila.”

“Why?”

“It's my home.” She knows she’s being facetious but she cannot help it.

“Why are you there now ?” He narrows his eyes at her.

“Research.” It's not a lie.

“Curious.”

“What is?” Mon asks, falling into his trap and regretting it as soon as she does.

“You returning to your home world and leaving your husband on Coruscant.” Mon resists the urge to roll her eyes. “It’s almost as though you don’t want to be in his company.” Mon forces herself to laugh.

“Don't worry, I spent plenty of time in his company last night and again this morning and it won't be long before I return to it.”

Anger flashes across his expression and she knows she’s hit a nerve. “Why continue with the pretence?” Krennic asks, frustration dripping from each word. “When you finally give in, Mon, and you will , you’ll prove yourself a liar, at least where your husband’s concerned.” Mon can feel her own anger rising and tries to temper it. Trying to deny it is futile, he was very aware of the effect he was having on her the other evening but Perrin seems to be a hair pin trigger, everytime Krennic mentions him, Mon rushes to his defence.

“Was there something you wanted?” Her tone is icy.

“It can wait until you’re back unless, of course, you want me to join you on Chandrila.” Mon finds herself considering the suggestion. There’d be only one reason he’d make the trip, one goal in mind. The thought of him being in her family home turns her stomach. This is where she married Perrin, where they spent the first year of their marriage, learning about each other, it’s where she said goodbye to both of her parents. No, Krennic doesn’t get to taint her home. Why was she even considering it?

“I thought not.” There’s a disappointment hidden beneath the words, as though he’d hoped she’d extend an invitation. 

“I’ll be back in a few days. Why not contact my office and have them set up an appointment to discuss whatever it is you want?” Mon offers a compromise; she’s going to have to appear to be bending slightly if it’s going to be believable. 

“Mon, I’m not making an appointment every time I want to invite you to dinner.” Frustration seeps into his words. “Does your husband arrange dates through your office?” Mon recognises that he’s losing patience with her. She’s going to have to compromise even further if she’s not to push him away. 

“They know my schedule better than I do.” She offers him a smile. “If we agree a day now, there’s a good chance I will have to cancel it.” His expression softens at that as he realises that it's not because she's being difficult.

“My busy senator.” He teases. There’s something possessive about the way he says it and it leaves Mon feeling odd. “Very well, I will speak to your office to arrange our date but Mon, this is the only time I’m prepared to have our relationship scheduled for us by your staff.” He emphasises the word relationship.

“That’s rather presumptive.” Mon retorts, regretting it as soon as she does, knowing that she'll have to follow through in that direction and disrupt the finely balanced truce they seem to have reached.

“What?” Krennic frowns.

“That we have a relationship.”

“Oh my dear, if this conversation was in person, I’d show you exactly the kind of relationship we have.” He uses the term of endearment again. “We both know how much you enjoyed that kiss.” Mon curses to herself. Why does he have to do this every time?

“Was it enjoyment or was it a lack of resistance?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“What possible reason would you have for not resisting if you wanted to?”

“Fear of reprisal.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, there’s a shift in the air around them. Something unreadable crosses Krennic’s expression and Mon thinks she’s gone too far again. What is it about sparring with him that makes her less guarded, less able to control what she says?

“Mon…” There’s a thinly veiled pain in the way he says her name and Mon realises that she’s hurt him. Shock washes over her. How could the great Director Krennic be hurt by words? 

“When have I ever suggested that I would ever punish you for rejecting me?” She’s definitely touched a nerve. “Were there any consequences for you slapping me?” It’s as though she’s held up a mirror to him so that he can see himself through her eyes and he doesn’t like what he sees. Mon doesn’t answer him, she doesn’t know what to say.

There’s a loud noise on Krennic’s side of the connection. Mon watches as he turns his head, trying to determine what it was. There’s muffled voices but she can’t make out what is being discussed. Krennic turns back to her.

“I have to go. We’ll finish this conversation when you’re back in Coruscant. Don’t worry, I’ll make an appointment.” His tone is bitter and then he’s gone, the call ended.

Mon stands staring at the space vacated by the hologram, confusion etched into her features. What happened? She doesn't quite understand how their conversation deteriorated so quickly. She didn’t do anything she wouldn't normally. What was it about her comment that had such an effect on him? Yes, it was pointed but it wasn't worse than anything she's said previously. Mon's accused him of war crimes before and the accusations bounced off him. He, himself, implied that when he punished Sly Moore it involved torture and yet when she suggested he could do similar to her, he'd been hurt by it. Why? What's the difference between the two? Is it because she'd suggested he could hurt her? The notion isn't that far-fetched unless he's certain he wouldn't ever hurt her. But can he be? Unless… no. Mon doesn't want to entertain that line of thinking. But she can’t help herself. There's too much confusion created by his response for her to leave it alone. Every interaction they’ve had flutters through her mind, the words she used, what she'd implied, what she'd accused him off, most of it much worse than the implication that she believed he could hurt her and yet none of them has garnered the same response. Yes, she'd angered him, frustrated him, and maybe on occasion infuriated him but her words have never upset him until now. The realisation of that stirs something uncomfortable in her as the reasons for why that could be filter through her mind, each one stemming from a previous interaction and setting her more and more on edge until finally one comment makes her blood run cold. And you'd be so much more than a conquest . He'd spoken those words to her the first time he asked her to dinner when she accused him of only being interested so that he could say he'd had her. He rebuked that and insisted it was more. She hadn't allowed herself to think about what he meant in any significant depth but now it seems the answer is glaringly obvious. To Krennic this isn't just a lust fuelled infatuation or another notch on his belt. There is something else there, she's not quite sure what but it's more than just him wanting one night with her. She thinks he has feelings for her and that fills her with abject horror, yes she can use it as Bail said but to what end? And what does Krennic with feelings look like? He's already suggested he's possessive but how far would that go? As she finds herself deeper and deeper embroiled with him, would she find her freedom more and more restricted, would she find it more and more difficult to eventually leave? Is she even considering the possibility of that? When did the plan shift from just sex to something else? Something else would involve the greatest performance of her life, is she really capable of feigning feelings for someone to that extent? 

Those are the questions that play on repeat in her head through the night, plaguing her dreams and interrupting her thoughts. And by morning, she pushes them to the back of her mind as she forces herself to focus on Leida and getting the answers she needs.

There's a breeze in the air as Mon hikes through the mountains of Chandrila. She didn't have to walk, the Temple of the Elders at the top is accessible by speeder, but she doesn't mind. In truth, she's happy to do it. It gives her the opportunity to think about a lot. Ironically, the last time she did this walk was during the festivities for Leida's wedding and the time before that was during the festivities for her and Perrin’s wedding. As a child, she'd often trek up to the top, partly to prove she could and partly because of the escape it offered. Sometimes, Tay joined her. Then she'd reached her teenage years and she no longer had time for slinking off as her parents prepared her to enter the world of politics. After everything that's happened in the years since, those memories are bittersweet, when things between her and Perrin were at their worst, she'd clung to them. She pushes the memories out of her mind, not wanting to feel the pain of Tay's death and her role in it. Instead, she focuses on the present, on what she and Bail discussed as she notes that the rural landscape would be an ideal place to hide a rebel command centre, amongst the lush trees and rocky outcrops. But Chandrila is definitely not the place to do it. It's too obvious, too close to Coruscant and she'd never willingly place her people in that much danger. But it does give her an idea as to the kind of place they should be considering if they decide to embark down that path. The conversation between her and Bail suggests that they're almost at that point and the increased activity of Luthen's network suggests that the Empire will soon be tightening its grip. And that in turn will mean increasing their monitoring of her and Bail unless she can provide Krennic with a reason to intervene. But that is something that can wait until she's back on Coruscant, for now, her focus must be on helping Leida.

It takes Mon an hour to hike to the top of the mountain, partly because she's not rushing, allowing herself to enjoy the views that she doesn't often see and partly because, she suspects, she's stalling the inevitable. But eventually, she makes it to the top. She pauses for a moment and takes in the Temple. It seems nearly a lifetime since she last visited it and she supposes in some ways, it is. She'd been a girl then, forced to comply with the old ways. 

The courtyard is alive with activity as people pass in and out of the doors of the Temple. It's the first time she's seen it this busy, usually it's a place of quiet reflection. A few people notice her presence and exchange greetings with her. One asks her about whether she thinks the Emperor's treatment of Ghorman is fair. Mon skirts around an answer for that one, not committing one way or another for fear that someone will hear it and report it back to the ISB. But the question alone is enough to make her continue into the Temple in search of an Elder. There's a small crowd of people in conversation with one of them. Mon can't see another so decides to linger until their conversation is finished, taking a seat in one of the pews. She's barely sat down before the small crowd of people are walking past her, back out into the sunshine. Mon stands and walks towards the Elder.

“Senator Mothma!” The Elder exclaims, it's the same one who used to visit the apartment on Coruscant to lead Leida's study group. Those visits stopped with her wedding and Mon was glad she no longer had to listen to the recital of doctrine in her own home. “It's not often you trek up the mountain path to visit us.” There's a criticism laced within the words but Mon ignores it. She's never trekked up the mountain path by choice to visit the Temple. If she's visited the Temple, it's because she's been in its vicinity or has been forced. 

“I'm after some advice.” She offers a smile. As much as she hates it, she can do it for Leida. Mon casts a glance around the Temple. It's exactly how she remembers it from her childhood. There's a few people sitting amongst the rows of seats and Mon wonders how the old ways of Chandrila resurfaced, how many of the girls in the Temple will be sold into a marriage they have little say in, in the same way Leida was.

“Of course, of course. We'll go through the back for some privacy.” The Elder ushers Mon into a side room and closes the door behind them. They both take a seat and Mon waits for the Elder to speak, unsure of how this works.

“Well, Senator, what can I help you with?”

“It's a difficult subject.” Mon begins, “Do I have your discretion?”

“Discretion?” She questions. “Of course, everything we discuss today is strictly between us, unless I'm concerned that a crime has or will be committed.”

“No, it's nothing like that.” Mon explains. The woman is staring at her expectantly. She's not sure why but something about being in the Temple with this woman makes her feel like a child again. 

Mon takes a breath and then starts again. “The thing is, I have exhausted all other avenues to no avail and so I've no option but to come to you.”

“Senator, I'm not following.”

“Divorce. It's never been legislated for in Chandrila so the only route would be through…” Mon doesn't finish the sentence before the Elder erupts.

“Divorce? The ending of a marriage?” The Elder seems scandalised by Mon's question. “The breaking of the circle?” 

“Yes.”

“Senator, I'm afraid… it's not possible.” 

It's the answer Mon has been expecting but that doesn't make it any less devastating. Mon thinks of Leida, of her beautiful girl, who she sold into a marriage to protect herself and now can't get her out of it. How does she tell her daughter that she's trapped in a marriage she doesn't want, a marriage that hasn't survived its first year without problems. Even her and Perrin’s first year was good in comparison to those two. Mon's reminded of Leida's question “ But look at you two now. What hope do we have if you and dad were happy at least in the beginning ” and finds herself agreeing. 

“You mentioned that divorce has not been legislated for and that's because it cannot be legislated for, divorce is not possible.” 

Mon doesn't know how to respond. She feels the blood drain from her face as the realisation of what she's done settles over her. And then she realises something else… Leida cannot end her marriage but neither can she. Mon will be married to Perrin until one of them dies. The cold shock that accompanies that surprises her. She'd never questioned it before, never wanted to end their marriage, never even considered it but now that she knows she cannot, she feels as though something has been taken from her. And that leaves her with a lot of questions that she can't answer. She tries to ignore them, tries to focus on Leida and tries to think of a solution. But instead, her mind keeps flicking back to her own situation to the terrifying realisation that Perrin will always be an obstacle in the eyes of Krennic because she will always be married to him. The only way to keep Perrin safe is to give Krennic what he wants and that is exactly what she'll do. When she returns to Coruscant, she will keep the meeting with him, finish their conversation and let him take her to dinner. 

The difficulty with that plan is that when she checks in with Erskin once she's back on Coruscant, she discovers that Krennic didn't contact her office, didn't make an appointment and didn't arrange an evening to take her out. Have her words hurt him to such an extent that he would just back off? Is she going to have to swallow her pride and apologise to get things back on track? The thought fills her with dread. She can picture Krennic, a smug gloating look on his face as she does it, the glee he will feel at her being brought low. Still, if it mends things, she'll swallow her pride and do it. She just has to be careful how she does it, she cannot surrender too much power to him or she'll never reclaim it. She reasons that if she had known the impact it would have had, she wouldn't have said what she did. But then how could Mon have known? 

There's still no word from him when she returns to the Senate the following day. Aside from her monthly lunch meeting with Senator Dasi Oran and an early bill reading, her diary is empty for the day. Mon asks Erskin if Krennic has contacted her office at all in her absence but is told that he hasn't and she's left wondering if he's playing games with her. Is he trying to goad a reaction from her because they left things unresolved? Is he trying to see how long the silence lasts before she reaches out?  If he wants to play that game, she's more than prepared to win, after all her marriage to Perrin has made her an expert over the years.

Dasi's waiting for her at their usual table when she arrives to lunch, a cup of tea waiting for her. Mon smiles to herself, is she that predictable? He stands when he sees her walking towards him, she’s late.

“Senator Mothma.” He smiles at her as he tries to hide the relief in his voice. Mon wills her face to stay neutral as she fights her own confusion. Was he worried that she wouldn't turn up? How long have they known each other? She always turns up unless something urgent means she has to cancel but on those occasions, she always tells him in advance. Perhaps, the anti-Ghorman sentiment is making him question who his friends are and her not arriving on time had him doubting their friendship.

“Sorry, I'm late. The expressway was unusually busy.” She offers by way of an apology and explanation, hoping that it will reassure him, before she places a kiss on his cheek in greeting.

“No need to apologise.” Dasi replies and some of the tension has gone from his voice. Mon smiles and the two take their seats.

“How have you been since I last saw you?” Mon asks, as she peruses the menu. It's a pointless exercise, she'll order the same thing she always does.

“I went back to Ghorman.” There’s a strain in his voice. Mon doesn't ask him how it was, she knows what the Empire's being doing to the planet. She waits for Dasi to continue. “They're making things more and more difficult for my people.” It reminds Mon of another conversation they'd had, one in which she'd tried to help him but he hadn't wanted it. She's not surprised by what he's said, she had told him it would happen and still he turned down her offer of support. Mon doesn't comment on that, she can see the worry in his face, the regret etched in the lines and the guilt he feels that he bears some of the responsibility for what's happened. Instead, she reaches for his hand and squeezes it.

“And what about work?” She asks, trying to distract him.

“I don’t know why I even bother trying to get answers.” Mon can hear the frustration in his voice.

“Krennic didn't turn up again?” She asks, frowning.

“He's off-world apparently, sent a subordinate in his place.” Mon's frown deepens at that. Has he returned to Eadu? She'd expected him to hang around longer, until he received a response to his funding application or at the very least until they’d have a chance to finish their conversation. It does explain why their ‘appointment’ never materialised.

“Did the subordinate prove useful?”

Dasi laughs at her question. “No, he was more evasive than Krennic usually is. I couldn't tell whether he didn't know anything or Krennic had coached him in how not to answer questions.”

At that, Mon smiles. “Probably both. It would've been more beneficial if no-one had turned up. At least then you could've had your morning back.” She remarks. 

When she returns to her office, there's an email waiting for her on her data pad. It's from Krennic, one single line of text and an attachment. The text reads Perhaps now I'll have earned your trust. Frowning at the words, she opens up the attachment. It's the report the Oversight Committee has been waiting on for months. Mon doesn't know whether to laugh or throw the datapad across the floor. What game is he playing this time? Is this because of what she’d said about him, what she’d implied about him during their last conversation? The email suggests it might be.

Mon scans through the document, it's nearly 500 pages long. How has he managed to produce this in such a short space of time? Has he had it all this time and just refused to send it? She reads the concluding paragraph; it's a lot of words that tell her very little. Mon rolls her eyes, she's not surprised in the slightest. She suspects the rest of it will be the same but she'll have to read every line on every page in case he's hidden something in it. Mon checks the length of it again in case she's mistaken; she's not, the report is 500 pages long. For a moment, she considers setting it aside for the day and heading home early but as she's about to turn her data pad off, something stops her. Her eyes gloss over the introduction to Krennic’s report, another pointless page that tells her nothing. She prints it out, the length of it forcing her to elect a paper copy over the digital version and then sets about reading it.  The words are meaningless but he does possess a certain flair with them, Mon notes as she's working her way through the pages. 

When she's finally finished, Mon lets out a sigh. It's been a complete waste of her evening but at least she's read the report and knows with certainty that it's not worth the paper it’s written on. She sends the electronic version to the rest of the Oversight Committee and then opens it up on her data pad. She reads it for a second, this time quicker and with less precision, highlighting important parts, parts that raise questions and parts that need further clarification, writing notes in the margin as she scrutinises the bogus report in preparation for the next Committee session. By the time she's done, each page is littered with annotations. It would usually be a sign of a productive evening and in depth preparation but tonight it fills her with an unease as she concedes that it will mean another war of words with Krennic, if she ever gets to interrogate him on the contents of his pointless report.

The Oversight Committee convenes two days later. Still, Mon hasn't heard from Krennic. She calls the meeting to order and then lets the rest of them debate it amongst themselves. 

“I'm in favour. I think we absolutely must grant Director Krennic more funding.” Senator Rhodi starts the discussion.  

“Did you read the report?” The disbelief in Senator Tural's voice is palpable.

“Yes.”

“So you'll know it provides absolutely no information.” Senator Rhodi looks away. “How can we possibly agree to more funding if we don't know what we'll be funding?”

“It's the energy project.” Senator Rhodi remarks as if it's the most obvious thing in the galaxy. 

“Which is what?” Mon registers the raised voices but she's not paying attention to what is being said. Her focus is on Krennic, it has been since his name was first mentioned, as she tries to decipher his odd behaviour. Mon doesn't know what to make of it. He'd been so hurt by what she'd said that he insisted on arranging a meeting with her when she returned to Coruscant and then hadn't contacted her office to arrange one. He wanted to take her dinner but made no attempts to schedule it or even reach out to her office. And when she returned to Coruscant, he was gone. None of it makes any sense. Has he done it intentionally to get a reaction from her? Is he playing a new game with her, trying to get her attention? Or is he trying to punish her for what she'd said to him? 

“Exactly what is detailed in the report.” Senator Danascar retorts, joining the argument.

“Senator Mothma… it appears the decision lies with you.” The sound of her name pulls Mon out of her musing. Their expectant eyes stare at her as they wait for her to impart some words of wisdom on them. If only she'd been paying attention to the debate. 

“Is it evenly split?” She asks, her focus landing on Senator Pamlo, hoping her ally might grant her a reprieve. But how can she when she doesn't know the context in which this debate is taking place? 

“Yes.” Senator Pamlo remarks and then, under her breath adds “Down the usual lines.” For a moment, Mon doesn't speak, just nods in understanding. If anyone else had made a funding request on the basis of the report they'd received, she would have argued passionately against it, would have taken the time to negotiate with some of the more malleable members of the committee and then would've torn the request to shreds. But this is Krennic. Is she stalling deliberately because it's him? Is it because she knows that despite the useless report and wishy-washy testimony, his energy project will probably come to fruition? Is it because she trusts him not to misappropriate the money, if they agree to his request? Or is it on a more personal level? Is it because she doesn't want to get in the way of his work? Is it because there is this thing between them, whatever it is? Or is it because of how they left things? None of them are reason enough alone for her to agree to increase the funding. 

Mon looks around the room at her fellow senators, studies their expressions, lists the names in her head of those in favour of Krennic’s request. Some of them have been her colleagues for years, others are newer and she has very little dealings with them. Every single one of them supports Palpatine and has voted time and time again to inflict suffering on those who do not. Mon knows that she cannot side with them. She has to reject his proposal. 

“I'm not satisfied with the report.” Mon exclaims, lifting up the printed version and gesturing to it. “I fail to see why the current funding isn't enough. Unless Director Krennic is prepared to provide more information, I cannot in good conscience vote in favour of more funding.”

“Well then,” Senator Rhodi states, slamming his hands on his thighs and then standing up. “We have a response to the request.” He’s made it to the door before he turns back to the room.

“As chair of the committee, Senator Mothma, I trust you will be the one to write up our official response?” Of course, there would be that catch. Will the decision be better received coming from her? She thinks not. After their last interaction and his sudden disappearance from Coruscant, she suspects it would better coming from anyone but her. But, he's smart enough to know that it's not personal. She sends the outcome to him by email, keeps it professional and makes it official. If she's hoping for a response, she doesn't get one, perhaps he's too busy doing whatever it is he's doing away from Coruscant. Or perhaps he doesn't respond because there's nothing to be said. After all, it's the Committee's decision not hers and the decision isn't personal.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

It takes exactly twenty hours for Mon to discover that Krennic has taken it personally and not professionally. Mon knows it takes twenty hours because she's only just arrived at her office the following morning, taken a seat at her desk and is scouring through correspondence that's come in overnight. The door to her office swings open and at first, she thinks it's Erskin. She looks up from the message she's been reading and sees the last person she'd expected.

“Director Krennic, I see you've forgotten how to knock.” Isn't he supposed to be off world? One look at his voice suggests he's not in the mood for jokes. He walks towards her, stopping on the other side of her desk.

“What is this?” He flings the data pad at her across the desk. Mon flinches as it clatters on the wood. Hesitantly, she picks it up and reads the document. She lets out a shaky breath as she notes her signature at the bottom of the page.

“The outcome of your funding application.” Mon answers, unsure if the question is rhetorical.

“You. refused. it.”

“No, the committee refused it.” She keeps her voice light, tries to steer it in a different direction, tries not to provoke him into an argument. 

“5-4. Shall we guess who the deciding vote was?” Sarcasm drips from his words. Dread pools in Mon's stomach. This is why she'd hesitated, because she didn't know what his unpredictable reaction would be. 

“Perhaps if you'd sent a report of substance, one of us might have voted differently.” Again, she tries to deflect it back to the committee, to remove the personal element from it. She cannot be the one to blame for it if she's going to succeed in convincing him that she wants him and she has to if she's going to keep Perrin safe.

“One of us?” He sneers.

“I'm not going to just wave something through because of our… relationship.” Mon keeps her voice steady, not wanting him to recognise the fear consuming her. Krennic in this mood is capable of anything.

“Relationship? You told me we didn't have one, that the only reason you kissed me back was fear of reprisal.” He's cornered her with that. She can't disagree with him or he'll know she was lying and she can't agree with it, if she ever hopes to progress this. So she just ignores it.

“Which is the issue here? That your application was rejected or that I was the one who swung the vote?” Why is he making this about her? 

“The issue is betrayal.” His tone is flat.

Mon laughs “Betrayal? I did my job.”

“Your job?” He responds and Mon has a vision of what the two of them in a relationship could look like: her forever compromised whenever he needs Senate approval, pushing things though she doesn't agree with simply to avoid this kind of argument.

“Yes, my job. If any one else had requested the amount of money you did, with the pointless 500 pages you submitted, they would've been rejected.” Mon finally stands. “If you need proof, check out the last funding application we received or ask Lio Partagaz how much we denied him on the basis of a similar report.”

“I'm not Lio.” He emphasises each word. Mon pauses. Here they are again, him thinking she's done something because it's him, her trying to convince him that it was business. How many times will they have this very conversation?

“This wasn't personal.” Her voice is softer now.

“It was 5-4, you were the deciding vote.” Would her vote have mattered if it was 6-3, she wonders?

“I'm the chairman.” She retorts. “I'm always the deciding vote when it's split.”

“It was my request…” Krennic steps around her desk to come face to face with her.

“So what? I should just abandon my principles for you?” How dare he suggest that! Anger's simmering beneath the service as Mon tries to reign it in. If he thinks she'd just forgo everything she stands for because it's him, he doesn't know her at all and he certainly cannot have feelings for her.

“This wasn't about your principles. This was about us .” 

“No Director, not everything is about you.” It's a repeat of a previous argument they've had. 

“So this wasn't revenge for me not being here when you got back?” Mon blinks. Is he being serious?

“No.” Krennic frowns at that. He'd sent her the report as an olive branch after her last accusations and the suggestion that he could hurt her, to try and prove to her that if she doesn't yet trust him personally, she can professionally, in the hope that some foundations could be laid for trust to be built upon. When he'd received her reply by way of a rejection, he thought she was annoyed at him. But now he doesn't know, doesn't quite understand it. Rejecting his request because she was angry at him had infuriated him but at least he could understand why she'd done it.

“So then, why?”

“Because I'm not prepared to agree to hundreds of thousands of credits being spent on a project I know nothing about.”

“But I told you what it was.”

“And you expect me to believe that you're wasting your time on trying to use minerals as an energy source?”

“I didn't say that .” Mon's not entirely sure which ‘that’ he's referring to. Something tells her that he's been lying about his energy project. Should she labour the point with him, dig deeper in case he isn't being truthful? Or does she, in this moment, take off her rebellion hat and just let it go?

“What exactly are you saying?” Krennic doesn't recognise this side of Mon.

“If you'd wanted to, you could've voted in my favour. Four of your fellow senators did.”

“Senator Danascar?” Mon raises an eyebrow. “He'd sell his own daughter into slavery if he could gain financially from it.”

Krennic narrows his eyes at her. What is she implying? How little does she think of him? “You think I buy their votes?” His words are laced with surprise and hurt. “Have I ever tried to buy yours?” He seethes, steering the conversation in a direction she was not expecting.

“We both know it would be pointless if you tried.” 

“So what, because I haven't tried with you, I could be doing it with the others?” 

“Perhaps there are other ways of buying people.” Mon doesn't know why she says it and regrets it as soon as she does. The implication is heavy between them. Krennic looks as though he's just been slapped.

“You think that's what it has all been about?” She can hear the hurt in his voice, almost feel the pain. “How much of a monster do you think I am and how long have you thought it?” Mon doesn't know how to answer it. She doesn't know where the line is anymore, doesn't know what part she's supposed to be playing anymore. Does she tell him the truth? Does she correct him, reassure him that she doesn't think it?

Her silence is enough of an answer for him. “I see.” His words are icy. And then he's turning to leave her office, the conversation at an end. It only takes a moment for Mon to realise she needs to stop him leaving.

“Wait…” Krennic freezes at her voice and then slowly turns back to her, closing the distance between them.

“Mon, I don't understand why you keep resisting this, why you keep making me out to be a villain.” He gently grips her chin, tilting her head. He presses his lips to hers. Mon doesn't react. Krennic pulls back.

“I'm done waiting, Mon.” There's no malice in his words, no threat. And then he's gone leaving Mon wondering what he means. Surely he's not just walking away?

Mon finds out what he means three days later. She's at a meeting with a member of the Trade Federation to discuss support for a bill she didn't even know had been drafted. She's not entirely sure why she agreed to the meeting, the Trade Federation holds very little sway these days, Palpatine having clipped their wings with the formation of the Empire, and his nationalisation of trade. The meeting is to take place at a Caf House in the Federal District, an establishment that Mon doesn't frequent and as she realises later, is near to the Naval Intelligence Headquarters. Krennic’s office. So, it shouldn't surprise her when he walks through the doors. But it does, catches her completely off guard. Her mouth dries and her heart races. Will this be round two? His eyes land on her almost as soon as he walks into the caf house. There's a fleeting moment where she thinks he might speak to her or at the very least acknowledge her, but he doesn't. He gives her one look and then turns away from her as though he's never met her. The rebuke stings. It takes Mon by surprise. And she realises that this time she's pushed him too far and she doesn't know how to fix it or if it can even be fixed. But more than that, she's disappointed. She tells herself it's because it makes her and Bail's plans more dangerous but she knows it's a lie. The truth is that she enjoys their interactions more than she should, enjoys their banter, even the flirtatious banter, more than she should and she'll miss it if it has come to an abrupt end. The realisation of that takes her by surprise and she's reminded of the comparisons she made between Krennic and Perrin, comparisons that she never should have made but she did all the same. The same comparisons pointed out the glaringly obvious connection between her and Krennic that she's destroyed because she wouldn't commit, too afraid of what would happen, too worried about falling in too deep and too much of a coward to use the opportunity presented to her. And that opportunity is lost and who knows what information is lost to the rebellion along with it. She's an idiot and now she has to live with the consequences of her mistakes.

The Imperial banners flutter with the movement of people as one by one the new graduates walk across the stage and collect their rank insignia plaques. The black and white of the emblem taunts Mon as she pretends to watch the ceremony. She's only there because one of the new naval officers is Chandrilan and Mon knows her parents. Parents who are not in attendance because they do not agree with their daughter, Aliga's,  chosen career path. But Lauressa Solartha had reached out to Mon and asked if she would attend so that at least the young woman would have someone there on such an important day. Mon had reluctantly agreed, not realising what the day would involve or how much Imperial propaganda she would be forced to sit through. But she's done what was expected of her, sat not too near the front but close enough to be visible, clapped when necessary, clapped louder for Aliga and now she's praying it will be over soon so that she can leave or at least get to the after gala. Once there, she only has to stay an hour or two and then she can leave. As another of the graduates walks across the stage, Mon wishes she'd insisted Perrin come with her, he'd have spent the entire ceremony making jokes about how serious they all look and how choosing to risk your life on far off worlds without knowing what you're dying for, is really something worth celebrating. That thought brings her to back to Aliga's relationship with her parents, how fractious that is because she chose to commit to the Empire. Mon wonders what she would've done if it had been Leida graduating today. Would she have supported her? She couldn't really object to it when she serves in the Imperial Senate. Would it just be another mask she dons to hide the truth of what she's been doing? Could she support Leida's choice knowing that at some point they would find themselves on opposing sides in what's to come? And where would Perrin fit in that? Those are questions she's glad she doesn't need to answer. 

There's a loud applause around her as people stand to their feet, pulling Mon out of her thoughts. She follows suit, her eyes scanning the stage to try and decipher what's happening. Motti, Chief of the Imperial Navy, is standing on the stage now, his hand raised to quiet the applauding audience. They fall silent, taking their seats and then he starts speaking. Mon listens to the first few words and then zones out. It's the usual twisted propaganda that is spouted at Imperial events and she's had enough propaganda for today. 

Finally, the speech is over and the audience begins to filter out of the room into the hall allocated for the after gala. Mon stays behind, waits for Aliga to finish her conversation with one of the other graduates and then beckons her over. Mon hugs her in congratulations, pretends to be happy for her and they two catch up briefly before Aliga insists they join the rest of the guests in the other room. Mon reluctantly agrees and immediately regrets it when they join the party and she is, once again, surrounded by Imperial Officers. They've barely stepped into the room before Aliga is whisked away by several of her fellow graduates, leaving Mon by herself. She doesn't mind, not really, the girl should be able to celebrate with her peers but it leaves Mon in a rather awkward position. She scans the crowd of guests for someone she knows but the only person she recognises that she would be prepared to have a conversation with is Krennic and given their awkward non interaction the day before, that's not going to happen. Instead, she takes a glass from a nearby server's tray and decides to use the party as an opportunity to gather intel. 

She navigates through the mass of people, occasionally stopping to engage in small talk with people she doesn't know, all the while listening to the conversations going on around her. One group of officers are discussing the first posting for the officers, it's a planet in the Lothal Sector and Mon is reminded of the comments made about the Lothal Sector the night she had dinner with Krennic. She passes another group discussing Mina Rau and the Empire's response to undocumented workers on the planet, as she heads to a table to dispose of her empty glass. That piece of information she stores for Luthen, he's been hiding some of his people there for years in between them carrying out covert missions. There was a situation last year involving one of his teams but that hasn't stopped him using the planet. 

It's as she's making her way back around the room that she finally catches the attention of Krennic. His eyes drinking her in, slowly tracing the length of her body, taking in her outfit. It's different to what he normally sees her in, not her Senate clothes but not the formal dresses she usually wears to events like these. The pull of his lips and the flicker of desire in his eyes suggests that he approves. Mon waits for him to acknowledge her but he doesn't, just takes her in as though she is a prize too far from his grasp. She supposes he must think that. Mon offers him a smile, an olive branch. He doesn't return it. And then he looks away, the moment between them gone. She waits a moment, almost in shock, to see if he will look back or approach her but he does neither. And so, she continues with her intel gathering.

After another half an hour of pointless conversations acting as cover for what she's really doing, Mon decides to make her way to the edge of the room, out of the way of those mingling and hopefully away from anyone who might want to flag her down for a conversation. She feels Krennic's eyes on her as she moves but he doesn't approach her, doesn't even smile at her. By accident, she finds herself positioned near a group of ISB officers. Mon recognises several of them but not by name. They're standing too far away for her to hear their conversation but then the group moves back to allow someone to pass, putting them closer to her and she catches the tail end of the conversation.

“If what we're seeing and hearing is true, this could be a full on insurgency soon.” One of them says, “It needs to be nipped in the bud before it can escalate.”

“And how do you propose we do that? Send in stormtroopers? Execute anyone we think might be a dissident. That worked on Ferrix.” A second retorts. Mon tries to block out the conversation but they're too close to her.

“Could always engineer a situation that requires force.” The first one shrugs.

“I thought that's what they did on Ferrix.” The third finally joins the conversation. 

“Yeah but that was different. Encouraging an insurgency to root out the rebels might work this time, if Partagaz has the stomach for it.”

“And then just kill anyone who gets caught up in it.” One of them shrugs, his tone as neutral as though they're talking about the weather. Nausea washes over Mon. Is it a requirement of the Empire that anyone who joins its ranks be so cavalier about murder?

“Well, they're all dissidents, aren't they? It is Ghorman.” 

Mon can feel her throat constricting, the air leaving her lungs with each word. This is Ghorman they're talking about, Dasi's people. How can they be so callous? Mon glances around, sees the Imperial Banners, the grey uniforms, the white uniforms and suddenly she can't breathe properly. The hand holding her glass is shaking and the room is spinning. There's a table near her. Mon wraps her free hand around her other hand to steady it and then pushes the glass towards the table. She manages to place it down without smashing it. As soon as it connects with the wood, her hands separate from it as though coming into contact with something hot. With both hands she smoothes down her dress in an attempt to slow her breathing. It fails. The voices around her become distorted and her brain goes into overdrive. Almost on autopilot, her legs start moving. She clumsily navigates her way through the mass of people, each one a blur. The entrance is in sight and without thinking, she heads for it. If anyone questions her early departure, she'll come up with a plausible excuse, for now she just needs to get out of the room and away from everything. 

It takes too long to leave the celebration but once she does, once she's stepped out of the suffocation of the Empire into the neutrality of the hallway, it's as though she's stepped out of a great darkness into the sunlight. Her breathing slows to full steady breaths, her hands stop shaking, she can hear clearly again. Mon gives herself a moment to appreciate it and then she continues on down the corridor to the turbo lift. She calls the lift and taps her foot impatiently as she waits for it to come. The wait seems to last a lifetime and then finally the doors slide open and she steps inside. She lets out a deep breath as relief washes over her, she has survived her panic attack and without her anxiety medication, she has escaped the gala and now she's heading home.

The door to the turbo lift closes half way before jolting and then opening again. A hand appears and then a far off voice says something and then there's a laugh, it's closer. Mon recognises it. The owner of the hand steps into the lift sideways. He still hasn't seen Mon but Mon has seen him. Her breath hitches. The lift doors hiss shut and Orson Krennic finally casts a glance to see who he's sharing the lift with. Mon refuses to meet his eye. The air is heavy between them. Mon can hear her heart beat. A moment passes between them in complete silence as they wait to see who will speak first.

“Senator Mothma.” His tone is polite, as though they know of each other but don't know one another and certainly haven't kissed. It's odd, they've never had that level of unfamiliarity.

“Director Krennic.” She tries to reciprocate his tone. He nods, his eyes scrutinising her face. Mon swallows. His gaze follows the movement down her neck. It burns her. Still she refuses to meet his eye, letting him assess her as she looks away. His eyes narrow slightly as he takes in her icy demeanor. Then he reaches around her to select his floor. He doesn't ask her to move. His arm brushes her waist, as it has before. Mon tries not to flinch. The contact suggests this won't be a repeat of the scene in her office or the caf house. But the lack of conversation suggests it won't be like their previous interactions. There won't be witty or flirtatious banter that crosses the line before she pulls it back. There won't be inappropriate remarks or even inappropriate touching. Still, the air is as stifling as it was on all of those occasions. 

Krennic pulls his arm back. It glides across her waist. She can feel it under the thin material of her dress as though it was touching her skin. For a moment, that image passes through her mind. Mon shuts it down. Krennic stands beside her. There’s barely an inch between their bodies. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the rise and fall of his chest. Still she refuses to look at him. Krennic flexes his hand and she can hear the harsh sounds of the leather glove as it moves. It's cold as it skirts against her fingers. She wants to move her hand away but she doesn't. Krennic’s fingers touch hers again, this time intentionally, just a phantom of a touch. Mon's breathing shifts. It seems louder, his does too, the only noises in the uncomfortable silence. She doesn't know what to do. The palpable tension between the two of them sucks the air out of the lift. It's as though they're standing side by side next to a powder keg, waiting for it to detonate. Only it's not detonating and the anticipation is too much to bear. Why won't he speak to her? Why is he only brushing his fingers against hers? Why is he when there is so much hateful angst between them? Why is he not doing more? He has her at his mercy, trapped in the turbo lift with him until they reach her floor and he's not doing anything. Is it part of the game he's playing? Is he trying to force her to make the first move? The tension is too much, it's suffocating her.

As soon as the doors open on her floor, Mon practically runs out of the lift. Her heels click on the marble floor, the sound reverberating around her. Between each click, there's a heavy footstep. Krennic. He's following her. She increases her speed. Krennic follows suit. Mon curses. She's unfamiliar with the layout of the building, doesn't know a shortcut or where she can go to lose him. The landing pad should be just at the end of the corridor but it seems endless. Mon tries to speed up but she missteps and loses her footing slightly, not enough to cause her to fall or lose her balance but enough to slow her down. It's time she doesn't have.

He catches up to her. He reaches for her hand but she's just out of reach. His hand brushes hers. The touch is electric. Mon tries to ignore it but it's no use. Every nerve in her body is tingling. Her heart is racing. She takes another step away from him and another. Her body is wound tight like a spring, one touch could set it off. But she ignores it, focuses on distancing herself from him, on reaching the landing pad.

“Mon.” There's a desperation to his voice. It shatters her resolve and the magnet between them pulls her back into his orbit. Her footsteps stop. Mon closes her eyes, cursing herself as she waits for the inevitable.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

Irritation is not an emotion Director Orson Krennic feels often. Annoyance, yes. Frustration, regularly. But irritation is rare and yet that is exactly how he's feeling as he listens to one of Galen Erso's engineers tell him the problems with the Kalkite alternative they've been experimenting with. He'd known it wouldn't work before they began their tests; Galen had told him as much years ago. But they had to try, one last ditch attempt before they concluded that they would need to mine Ghorman's core. He's in the middle of asking a question he knows the answer to, simply so he can say that it was asked, when his comms link beeps. Orson waits a moment, finishing his question and encouraging the engineer to answer it before looking at his wrist chrono. It's a notification for an email from Senator Mon Mothma. Interesting . Perhaps she's back from Chandrila and has realised he never got the chance to arrange their dinner date before he was called away to Eadu for an emergency that didn't actually require his presence to be resolved. Or perhaps it's because he hasn't set up a meeting for the conversation he promised they'd finish. Perhaps her reaching out to him means that she's finally ready to meet him halfway. And that is where his irritation stems from because instead of reading her email, finding out which of those is the reason and coming up with a response, he's stuck listening to engineers tell him information they all already know the answer to.

“So, in short, it doesn't work.” Krennic concludes once the engineer has finished speaking.

“No, it doesn't.” Erso answers, the focus shifting to him. 

“So, we need Ghorman.” It's more of a thought aloud than a statement. He's already planning next steps for when he returns to Coruscant. The mention of the Empire's capital brings his thoughts back to a certain senator who requires his attention.

“Very well, let's wrap this up.” Krennic exclaims, trying to hide his desperation. The quicker they leave the room, the quicker he can see just what his senator has sent him. He's not entirely sure when he started to think of Mon as his. Was it the night of Davo Sculdun’s party when they sparred over the Karmeen and he ripped back the top layer of her well perfected Senator mask? Was it the day after when he bumped into her in the Senate and they'd flirted? Was it the night she joined his dinner party and he'd allowed himself to imagine a reality in which she was a regular attendant at those dinners, seated on his right, one of his hands on her thigh and the other across the back of her chair, the way they had been that night. He thinks it was before that night, but he can't say for certain. And the last time they'd spoken, Mon hadn't pulled him on using it. But then that conversation had been derailed by her ‘fear of reprisals’ comment. In truth, it had come as a shock to him. He'd thought everything was mutual, and is still convinced that it is. He can still picture the look in her eyes when they'd kissed that second time, the way she pleaded for more before they were interrupted. He can still feel the way she'd melted under his touch the night of the party at the Alderaanian Embassy, that moment of surrender. It was beautiful. And then she'd ruined everything with that nonsense about ‘fear of reprisals’, leaving him stunned and if he's honest, hurt that she would even suggest that. He's never once hinted that he would hurt her, quite the opposite in fact. He'd punished Sly Moore for informing her husband that Mon had been his dinner guest because of the problems it could cause for her . Does she not understand that he will protect her, not hurt her? Or was her response just an excuse to put distance between them? He knows that she's been struggling with whatever has been developing between them and likes to use her husband as an excuse to press pause on things (said husband may need to be removed from the equation at some point) so perhaps that is why she'd said it: fear of something growing even more between them. That's a conversation that needs to be had when he returns to Coruscant. If only he hadn't been dragged away on this non emergency. Perhaps, her email is an olive branch to restore their relationship to how it had been prior to that fateful conversation whilst she was on Chandrila.

And then he reads her email. He opens it as soon as the room has emptied, his impatience and irritation too great for him to wait any longer. The first thing he notices is the tone of it. It's too polished, too formal as though great thought went into the drafting to get it just right, to make it sound professional. The second thing he notices is that her signature at the bottom is accompanied by her official seal meaning it's unlikely to be a personal email. The third thing he notices is there is an attachment. Then his eyes scan over the contents of the body of text and he realises it isn't personal at all. At first, that concerns Orson but then he remembers that his email to her had been Senate related and so that would serve as a way in for any non professional emails that either of them may send and he intends to do precisely that. Until that is, he reads the attachment. 

She's sent him the official decision of the Oversight Committee in response to his funding request. They rejected his request. Krennic sits there staring at the words on the screen. How could she? Is this why she's put distance between them recently, because she already knew the decision? Included in the decision sheet, as always, is a breakdown of the vote. There was one vote in it. Orson can feel his blood simmering, one vote! A small voice tells him that it wouldn't have been her, she wouldn't have done it and he clings to that until his eyes scan further down the page. There in black and white is her name. She voted against his request. How could she? How could she? The other four names are ones he'd expected but her. How could she? Is this what she'd meant by fear of reprisals? Or had she known all along that she was going to reject it and every interaction had just been her stringing him along so that the blow was softened and his hand was stayed from punishment? Well, it didn't work. He thought they shared a connection, thought that her marriage and morals were the obstacle but perhaps the only real obstacle is her. But that doesn't seem quite right, not when she'd melted beneath his touch. Unless, that's why she's done it. But even that seems at odds with who Mon is. Perhaps she's done it because he didn't keep his word and she's feeling rejected by him or perhaps she's done it to get his attention. Well, it's certainly done that. 

Orson wraps up his business on Eadu, leaves them with strict instructions and then returns to Coruscant, the journey through deep space taking longer than he would've liked. He spends it trying to decide what exactly he'll say to her, how he'll confront her over the betrayal and then he imagines her apology, and just how they'll make up. But that thought is quickly banished from his head. Mon has betrayed him.

She's in her office when he arrives at the Senate building. Her assistant is nowhere in sight and her door is closed. He pushes it open without knocking. Senator Mothma is sitting at her desk, scrolling through something on her datapad. Mon looks up at him.

“Director Krennic, I see you've forgotten how to knock.” There's a smug teasing to her voice. If she's trying to be playful, he's not in the mood. If anything, it riles him further. How can she act normal, after what she's done?

“What is this?” He tosses his own datapad, not really caring where it lands. It clatters against her desk and she flinches at the noise. For a brief moment, he feels guilty that he's made her jumpy but then he remembers the reason he's there.

“The outcome of your funding application.” Mon answers, there's a hesitancy to her answer. Krennic’s not sure if it's as a result of him or where their conversation is headed. There's a part of him that interprets her response as facetious and he wants to knock it right out of her. But this is Mon and he cannot treat her like one of his subordinates. That's not enough to temper his anger.

“You. Refused. It.” He intentionally punctuates each word, trying to demonstrate how betrayed he feels. It fails.

“No, the committee refused it.” Mon responds. Krennic lets his immediate retort die on his tongue. Of course Mon would challenge him, when doesn't she? And he loves her like this usually but not today. Today he's too annoyed at her and her being clever is making it worse.

“5-4. Shall we guess who the deciding vote was?”

“Perhaps if you'd sent a report of substance, one of us might have voted differently.” She tells him and Krennic resists the urge to clap at her. What a performance she's giving! He's almost impressed at her deflecting the blame.

“One of us?” He sneers.

“I'm not going to just wave something through because of our… relationship.” Her use of the word relationship takes him by surprise, only days ago, she'd balked at the suggestion. It gives Krennic pause for a moment. Is she finally coming around to the idea of the two of them? 

“Relationship? You told me we didn't have one, that the only reason you kissed me back was fear of reprisal.” It comes out harsher than he'd intended but he needs to know if she's prepared to give them a chance. Mon ignores his question. Krennic grinds his teeth. Why won't she be honest with him?

“Which is the issue here? That your application was rejected or that I was the one who swung the vote?” Once again, Mon is trying to draw a line between personal and professional but how can there be? The two have to overlap, she's a senator for kriff's sake and he's high up in the administration. Is she still playing him or is she naive? Perhaps, now is the time to properly have this out with her, lay all cards on the table and see how much damage is caused.

“The issue is betrayal.”

Mon laughs. “Betrayal? I did my job.” Her answer infuriates him.

“Your job?”

“Yes, my job. If anyone else had requested the amount of money you did with the pointless 500 pages you submitted, they would've been rejected.” Mon stands from her desk. “If you need proof, check out the last funding application we received or ask Lio Partagaz how much we denied him on the basis of a similar report.” Is she deliberately ignoring the issue?

“I'm not Lio.” He retorts. How dare she even compare the two! He's pretty certain Lio Partagaz has not had his mouth on her.

“This wasn't personal.” Her voice is softer now but he doesn't quite believe her. How can he when her single vote would've made the difference? In fact, abstaining because of her conflict of interest would have been better than what she did and more in line with her bloody principles than what she did. 

“It was 5-4, you were the deciding vote.” 

“I'm the chairman.” Mon retorts. “I'm always the deciding vote when it's split.” Krennic wants to scoff at that but he doesn't, he wants to tell her that she could have voted in his favour, but he doesn't. He doesn't need to, Mon's smart enough to understand his meaning.

“It was my request…” Krennic steps around her desk to come face to face with her. He knows the impact this has on Mon, has seen it enough times to be able to use it to his advantage.

“So what? I should just abandon my principles for you?” Why is she making this about her? Does she not see how damaging this could be for his career? Does she not understand that if he cannot finish the project due to lack of funding, it will be him who faces the consequences? But more than that, does she not see what it means for them? 

“This wasn't about your principles. This was about us .” 

“No Director, not everything is about you.” She's misinterpreted his meaning but he doesn't put her right. The more they argue, the more he gets a glimmer of how she views him and he's starting to understand why she's put so much distance between them. What he doesn't quite understand is why she thinks it. He hasn't done anything to cause it, other than not keeping to their date.

“So this wasn't revenge for me not being here when you got back?” He has to ask the question, has to know if that's why she's being like this. If it is, it gives him a glimmer of hope.

“No.” Krennic frowns at that. He'd sent her the report as an olive branch after her last accusations and the suggestion that he could hurt her, to try and prove to her that if she doesn't yet trust him personally, she can professionally, in the hope that some foundations could be laid for trust to be built upon. When he'd received her reply by way of a rejection, he thought she was annoyed at him. But now he doesn't know, doesn't quite understand it. Rejecting his request because she was angry at him had infuriated him but at least he could understand why she'd done it.

“So then, why?”

“Because I'm not prepared to agree to hundreds of thousands of credits being spent on a project I know nothing about.” Confusion washes over Krennic. He'd stood in front of her stupid committee and answered questions on the energy project. 

“But I told you what it was.” Krennic reasons, his confusion deepening. 

“And you expect me to believe that you're wasting your time on trying to use minerals as an energy source?” Classic Mon. This is the Mon he goes toe to toe with in committee hearings. This is the Mon that spars with him so delightfully, the Mon that makes him wonder what it would be like to have her give up control just once.

“I didn't say that .” He deliberately keeps his response vague so that she cannot dig further into it. Of course, he doesn't expect her to believe it, nor did he tell her that he's using minerals as an energy source, exactly. Truth be told, what he wants is for her to trust him but he recognises now that they are a long way off that. 

“What exactly are you saying?” Her tone is accusatory, it's almost feral. Krennic’s never seen her like this before and he doesn't like it. He pauses for a moment, trying to decide how to answer the question. His answer comes down to the interpretation of it and he decides to interpret it a certain way, to bring the conversation back to the issue at hand so that they can at least resolve that.

“If you'd wanted to, you could've voted in my favour. Four of your fellow senators did.” Krennic points out.

“Senator Danascar?” Mon raises an eyebrow. “He'd sell his own daughter into slavery if he could gain financially from it.”

Krennic narrows his eyes at her. What is she implying? Surely she doesn't mean… surely she's not implying that he buys votes? How little does she think of him?

 “You think I buy their votes?” His words are laced with surprise and hurt. 

“Have I ever tried to buy yours?” He seethes at the implication, the more he digs, the worse her opinion of him seems to be. Krennic cannot fathom why she thinks so low of him.

“We both know it would be pointless if you tried.” He cannot argue with that.

“So what, because I haven't tried with you, I could be doing it with the others?” There's disbelief in his voice.

“Perhaps there are other ways of buying people.” The comment hits Krennic with more force than the slap she'd given him the first time he kissed her. Is that really what she thinks? For a moment he's speechless. How can she think that months of chasing her, of trying to get her to admit how she feels, of wanting to touch her and all the flirting has been to win her vote? How can she think he would use her like that?

“You think that's what it has all been about?” Krennic hears the hurt in his voice, and it shocks him.  “How much of a monster do you think I am and how long have you thought it?” 

Mon doesn't answer it. Her silence is enough of an answer for him. Something in him snaps. He wanted them both to lay their cards on the table and see what damage was caused. She's done exactly that. 

“I see.” His words are icy. And then he's turning to leave her office, the conversation at an end. He takes a few steps toward her door when she calls him back.

“Wait…” Krennic freezes at her voice and then slowly turns back to her, closing the distance between them. This is it. This is the moment where she's going to reveal how she feels and so he tries to coax it out of her.

“Mon, I don't understand why you keep resisting this, why you keep making me out to be a villain.” He gently grips her chin, tilting her head. He presses his lips to hers but Mon doesn't respond. Hurt mixed with realisation slices through him. She's not ready yet and he doesn't want to wait for her to become ready anymore. If three kisses and whatever happened the night of Bail Organa's party isn't enough to convince her, will she ever be ready? 

“I'm done waiting, Mon.” There's no malice in his words, no threat. And then he's gone. He is done waiting. He's done waiting for her to figure out what she wants, to get over the guilt she's feeling and to accept the inevitable. Perhaps walking away from her will force her into making a decision.

There's a small independent caf house just down the street from his office on Coruscant that he likes to frequent when he's having a bad day. Today is one of those days. The Eadu Engineers have sent through their final report on the kalkite alternative they were testing and it's worse than he'd expected. Much worse. He will have to inform Emperor Palpatine that they need to mine pure kalkite from Ghorman and the only way to do that is gorge mining. It will render the planet unstable, which is not an ideal situation but it has to be done if they are to succeed in building the Death Star and succeed, he will. The frustrating thing about the findings is that it means all of their efforts over the past year were for naught and his recent funding request to the Senate was also for naught. Still, he gained something incredibly valuable from the experience: knowledge. And one piece in particular about a certain senator. But that doesn't mean the fallout, which has now been deemed unnecessary, isn't frustrating. And the realisation that it could've been avoided is just one of the reasons he's having a bad day and on his way to the caf house.

By some unfortunate, or perhaps fortunate, coincidence, the senator in question is there when he arrives. She's seated on a small table by the door, talking to a member of the Trade Federation. Their eyes meet for a moment and his mouth dries. Mon looks as though she wants to speak to him, perhaps she wants to clear the air, but she remains seated. Krennic meant what he said to her, he's done waiting. But if she wishes to speak to him, perhaps ignoring her might spark a reaction from her. Perhaps, all is not lost. So he casts one glance at her and then looks away. He walks to the counter, places his order and then takes a seat in her direct eye line, challenging her to come to him. She doesn't, not even when her meeting is finished. She doesn't even acknowledge him as she leaves the caf house, an air of proud grace circling her and Krennic decides that the next move is hers and until she does, he'll be a wall of ice where she is concerned. Perhaps that will provoke her into finally confronting her feelings.

To say Orson is bored would be a fair assessment of his current situation. He's not entirely sure why he's at the gala. Yes, one of the new graduates is the son of an old friend and yes Lio had suggested that he may find some talent amongst the wannabe pilots but they're naval graduates, he needs engineers not people to fly ships. He's half tempted to steal some of Lio's people in payback for making him attend this soiree, if it can even be called that. The Republic may have been a sham but kriff were the graduation parties good. Nowadays, everyone's too scared to let loose in case they end up demoted or jobless. There was one particular party that has stayed with him all these years since. It was the night he first met a certain senator. They were both so young back then. She was newly elected and not long married and the most beautiful woman he'd seen. They barely said two words to one another and then the war took him away from Coruscant and years passed before he saw her again, summoned to appear before one of her committees. Orson was in awe of her that day. She'd grown into the Senator Mothma she is today and developed a talent for making things difficult for him.

He checks the chrono on the wall, just one more hour and then he can leave. But then as his eyes scan back across the room, he notices her. Mon. In that dress she'd be difficult to miss. His gaze travels the length of her body, taking in every curve. Krennic swallows. Ignoring her this evening is going to be difficult, he thinks as a smirk pulls at his lips and desire stirs in him. Mon smiles at him, it's soft. Something about it irritates him. He doesn't respond to her, simply admires the view once last time and then looks away. The ball is in her court, has been since their argument in her office. He's not chasing her anymore. If she wants him, it's her turn to make the effort. And if she doesn't, well he's not wasting any more of his time on someone who's not interested. The difficulty with that plan is that it requires him to ignore her and that's almost impossible to do when she looks so stunning. Her every move attracts his attention as though he's in tune to the very space she occupies. It takes every ounce of his willpower not to walk over to her and lay his hands on her. He notes that she's unaccompanied and wonders if that in itself is a message she's trying to send him: there are no obstacles today. If it is, it's not good enough. Mon needs to do more than that to convince him. And so he ignores her. Yes, he clocks her movements, though not by choice, a moth drawn to a flame, but no more than that. No fleeting looks across the crowded room, no conversation, no intimacy, nothing. He's playing a high stakes game with her to see if she'll bend but as he monitors her movements and interactions, the answer to that question seems to be no. Still, he watches with amusement as she works her way through the gala attendees, striking up conversations with some of them. Krennic pays close attention to who she speaks to, more out of curiosity than anything else and in doing so, learns a great deal about the woman of his affections. The people she engages with are not people that he would immediately start a conversation with and it reminds him just how different the two of them are. Mon is the bleeding heart of the Senate and Orson's about to instruct the destruction of a planet. That being said, he cannot ignore the chemistry between the two of them, as they say, opposites attract. He notes with some interest that she doesn't speak to a single person of rank whereas, having disregarded the new graduates, the only people Krennic speaks to are of rank. The discrepancy between their social circles interests Krennic in a way that makes him start to understand her hesitancy to start anything with him. To be honest, he doesn't particularly care who she associates with but then he has the luxury of not caring. Mon doesn't have that and he suspects that association with him would cost her some allies but that is not a good enough reason, as far as he is concerned, to deny what's been developing between them. He deliberately ensures he's within her eyesight at all times, in case she decides it's time to close the distance between them. Even when Motti, Chief of the Imperial Navy, grabs him for a conversation, he makes sure that if she were to search for him, she'd spot him easily.

The conversation with Motti is more political than he'd been expecting. Motti is trying to argue that the Imperial Navy is underfunded and under-resourced and normally Orson would agree but tonight he cannot bring himself to care. Just as Motti starts labouring his point, Krennic senses something out of the corner of his eye. His head turns to see what has caught his attention. It's Mon. She seems to be in distress. She's holding her wine glass with both hands and placing it on a nearby table. Whilst she seems out of sorts, she doesn't appear to be in need of rescuing. He turns his attention back to Motti but his gaze remains on Mon, tracing her movements and monitoring her demeanor, this time out of concern and not desire. He watches her. He's never seen her like this, she's normally so composed and it worries him. And so he keeps his gaze fixed on her, ready to assist her if she needs it. But she manages to step out of the room without raising his concerns further and so he doesn't immediately jump to her rescue. He does however, without much effort, persuade Motti to continue their conversation in the privacy of the corridor but by the time they've both navigated their way out of the after gala, Mon is nowhere to be seen. Krennic suspects that following the incident, she's gone home and so he turns his full attention to Motti and the two of them proceed down the corridor. Krennic knows that there is a turbolift nearby and seizes on the opportunity afforded to him to leave the dull soiree.

As they reach the lift, the doors are starting to close. Krennic slams his finger on the button, hoping he might stop it in its tracks. The doors reach the halfway point and then jolt back open. He puts his hand in between the doors to stop them from closing again. Krennic senses a figure in the lift but pays little attention to it. Motti is still talking to him, he makes a joke and Krennic laughs. Without looking at the current occupant, he steps into the lift sideways and shouts a final goodbye to Motti. Just as he gets the words out, the doors close. Orson turns to see with whom he's about to spend the next few minutes enclosed in the tight space. Surprise washes over him as his gaze lands on Mon, it's quickly replaced with a sick sense of satisfaction as he realises they're completely alone in the enclosed space. If he wanted to, he could make a move on her but he doesn't. A heavy tension swirls around them. He waits a moment to see if she'll acknowledge him. When she doesn't, Krennic decides to break the silence. 

“Senator Mothma.” He keeps his tone polite, trying to provoke a reaction from her. She seems to be in much better sorts than earlier.

“Director Krennic.” She mimics his tone, refusing to rise to his provocation. Interesting, he thinks. If he's going to get a reaction from her, it's going to take more.

He nods at her, his eyes tracing her face. He notes the slight change in her expression, the momentary widening of her eyes as he pushes her just the wrong side of comfortable. Mon swallows. His gaze follows the movement down her neck and it creates a dangerous image in his mind, one that involves her kneeling before him. Orson pushes that thought out of his mind as he notes the tension in her body and her icy demeanor. Perhaps it's a lost cause after all. Resigning himself to that fact, he decides to limit the time they have to spend in each other's company and reaches across Mon to press the button for his floor. He could've asked her to move or could've asked her to select the correct button but her glacial demeanor makes him want to have fun with her, after all, her body reacts to him. He lets his arm brush across her waist and feels the flutter of her stomach as he does. Oh yes, her body reacts to him. He pushes the button and then pulls his arm back, again touching her waist. The material of her dress ruffles underneath his arm and images of him grasping it, putting more ruffles in it before tearing it from her body enter his mind. Krennic flexes his hand, the sound of the leather moving penetrates the heavy silence around them. They're standing so close together that his fingers unintentionally nudge hers. He expects her to move her hand, a knee jerk reaction but she doesn't. So he does it again, barely touching her. Her breathing shifts. It's so quiet yet so loud at the same time and Krennic wonders if there'd be the same change if he had her writhing beneath him, his mouth bringing her to orgasm. Another dangerous thought. One that he should shut down before it goes anywhere but this time he doesn't. The air is stifling between them and he thinks that this might finally be it. She cannot deny this any longer. He suspects that if he were to kiss her now, she wouldn't resist but he won't. She has to be the one to initiate things this time. So, he waits. 

But then the lift pings for her floor and the doors slide open. Before he can say or do anything, Mon is exiting the lift at some speed. All thoughts of waiting for her to make the first move leave his mind, she's not denying him, not this time, not when they were so close. Krennic follows her out of the lift and down the corridor. Mon picks up her speed. Krennic follows suit. Mon loses her footing and it slows her down a fraction. Krennic smiles, the galaxy must be on his side. He's almost caught up to her. He reaches for her hand but she's just out of reach. His hand brushes hers. Mon's not ready to surrender, but this time Krennic finds that he doesn't mind. This time is different. He can sense her resolve weakening, she just needs a bit of coaxing.

“Mon.” There's a desperation to his voice. Krennic knows the moment her resolve breaks, the moment she finally gives in to the magnetic pull between them, the pull she's been trying to ignore for weeks and weeks. Her footsteps stop. At last, Krennic catches up to her. At last, she's within reach. At last, she's his.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

“Mon.” There's a desperation to his voice. It shatters her resolve and the magnet between them pulls her back into his orbit. Her footsteps stop. Mon closes her eyes, cursing herself as she waits for the inevitable. She lets out a slow breath and counts to ten. It's enough for Krennic to catch up to her. He's standing behind her. He places his hands on her waist gently and pulls her against him. She doesn't resist. She cannot. Her feet are rooted to the floor. She feels his body pressed against hers.

“Mon.” He repeats her name. “Don't run from me this time.”

“I thought you were done waiting.” She snaps and then regrets it. She hadn't realised just how much him giving her the cold shoulder has been bothering her. Or perhaps she hasn't wanted to admit it because that means admitting something else. But in that moment, as the tension suffocates them, she might finally be ready to accept that she wants it just as much as he does. But there's a difference between wanting it and letting it happen and that's what she's struggling with.

“I was.” He retorts.

“And now?” She asks, unable to stop the small glimmer of hope that flickers in her chest at his use of the past tense. Its presence shocks her.

“I think you know…” At his words, she tilts her head back slightly, her body almost on autopilot. Krennic places a kiss to her neck, just below her earlobe. “Mon… stop resisting.” She wants to pull away from him. She wants to lean into him. “Stop listening to the voice telling you this is wrong.” 

That jolts her out of her desire induced daze. It is wrong but she wants it. But she shouldn't. A battle is raging in her as to whether she should give in to him. Krennic, sensing that she's not quite ready to surrender, kisses a trail down from her ear to the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, just above the collarbone. The last time he'd done it, all of her resolve had melted beneath his lips. He starts off gentle and it's enough to distract Mon from the war of thoughts going on in her head. She forces herself to concentrate, refuses to allow the sensation of his mouth on her skin to distract her from the decision she has to make. If she's going to do this, really do this, it has to be planned, it can't just be her giving into carnal desires. She knows this is the moment that it all comes crashing down around her. Once won't be enough for Krennic. If she gives in now, she's effectively giving herself to him. His lips on her are making her want to surrender, her mind is screaming at her to just say yes and work out the details later. But she can't. She has to be smart about it. There's too many things at stake to not think this through. But Krennic’s reaching up with one of his hands to slide the material of her dress away from her shoulder. His fingers are softer than she was expecting. When did he remove his gloves? The caress of the Ghorman silk as it slides against her skin reminds her of the last time he'd done it. She'd been so close to giving in that night and then he'd said something about Perrin. She forgets what it was now, it doesn't really matter. What matters is he'd said it. And then she thinks of Perrin. Would he forgive her for this? Would it ruin any chance they've salvaged to make their marriage work? Would knowing it was to keep him safe change anything? Or would she be dooming them to a lifetime of bitterness and misery, after all they can't get divorced. Mon closes her eyes and takes in a shaky breath. Is she prepared to risk it all to save him? Is Perrin never forgiving her a fair price to pay for removing him from Krennic's path? And what about her? What about the way her body is screaming out for him? What about how lonely she's felt since he started ignoring her? Anger jolts through her at the reminder of how cold he's been with her and now he wants… what exactly? To pretend nothing’s changed? For her to cheat on her husband with a man who's treated her appallingly? Why is none of this simple?

“Mon.” Krennic's voice is low, she feels the vibrations against her now exposed shoulder. He squeezes her hip. “Stop thinking and just let go.” But she can't because there's too much at stake. “Forget about what happens next and just give in.” 

“We can't.”

“Why? Because I'm still annoyed at you?” Krennic's voice is playful. “My dear, don't you know make up sex is often the best there is.” Mon twists her neck to face him.

“You're annoyed at me ?” Krennic groans. Why did he mention it? He finally has her where he wants her and he had to say the wrong thing. This is Mon. He has to be smart about this. If past experience is anything to go by, one wrong comment could derail everything. 

“We can talk about it later.” He brushes it off. Of course they need to talk about everything that's happened in the last few weeks but not right now. For one, he needs to get to the bottom of her ‘fear of reprisals comment’ and where exactly it came from but that can wait. 

“No, let's talk about it now.” Krennic groans. And then he does something she isn't expecting. His lips return to the sensitive spot on her neck, kissing it once before sucking aggressively on the skin, enough to leave a mark. Mon hisses. Krennic's tongue darts out to smooth over the skin. Mon whips her head around to face him, her eyes filled with fury and she slaps him. Krennic catches her wrist just as she makes contact with his cheek. Her eyes flick up to meet his and his fingers wrap tightly around her wrist before lifting it to his mouth. He lowers his lips to meet her pulse point, dragging a trail of kisses down her forearm, his eyes never leaving hers. He watches as her anger fuses into desire. And he's caught her . He just needs to reel her in. The hand that was on her hip until she turned settles on her waist and gently but firmly turns her around fully. Mon gasps at the force, so very Krennic . Mon thinks can feel the heat of his hand through the silk of her dress. She'd chosen it deliberately to make a statement, it's made from the finest Ghorman silk, most of her clothes have a connection to Ghorman these days, in a show of solidarity with Dasi. Krennic's hands seem intent on destroying it as he pulls the neckline down, his lips still peppering her skin.

“Stop.” Mon commands but her voice is weaker. Krennic's lips leave her collarbone for a moment.

“Keep pretending you don't want this…” His words are almost a threat. “I'll keep proving you wrong with a single touch.”

“So much for being done waiting.” She huffs. He doesn't quite hear it.

“What was that?”

“So much for being done waiting.” At that, Krennic's lips curl up into a smirk, one hand squeezes her hip, the other reaches up to her neck. Under any other circumstances, the smirk would make her blood run cold but with his hands placed where they are and desire flooding his expression, she can't feel anything but butterflies in the pit of her stomach as she waits for his next move. 

“Oh I was, my dear.” He retorts. “And then in the lift, I felt the flutter of your stomach as my arm brushed across it, heard your intake of breath and it reminded me of just how much you wanted it that day in the Senate.” As he says it, the hand that was on her hip, traces a line across her stomach and then up her ribcage. Mon's breath hitches. Orson's smirk widens.

“Just. Like. That.” Mon tries to ignore what he's doing to her body, the way it seems to melt from the barest touch. But he's setting her ablaze.

“I didn't betray you.” She says, trying to shift the conversation away from how much she wants it and how obvious it is, hoping it will give her time. Krennic tightens his grip on her throat, not enough to bruise but enough for her to feel it. For a brief moment, Mon thinks he might tighten his hold further, stopping her from breathing and choking the life out of her. Panic flashes in her eyes. Krennic senses it almost immediately and loosens his grip slightly, making a mental note that she’s not quite ready for that kind of sex. He runs the pad of his thumb down her neck softly to reassure her that she doesn’t need to be scared of him.

“Mon, we are not having that conversation now.”

“But you are going to try to seduce me after pretending I don't exist for days.” Mon rebuts.

“Come on, love, we both know I don't need to try.” Anger flashes across her features. Mon doesn't attempt to deny it, there's no point. She can feel the tightness in her stomach, can feel her underwear sticking to her, knows that she's close to giving in.

“And just like that, all is forgiven?” Sarcasm drips from her voice. For the second time, Mon finds herself imagining what it would be like to be involved with him. Their argument, if it can even be called that, is fleetingly close to a lover's quarrel and Mon wonders when they went from sparring over politics to this. At what point did the two cross over? Have all of their interactions just been a cover up for what's really going on under her nose, a development she couldn't see because she was too busy trying to protect her secrets?

“For Kriff's sake.” Krennic exclaims, letting go of her and stepping back. “No, all is not forgiven and at some point, we can have a very in depth conversation about all the treasons we've committed against each other but not now.” The last words are almost forceful. Mon nods, finally conceding that point but she's not quite ready for this. This time her thoughts are on Bail and the rebellion. Why she's thinking of her friend when the man in front of her is trying so desperately to have sex with her, she's not sure. But the two are linked. At some point it all became linked. Perrin, Leida, Luthen, the Empire, Bail, Krennic, her. Somehow, they're all intrinsically entwined and she cannot separate them no matter how much she tries, nor can she untangle them. It's almost as though they all need each other. A problem of her own creation. Still, her thoughts are on Bail and the rebellion, on their plans and how some of it is only possible if she manages to avoid ISB attention. For Perrin, for Bail, for Leida and the future she wishes she could give her daughter, for Tay who lost his life to protect the cause, for every single individual in the galaxy who doesn't wish to live under the oppression of the Empire. She can do this. She can sleep with him, have an affair with him, whatever is required to protect the cause. And if she has to sacrifice herself to Krennic for the good of the cause, whilst Bail picks up her mantle, well that's the price she'll pay for the freedom of the galaxy. After all, how many founders of movements live to see it come to fruition and judging by the reactions of her body, it's not like she wouldn't at least enjoy the physical side of it.

As the thoughts swirl around her head, Krennic wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her to him, his other hand grips her chin. And this time, when he lowers his lips to meet hers, she doesn't resist him, doesn't freeze. No, Mon Mothma opens her mouth, grants him access and lets him deepen the kiss. And as she does, something shifts in her as though something is just out of sync. But when his tongue brushes against hers, gentle, almost hesitant at first, and then more demanding, all thoughts but him slip from her mind.

“Mon…” He nips her bottom lip with his own. “Are you sure?” He asks. There's a softness to it. Mon narrows her eyes and studies his face. There's a sincerity and in that moment, Mon understands why he was so offended by her comment about reprisals. He's giving her a choice, she has the power here, he's given her the power. If she were to say no, she doesn't doubt that he'd respect that decision. But she doesn't say no. 

“Yes.” She breathes. A small shot of relief crosses his face as though he thought she'd reject him. That's almost laughable. Deep down they both knew they'd end up here, it was inevitable from the moment he saw her, a vision in silver, at Sculdun’s party. As soon as she says yes, it's like a weight has lifted from her.

“Mon…” He repeats her name, it's heavier this time. “This is your last chance to walk away.” He tells her. “I won't stop, not again.”

“Okay.” Mon breathes.

“I don't think you understand.” He presses his forehead against hers. “If we do this, you're mine and I won't be letting go.” His tone is possessive and it makes Mon's knees weak. His words don't come as a surprise to her, his hints had been enough for her to suspect it and it's one of the reasons she's been holding back on going through with her plan. 

“Orson.” She breathes. “I'm sure.” She forces her voice to remain steady. But she doesn't feel sure. She's terrified of what it will mean. At once, his lips are on hers and a hand is at her back, trying to get her out of her dress. His hands fumbles with the material, struggling to locate the zip. She reaches a hand around her back to his and entwines their fingers together. The skin on skin contact causes Krennic to flinch and Mon gasps. Krennic pulls back from her for a moment, his eyes searching hers. And Mon knows with such clarity that whilst he'd said he wouldn't stop, if she told him to, he would.

“The zip is down the side.” She breathes, her hand guiding his hand under her arm and then she nips his bottom lip. Reassured that she's not changing her mind, Krennic resumes kissing her. Mon keeps her fingers entangled with his as he pulls her zip down. There's something slightly poetic about doing it together. Mon hisses as the zipper catches her bare skin. Krennic stills his hand. Mon gently pushes on it forcing it down further until the zip is undone. Krennic pulls back for a moment, trying to work out how exactly to get her out the dress. Mon raises an eyebrow at him, a silent challenge. Supposedly defeated by the dress, not that he’d ever admit it, Krennic slips one of his hands in the gap created by the now open zip, underneath the silk bodice of the dress. His hand touches bare skin and he smirks as he realises she’s not wearing underwear. Had she been expecting this? Mon rolls her eyes at him. The cut of the bodice and the restriction caused by the underlining makes it impossible to wear anything underneath it. She’s about to say as much when his fingers brush against her breast. It’s more gentle than she would've expected, tender almost and it surprises her. And then he’s playing with her nipple. Mon gasps and her head falls back. Krennic smirks at the sound of it. But he wants to taste her. He pushes the neckline of her dress down, the thick strap, causing all the problems, slips down her shoulder and digs into her upper arm. Mon hisses at the pain of it. But then something else catches her attention. There’s a soft clattering on the floor. Mon’s gaze follows the direction of the noise and laying on the ground, is a long metal chain. She frowns as confusion washes over her and then she realises what it is. Her Hanna Pendant. The force with which he’s pushed her dress down has broken the chain and it lies on the floor in pieces. Mon gasps but this time in shock. A twinge of sadness washes over her at the realisation that it might be broken beyond repair. Perrin had gifted it to her when she was first elected. Perhaps she’ll be able to fix it. But then Krennic’s lips are peppering kisses along the top of her breast. It’s the most he can do, the dress not allowing for anything more. Krennic groans, he feels cheated that he cannot taste more of her. Conceding defeat, he turns his attention to where he can gain access. He places a trail of kisses down her sternum to her stomach over the top of her dress. Despite there being silk between her skin and his lips, Mon can feel it, heat pools between her legs and her body yearns for more. She runs her fingers through his hair, gripping his head tightly. Krennic casts her a glance, a smirk pulling at his lips and then his lips reach her waist. His hands find the hem of her dress and pushes the material up, revealing the pale skin of her thighs. Mon flinches as his fingers brush against her inner thigh. The touch is light and it’s agonising as need crashes through her. She needs more, much more. 

“Orson…” His name falls from her lips, it’s soft, filled with want. He runs his hand over the lace of her underwear and Mon squirms. She’s so wet and Krennic’s fingers can feel just how damp the lace is. He repeats the action and her legs flinch. “Please.” It’s almost a whisper. Krennic smiles at the sound of it. The great Mon Mothma is pleading for him to touch her. It’s a beautiful sound. At once, he grabs her panties and pulls them roughly down her body. The lace is harsh against her skin. A loud gasp tumbles from her mouth as his fingers ghost over her folds, the touch is so light. Mon squirms against it. Krennic chuckles at how much she wants it. For a moment, anger sparks through him at the thought of her denying them both when she's this needy. And he remembers what she'd said about her husband being able to satisfy her. Suddenly the desire to claim her, to ruin her, to prove that he's the only can that can truly satisfy her takes over. He runs his fingers back and forth through her folds more forcefully, lapping up juices, venturing closer and closer to her clit but not quite touching. Mon writhes beneath him, another ‘please’ falling from her lips. Eventually he gives in. He traces light circular movements around the hood with the pad of his finger. It's still not enough for Mon so she arches her back pushing up into his hand. Krennic increases his pressure and speed. She’s writhing under his touch desperate for more. Finally, he touches her clit. He traces patterns across it. Mon’s body is set alight as he plays with her. And then she’s coming. Her breathing shallows and her clit flutters underneath his fingers. But Krennic doesn’t ease his pressure or speed. It’s almost torture but she’s loving it as the waves of pleasure course through her body.

As her spasms slow, Krennic pulls his fingers out of her and lifts them to her mouth.

“Taste yourself.” He breathes into her ear, his breath hot and heavy against her skin. He runs a soaked finger across her bottom lip. Mon slowly opens her mouth and he pushes his fingers inside. Mon moans as the taste of her own juices floods her senses. And then he pulls his fingers out of her mouth, they’re coated in her saliva now and there’s something oddly erotic about it. Krennic drags his fingers down her sternum, her stomach, her pelvis leaving a mark on her dress and then inserts them into her. Mon gasps at the sudden intrusion. But then he’s kneeling before her, his tongue lapping up her juices and his fingers curling inside of her. Mon can feel the tension already pooling in her stomach for a second time as his tongue licks across her swollen clit. She whimpers, crying out for more. Her clit is desperate for more. Instead, he changes the position of his fingers, allowing deeper penetration. A loud moan falls from her lips. It feels so good, she’s so close. Her walls are fluttering against his fingers, cum dripping out of her down her thighs and her legs starting to spasm. Krennic pulls her clit into his mouth, sucking the sensitive nub. Mon’s whole body shakes as the second orgasm crashes through her. His tongue darts out to lap up her juices. Mon closes her eyes for a moment and loses herself in the touch. But then she needs more, she needs him, inside of her. Krennic places a quick kiss to her inner thigh and then rises up, his hands travelling up her body as he does. And then his lips are on hers, his tongue battling hers for dominance as it curls around hers, the taste of her cum lingering. His hand grips her neck, pulling her closer to him. 

Mon fumbles with his belt, her fingers slipping on the clasp. Krennic reaches down with his free hand to help her. It comes loose and then she’s snapping open his white tunic as his hand takes its place back between her legs. Her hands run down the contours of his chest and her nails dig into the skin when his fingers skirt over her clit. Mon moans. Her fingers trace the waistband of his trousers edging close to his erection. Krennic hisses as her smallest finger skims it. And then she’s forcing his trousers and underwear down his legs. Mon’s eyes widen when she sees the size of it. Orson smirks and raises an eyebrow in challenge. Your move . She reaches for it, strokes it from base to tip and then she’s lowering to her knees. Krennic touches her hip stilling her movement.

“Not today Mon.” He breathes wishing he wasn’t stopping her from fulfilling the vision he’d had in the lift but he has to. “I won’t last.” Being inside of her is more important today than her sucking him off. He has to claim her pussy first and he’s not sure he could last if she takes him in her mouth.  Mon stands back up slowly, her legs weak.

Orson lines up his cock at her pussy and gently enters her. She’s so tight around him and he doesn’t want to cause her any pain but he slides in easily, Mon’s slick from her orgasms. He thrusts into her and it's as though every emotion he's felt for her over the last few days is poured into it, into her. All the anger, all the frustration, all the betrayal, all the lust is laid bare for her to see. It's a shock at first, Mon being so used to another man but then her body stretches for him and it's almost like he belongs. A hand wraps around her thigh, lifting her leg up to settle around his waist. Their bodies still joined, Krennic pushes her back against the wall. Mon gasps at the forcefulness of it as her back collides with the stone. If he's noticed, Orson doesn't seem to care. His only focus is the sensation of Mon milking his cock and how he can bring her to another orgasm before he reaches his own climax. He traces a finger across her clit but she flinches and hisses. She's too sensitive there for it to be pleasurable. Instead, he kisses the sensitive spot of her neck. A moan falls from her lips and she arches her back to meet his thrusts. He speeds up his movements becoming more aggressive, his hips slamming into her and his kisses turning more fervent. Mon can feel the tension building, can feel the pressure rising, she's so close but it's not enough. 

“Orson…” Her voice is raspy, almost begging. “More.” He lifts his head from her neck, surprise written across his face. Mon's eyes are glassy, her face flush, her mouth open and it is beautiful. “More.” She repeats, her arms running up and down his back, pulling him closer to her. Her eyes flutter shut. Krennic picks up his speed. Mon meets him thrust for thrust, her walls tightening around him as she chases her orgasm. Her breathy moans spurn him on. She’s close, he can feel it and then he slows his movements. Mon groans in frustration as he pulls out of her so slowly. It’s excruciating as she tries to stop the tension from fading. And then he slams into her. Deeper. Mon whimpers, the force of it painful but then she’s tumbling over the edge of ecstasy as her orgasm crashes through her. Krennic fucks her through it, holding her tightly as her legs shake, his lips tasting every inch of her skin within reach. The sensation of her walls contracting around his cock is enough to bring about his own release. 

“Fuck…” It’s the only word that passes his lips as he finishes inside of her. His teeth bite into her shoulder. Mon winces from the pain, her nails dig into his back.

Krennic stills, his head resting in the crook of her neck, his lips gently kissing along her collar bone. A stillness settles over them. It's enough for Mon's brain to kick back into gear. What has she done? Krennic feels her tense beneath him. He lifts his head. Their eyes meet. Mon's shocked by the lack of smugness in his expression. He doesn't look like someone who's just achieved their biggest conquest. He looks happy . What has she done? There's something in his expression that makes her finally accept that for him, this wasn't just about sex. What has she done? Shame floods through her.

Sensing the shift in her, Krennic leans in to kiss her but Mon turns away and his lips grace her cheek instead. The rejection stings but he's not an idiot, he knows what she's likely to be feeling. She needs to come to terms with what's just happened. He pulls away from her, his eyes never leaving her face and he leans down to reach her underwear. Gently, he manoeuvres it back up her legs, his hands skimming her skin and it flutters beneath his touch. So, her body is still reacting to him even if her mind has closed down for now. He settles the underwear back in place and does up her zip and smoothes out her dress. Mon doesn't stay a word, just stands statuesque. Her brain is suddenly in overdrive. How could she? She's just let him think there's something akin to feelings between them. She's used him and was planning on using him further but he has feelings for her. Her skin crawls as the shame of her actions permeates deep into her bones. And he's looking at her with such gentle eyes. She needs to get out of there. She waits until Krennic is fixing his own clothing, a bit of space between the two of them and then she runs. Krennic calls her back but she ignores him. He tries to not be hurt by it but the rejection stings. He casts a final glance around the corridor, making sure there's no evidence of what just happened. The broken Hanna Pendant lies abandoned on the floor. He reaches down to pick it up, noting how apt it is that such a symbol of who Mon is should be broken when he's just helped her break several others.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

How Mon manages to make it to the landing pad, climb into her speeder, make small talk with her driver, get out of the speeder, walk along the short path to their apartment and then enter the apartment without falling apart, she’ll never know. As the front door closes behind her, she hears Leida and Perrin in the dining room. Leida laughs at something and it makes Mon’s heart twist. It's been a long time since she’s seen Leida genuinely happy, perhaps not since Vel last visited them on Coruscant and that was before Leida’s marriage. Maybe being away from Stekan is good for her. Mon thinks of the ticking time bomb that is her daughter's marriage and for a moment, it offers some reprieve from everything else she’s feeling over what she’s just done. They haven’t spoken about it since she returned from Chandrila and for once Mon is glad that Perrin is the favourite parent. Leida’s desire to protect her image in Perrin’s eyes has meant that Mon hasn’t yet had to shatter Leida’s dream of freedom but she will have to tell her eventually. She catches herself thinking about her own mother, would Tanis Mothma have tried to help if Mon had ever considered divorcing Perrin? That in itself switches her thoughts back to Perrin. Guilt slices through her. Without thinking, she casts a glance in the mirror on the opposite wall. Mon gasps at the sight of her. She’s a mess. She lets out a short laugh as she realises that she left the party in this state. Fortunately, no-one saw her. It would almost be comical if it wasn’t her. And then she spies something in her reflection. Peeking out from under the expensive (most likely ruined) Ghorman silk is the beginnings of a large purple bruise. He’s marked her. Of course he has. She’d thought slapping him would be enough to deter him from leaving any evidence on her body but clearly not. She pulls the neckline of her dress down slightly. There’s more. Mon curses. There can be no denying what’s happened now, her body is littered with the proof. For a moment, her guilt is forgotten as she tries to remember when she and Perrin last had sex. It was days ago, not close enough for her to blame him for the bruises. Kriff. She could kill Krennic. And knowing him, he’s probably done it deliberately. He did say “you’re mine” and the marks on her body suggest he was laying claim to her. Why didn’t she put a stop to it? Perhaps because something about his words and his possessiveness had been almost intoxicating and if she’d been thinking straight she would’ve stopped it. But that’s the problem, the moment she chose to give in, and it was a choice, she’d lost the ability to think about anything but what he was doing to her body and how much she wanted it. And the ability to think straight had only returned to her once he’d finished and she saw the look on his face. Oh that look may haunt her for the rest of her life. He looked like a man in love. And she’d run. She just left him standing there because of the shame and guilt she’d felt at using him. When she’d first started this stupid plan the day after Sculdun’s party, she’d never expected it to become this complicated. Krennic was supposed to desire her, to want her as a conquest of his and Mon was supposed to lean into that and use it to her advantage. Neither of them were supposed to have feelings and certainly not this early on. How on earth does she untangle this? How can she go through with this now knowing that? And yet what choice does she have? Krennic told her that she wouldn’t be able to walk away from him, that he wouldn’t let her walk away. What would that mean? What would he do if she tried? That thought chills her. Would he turn his attention to Perrin and try to remove the obstacle that Perrin poses? That can never be a possibility. She has to go through with this. Mon closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as she acknowledges that by doing this, by using Krennic’s feelings for her against him, she will lose a part of herself. She takes a moment and then she adds it to the things she’s lost for the cause since Palpatine created the Empire. 

Then her thoughts turn back to Krennic and how she’d just left him standing there. That would have hurt him but she couldn’t think of anything but her own feelings in that moment, in truth, her own disgust at what she’d done. How could she remain there when she’d just used him in that way? She’d just let him think that there was something between them when she’d fucked him for anything but whatever is between them and there he was looking at her as if they’d just started something magical. The guilt was eating away at her and she had to leave. But her selfish actions will have hurt him, again. She seems to be getting good at hurting him without trying or without even considering him. He was right, they do need to have an adult conversation and part of that will have to be Mon apologising to him for such a brutal rejection. But that will be something for her to do tomorrow. Tonight, she needs to sort her own head out, her own emotions and try to hold her marriage together despite just destroying her vows. 

“Mon… is that you?” Perrin's voice calls out to her. Strangely, it surprises her. 

“Yes.” Her voice sounds weak.

“How was the ceremony?” He asks, tentatively, probably worrying that she will start a tirade on the Empire but Mon decides not to go down that road, not when she’s got to hide such a huge secret from him.

“As expected.” Is her answer.

“I think we’re going to find a holodrama to watch, if you feel like joining.” There’s a hopefulness to Perrin’s words. And Mon knows that she should join them, should help let the rift in their family heal somewhat.

“I’ll just get changed first.” She offers by way of a compromise. She cannot go into the dining room in this state. Perrin would know instantly that she’s cheated on him. That is a secret she will keep as long as she can, take it to her grave if she’s afforded the opportunity. 

“If you’re longer than 5 minutes, you’ll miss the start.” Leida tells her, Mon lets out a short laugh, more for show than anything else. There’s a lightness to Leida that she hasn’t seen in some years and Mon smiles. At least she can give her daughter this moment of happiness before she tells her that there’s no escape from her marriage.

“You can start without me.” Mon responds, trying to keep her voice light so as not to give anything away. She waits a moment for either to respond. They don’t. Leida says something to Perrin and Mon hears him reply but she’s too far away to hear the words either says. No longer part of their conversation, Mon heads upstairs to her bathroom, passing through her and Perrin’s bedroom. She grabs a change of clothes on her way, intending to strip off the dress (and probably discard it) and with it, any trace of what she’s just done. 

Once in the bathroom, with the door securely locked behind her, and the shower water running, Mon removes her dress and then stands in front of the full length mirror. She’s not entirely sure what compels her to do it but regrets it almost immediately. She thought Krennic had left a lot of marks but she had no idea, just how many. Mon gasps. She looks like she’s been attacked, there’s that many marks on her body. Her gaze follows the trail of them, each one eliciting a specific memory of him placing them on her skin. Mon rolls her head back, her fingers gently brush down her neck, over her chest and down her stomach to the small mark on her inner thigh. For a moment, she loses herself in the memory of his touch. For a moment, she lets herself forget that she’s married, that she’s helping fund the rebellion, that she and Bail are planning to lead the fight against Emperor Palpatine. For a moment, she discards all of her roles, all of her labels and allows herself to simply be a woman. Krennic did things to her, made her feel things that Perrin's never been able to, made her forget herself and the deepest, darkest parts of herself, parts that she keeps hidden, enjoyed every moment of it and wants more. 

Mon steps into the shower, allows the scalding water to pour over her body, washing away any temporary evidence of her indiscretion, washing away his touch. When she’s done, she emerges as her old self, free from the chains of her sins, at least for the night, and she slips her mask back into place as she dresses and then joins her daughter and husband in the living room. For a few hours, she’s able to forget everything and enjoy spending time with Leida and Perrin, without any cutting remarks or arguments. But lingering at the back of her mind like a dark shadow is what she’s done, what will come next and the question of how big the fallout could be.

One of those questions is answered later that night, once Leida is in bed and Perrin and Mon have retired to their bedroom. He’s already underneath the duvet when she exits the bathroom after brushing her teeth. Perrin pulls the covers back for her. Mon sits on her side of the bed applying lotion to her arms, neck and along her collarbone, in the hopes it will help with some of the bruises. She’s opted for the least revealing nightgown she owns to try and hide them from Perrin. She feels his eyes on her as she massages the lotion into her arm. Then, once she’s done and the lotion is placed on her bedside table, Perrin places his hands on her waist and kisses her hair before moving it out of the way to kiss her neck. 

“Perrin…” She keeps her voice light. “Do you mind if we don’t tonight?” But Perrin’s fingers have already slipped under her nightgown, pushing the material off her shoulder. Mon closes her eyes and waits for the moment that it all comes crashing down around her, the moment their hard won peace shatters. But it doesn’t come.

“Oh Kriff, Mon. I had no idea. I didn’t realise… you don’t normally bruise that easily.” There’s a sincerity to his voice. Mon’s eyes fly open. Perrin is gazing at her, a softness to his expression. Guilt pools in her stomach. Does she tell him the truth? Does she let him take responsibility for something he hasn’t done? Could she? Does she add it to the long list of her transgressions?

“Why didn’t you say anything about it?”

“It’s fine.” She tries to placate him, tries to move the conversation on, tries not to be put in a situation where she has to lie. “It looks worse than it is.” Mon adds. She doesn’t want to lie to him but nor does she want to hurt him; she doesn’t know how he will react if he were to ever find out about her and Krennic. He’d never lashed out over the rumours of her and Tay Kolma but there had never been any truth in those and he always knew it. He just liked to occasionally weaponise the rumours against her and that was a result of jealousy. Perrin never quite forgave Tay for having Mon first. Oh, Perrin had been her first lover but there are other firsts that Tay ‘stole’ from Perrin and that was where the animosity started. But none of that gives any clues as to how he will react if he finds out about Krennic. That’s something else she needs to talk to him about during their “adult” conversation.

Perrin runs his finger over one of the bruises. Mon tries not to flinch as a sharp pain shoots through her body. “You know…” Perrin says, his voice heavy with desire. “It’s quite sexy knowing you’re covered in my marks.” The comment makes Mon’s stomach twist. An overwhelming wave of nausea washes over her. She will have to warn Krennic against leaving marks on her, she cannot go through this every time they’re intimate. And Perrin cannot find out.

“Alas… you’re covered in enough for tonight.” Perrin concludes, he brushes a kiss against her lips, and moves his fingers out from under her nightgown. He lies down on his side of the bed and pats the covers for her to join him. Mon takes a moment to collect herself and allow herself to feel some relief that Perrin didn’t find out the truth and then she too lies down, reaching over to turn off the light. Perrin wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her to him. She can feel his breath against her skin as he drifts off to sleep. Mon, on the other hand, barely sleeps. From Perrin to Krennic, there’s too much going on in her head. And when she does finally drift off, she has horrible dreams of Perrin walking in on her and Krennic, which given that they did it in a corridor, isn’t too unrealistic and of Krennic making it public against her wishes but the one that stops her from returning to sleep after it wakes her up is the one in which she dreams of the consequences of her and Krennic starting a relationship and he makes her complicit in all of his schemes and warmongering. Mon doesn’t allow herself to think about what that means or whether that could be a possibility. The thought is too terrifying. Instead, she welcomes thoughts on what happens next, how she fixes things with Krennic to enable her plan to work and how she protects Perrin, without him finding out about any of it.

The first thing Mon does when she gets to her office the following morning is reach out to Krennic’s office. She keeps it professional, just in case there’s a paper trail of the conversation and asks for a meeting to discuss his recent funding application. That should at least get the attention of his staff and if they’re anything like Erskin, they’ll schedule the meeting and tell him about it after it’s scheduled and cancel it if he doesn’t want to take the meeting. It’s not until she’s sent the request that she realises he could actually cancel it. And after she walked away, just leaving him there after their first time, him cancelling their meeting wouldn’t be completely unreasonable. She hopes he doesn’t. She doesn’t have a plan b for fixing this if she’s unintentionally damaged their ‘relationship’ by fleeing from him. 

By mid morning, she still hasn’t received a response from his office. Mon tries to brush it off as him being busy with other things but as the hours draw on and the silence gets louder, concern sets in. The last email she’d sent had resulted in him returning to Coruscant in less than 24 hours. Surely he isn’t too busy to respond to an email? He doesn’t even have to reply, a staffer could reply. Unless he’s off world, it’s highly unlikely that the email wouldn’t have been brought to his attention and that means he’s ignoring it, he’s choosing not to reply to her. At that realisation, Mon’s thoughts spiral into a cycle of has she ruined everything… what does she do now… how does she fix it… can she fix it? Of those, the one that lingers longer is the one about what she does next. If he’s ignoring her email, how does she reach out to even attempt to fix things between them? What if she can’t fix it? What does that mean for her and Bail and their plan? So much was hinging on Krennic providing some protection and a relationship with him offering her some reprieve from ISB surveillance. Can they continue without that? What if the risk is too great? And what about the other issue? The one she’s not yet ready to admit but at least acknowledges its presence? After what they did yesterday, she cannot pretend it doesn’t exist anymore. What happens now? She cannot answer that. The realisation that she doesn’t know how to fix it or even if she can fix it hits her with a force so immense, it shocks her. She’s Mon Mothma, she always has a plan b, always has some trick up her sleeve, some solution to fix the problem. But this, she doesn’t have. The shock quickly dissolves into regret and then guilt. It sits heavy in her stomach and she doesn’t know what to do with it. All she knows is that she has to speak to him, she has to apologise for running, has to explain why she did it. She’s going to have to give the performance of her life to convince him that she wants him, that she wants some sort of relationship with him. Mon decides to give him a few days for the sting of her rejection to dull somewhat and then she’ll reach out to him, privately this time, and start the process of fixing things with him. 

Something about the Senate is suffocating that day, perhaps it’s because there’s a debate going on about whether to take action against the insurgency in the Lothal Sector. The debate is just for show, the decision has already been made and Mon is intentionally missing the debate to make a point but the live streaming of it is showing on the screen in her office. She’d put it on earlier to catch some of the points made by senators who still care about representing their people and not about political gain. But in the last few hours, the speeches have become about point scoring and puffing up Palpatine and it’s starting to irritate her. She gives it another ten minutes, replying to an email and then packs up her belongings and heads home for the day. She’ll continue her work from home, away from the claustrophobia of the Senate. 

Mon's been back about two hours when the blissful silence of her home office is interrupted by Perrin. Strangely, being home has enabled her to do more than being in the Senate all morning and has kept her mind off other things.

“Mon… you’re still wearing the champagne dress, right?” Perrin asks, lingering in the doorway to her office.

“For?” She looks up from the report she’s reading.

“Tonight.” Mon frowns. Tonight? What’s happening tonight? She quickly lists possible options in her head but comes up short. “The embassy gala.” Perrin offers. Kriff, she’d completely forgotten about it with the stress of the past few days. “Don’t tell me you forgot? It’s for your own bloody foundation.” Disbelief is etched into his words, it’s a tone she’s very familiar with. 

“Not as such…” The lie slips so easily from her mouth and she hates herself for doing it. It’s only small but she adds it to the list of others she’s told, a list that is quickly growing in size. “I thought it was tomorrow.” She frowns, trying to make it believable.

“I put it on the schedule.” Perrin’s voice is more taut. Mon stands from her chair and walks around her desk, so that she’s standing in front of him.

“I know…” She offers him a soft smile. “This one’s on me. Everything’s so hectic, I don’t even know what day it is.” That isn’t entirely untrue.

“You work too hard.” He tells her, not for the first time in their marriage. Mon casts a quick glance at the chrono on the wall. She’s got an hour. 

“I’ll go change.” She says, heading towards the door and ignoring the comment. It reminds her too much of the early years of the Empire, when they barely spent time with one another and it led to many heated arguments. Perrin liked to end them in bed but it made her feel hollow, as though they hadn’t resolved anything, just buried it under the sheets and that then led to the later resentment they both felt for one another. But that resentment has gone, at least for now, there’s no telling what would happen if Perrin found out about her and Krennic. And that turns her attention to the other man in her life. The man, who despite all odds, seems to have feelings for her. Shame crashes through her at that thought. She doesn’t quite recognise herself anymore.

“The champagne?” Perrin repeats.

“Yes.” She smiles. The dress had been chosen months ago, once the date had been set, long before she crossed into Krennic’s orbit and failed to get out of his gravitational pull. The colour reminds her of their connection to champagne. She immediately pushes that thought out of her head. “Actually Perrin, I’m going to wear the blue.” A smirk pulls at his lips, he prefers her in the blue, it’s more revealing but not so revealing that Krennic’s bruises will be visible. 

Perrin matches his outfit to hers, as expected, and he looks quite dashing in his official Chandrilan dress robes. Together, Mon notes as they pass the mirror in the hallway on their way out of the apartment, they look quite the power couple. The thought leaves her feeling uneasy and she wishes she hadn’t thought it, not when she's betrayed him and is planning on doing it again, if she ever hears back from Krennic. The mention of betrayal reminds her of when he'd accused her of it for refusing his funding. The accusation had stung more than she'd expected. Perhaps she'll add it to the list of things they need to talk about when he’s finally acknowledging her existence again. Downplaying it with sarcasm is the coping mechanism that allows her to dissociate from the rollercoaster of emotions that she’s been feeling since they’d had sex. Allowing herself to feel any of those emotions is too dangerous, particularly when she has to spend the night playing hostess. But the one that she is struggling to brush off is the despondency at not hearing back from him or his office about a meeting. She’d thought she was being clever by contacting his office and keeping the tone professional, had thought that even if he was hurt by her actions last night, he would be tempted to meet if he thought she might be changing her view on his funding application. Instead, she was met with silence and the silence is worrying, it suggests she’s caused more damage than she realised. But she cannot think of that tonight, not when she’s trying to raise more money for the “foundation”. If her and Bail’s plans come to fruition, this may be the last opportunity she has to raise money for the rebellion and so she needs to be on top form tonight. 

The Chandrilan Embassy is brimming with guests when she and Perrin arrive, some of them friends, some allies and some she had to invite to avoid raising suspicions. Perrin’s hand is resting against the small of her back as they step through the doors she knows so well. Despite being so familiar, the touch feels alien to her, as though it shouldn’t be there and someone else’s should be there. Mon pushes that thought out of her mind. She has to stop comparing the two. For a moment, she’s taken back by Perrin’s efforts in decorating the Embassy for the evening; he’s outdone himself and it makes her smile. She’s always been able to rely on him to support her career, even when they were at odds personally. And that never wavering support, that love for her even when he wasn’t in love with her is one of the things that makes what she’s done so unforgivable. Mon ponders it as Perrin greets one of their acquaintances and is dragged away to the bar. She laughs as he tries to resist. It’s an act, of course, but she laughs all the same. She gives it a moment and then she steps into the role of hostess, greeting guests, drinking champagne, engaging in conversations, trying to convince people to support her “outreach programme”. She plays the role so well, has been playing it since she and Bail and Saw Gerrera decided they would not simply accept the Empire but would resist and eventually fight back when the time was right.

Mon’s standing by the bar, waiting for another drink, surveying her kingdom and making a note of how many Imperials are in attendance when she catches sight of a very familiar white uniform. She’s surprised to see him, perhaps she’s already forgiven and he just hasn’t had the time to reach out to her. Something unfamiliar curls in her stomach as her eyes land on him. Her mind runs through images of his mouth on her, his fingers inside of her and she feels the ghost of his touch on her. Kriff! If once is enough to do that to her, what will it be like when their affair actually starts. She doesn’t doubt that it will anymore. Krennic said himself that if they crossed that line, there would be no going back, he wouldn’t let her go and not only did they cross the line but they eviscerated it. It’s only a matter of time, and perhaps a clearing of the air. And maybe, the next time, it won’t be in public. But then she sees something that makes her blood run cold before spiking to boiling hot. There’s a woman with Krennic. At first, she thinks nothing of it, it is a party after all. But then Krennic places a hand on the small of the woman’s back. He’s used that move on her so many times but clearly, it’s just that, a move. Who is she and why is Krennic standing so closely to her, touching her intimately? Only yesterday he’d fucked her, told her that he wouldn’t let her go, and that look of happiness on his face as though he’d just made love to the woman he had feelings for. The guilt Mon had felt at using him the way she had, of planning to use him even more to protect her secrets when he felt something for her. What a fool she’s been! She’s just another conquest to him. The whole thing has been a ruse, a game to get her into bed with him and she fell for it. She's not sure which is stronger, her humiliation at being stupid enough to fall for it or her anger at him, but both are burning more intensely than the suns on Tatooine. Krennic says something to the woman, whoever she is, and she laughs. A tight knot forms in Mon's stomach and her mouth dries. How could he do this to her? This is worse than his pursuing her, worse than his accusing her of betrayal, worse than giving her the cold shoulder. She's given up so much of herself to him, she’s broken her marriage vows, betrayed Perrin, betrayed herself and the very next evening he's flirting with another woman, making another woman laugh as though what they shared meant nothing. Tears prick at Mon's eyes and her lip wavers as she tries to stop them from falling. Her eyes sting as she tries to keep them in and she blinks but instead of helping, one of them falls down her cheek. Her hand shoots up to wipe it away. It's in that moment that Mon realises she needs to leave the room; she’s not going to be able to stop them and if she doesn't want to cry in front of her many guests, she needs to go somewhere private.

The nearest place is the public bathroom, not as private as she would like but better than the receiving room. She enters one of the cubicles, locking the door behind her and takes a deep inhale of breath, trying to calm down. But it fails. Her anger at him has cooled to fury. How dare he treat her like that? How dare he do that to her and then show up at her event, rubbing salt into the wound! Mon focuses on her breathing, allows it to slow to normal pace and with it, her temper wanes.

Finally composed again, neutral mask back in place, Mon steps out of the cubicle. The very woman in question is standing by the mirrors. Mon passes her on her way to the sinks and smiles at her, though it's killing her to do it. She can't really hold any ill will against the woman, Krennic's to blame, after all. But as she catches the woman's reflection in the mirrors, an idea forms in her mind. If Krennic wants to play games, she'll try damn hard to win.

“I admire your courage.” Mon tells her with a smile as she washes her hands. The woman frowns. “Not caring about the rumours and gossips.” The woman shakes her head. “Ohh, I thought you knew about Director Krennic.”

“Knew what?”

“That he prefers the company of men.” It's spiteful, she knows and she's not entirely sure why she does it but she cannot stop herself from ruining his chances with her replacement. The woman opens her mouth to speak but no words come out, she just stands there opening and closing her mouth, her eyes wide. 

“Worst kept secret in Coruscant.” Mon adds, her tone blazé as she watches the woman's reflection in the mirror. She touches up her makeup, reapplying her lipstick, pretending to not care about the woman’s reaction but she does care. “Some women don't mind, of course. You're not the first he's brought to an event like this.” 

And then Mon goes back to checking her own reflection. Satisfied by her own appearance, she turns towards the door, offering the woman a reassuring smile and leaves the bathroom. Mon heads straight for the bar. There’s a group of senators congregating at the bar, deliberating which of the traditional Chandrilan drinks they might be tempted to try. Mon stands off to the side whilst they make their choices, watching with curiosity and then once they’ve placed their orders and received their drinks, she steps up to the bar. She’s planning on requesting another glass of champagne but then she catches sight of the jar of squigs, a regular at events like tonight, and something causes her to change her mind. Instead of champagne, she asks the bartender for a Chandrilan Squig and scrunches her nose up when he drops the eel into the glass and the liquid fizzes. She takes the glass from him, raises it to her lips, preparing for the vile taste, and takes a sip. The liquid burns as it hits her taste buds. They’re worse than she’d remembered and she regrets ordering it but she refuses to be defeated by the small ugly creatures and takes another drink. It’s better than the first but still not tolerable.

“You're having squigs?” Perrin asks her, joining her by the bar.

“Just one.” Mon corrects, taking a sip of the fizzing liquid, her gaze directed at the scene unfolding on the far left of the receiving room. In front of the large window, a dumbfounded Krennic blinks at the woman in front of him. He's not entirely sure he's heard her accusation correctly. He can't have, surely? 

“Do you do this often?” Myria hurls the question at him. “Use women at events like these to cover up your secret?” No, he's heard her accusation correctly. “For the record, you have nothing to be ashamed about but don't pretend to be interested in women when you're clearly into men.” It's perhaps the first time in his life he's ever been stunned into silence. He genuinely doesn't know how to respond. Where the hell did she get that information from?

“I'm not…” He starts to respond but she's already walking away. Krennic senses someone's gaze on him. He turns. Mon. Yet again, she captivates his attention. She's in blue tonight, lighter than her senatorial wear and he likes the colour on her, it's not one he sees her in often. A smirk pulls at his lips, just thinking about all of the things he could do to her if he could get her out of that dress. Her expression is unreadable, almost hard. She raises her glass to him, a smirk graces her face but it's more menacing than his. And then it drops. The little scene with Myria was down to her. Krennic’s smirk widens. His senator is jealous that he's brought another woman to her gala. Oh the fun he could have with that piece of knowledge. Clearly, she’s over the guilt she was feeling yesterday and if she is, that means round two is a possibility, he just needs to tease her a bit. And he's going to do exactly that.

Mon's talking to Bail when she feels the brush of his hand against her back. She stiffens. How dare he! 

“Jealous darling?” He whispers low in her ear as he passes by her. It's teasing but quiet enough that no-one else hears it. She glares at him, it's glacial. Krennic narrows his eyes. Perhaps calling her jealous was an understatement. Krennic watches her for a moment, curiosity getting the better of him. She's ignoring him, her expression icy and her demeanor stiff. This is a different side to her, one that's almost fascinating. Oh what he wouldn't give to thaw the ice but he can't, they're in public, well not completely. He leaves her be for now, locating an acquaintance and striking up a conversation away from Mon.

About an hour later, by pure chance, Krennic ends up in a conversation with Belcoze and they're standing next to where Mon is talking to Kleya. She's so close to him he could reach for her without much effort. But he doesn't. Instead, he angles himself so that his hand is almost touching hers. His finger brushes against hers and she flinches. Krennic smirks. He's going to drive her crazy with small, barely there touches. But then suddenly, she's ending her conversation and walking away. Krennic sees it as a challenge, one that he intends to win.

The feel of Krennic’s fingers brushing against her hand, barely touching her, sets her body alight. He’s so close to her and her body is yearning for him. How can her body be reacting to him when she’s so annoyed at him? How dare he seduce her, fuck her, ignore her, attend her event with someone else and tease her like that. This isn’t a game. This is her life, a life she’s risked for him and within 24 hours, he’s discarded and replaced her. Anger simmers in her blood and she feels the urge to snap at him rising in her but then Kleya makes a joke and Mon laughs. It’s not enough to temper her anger, the only thing that will, other than confronting him, is removing herself from his presence. So, she ends her conversation with Kleya and navigates around the room to find someone else to speak to. Krennic tracks her movements as she does, his eyes narrowed in curiosity. A smirk pulls at his lips as she settles on starting a conversation with someone at the opposite end of the room, he thinks, judging by their dress, that they are Chandrilan. Interesting. What Mon hasn’t realised in her attempt to get away from him is that she’s standing near to Sly Moore, a guest of her husband, he presumes. Krennic waits a while, continuing his discussion with Belcoze and then makes a beeline for Moore. To reach Sly, he has to pass Mon. This time, he runs his fingers across her upper back and shoulder blades. The dress she’s wearing has a very low back, affording him the opportunity to touch her bare skin. He feels her muscles flutter beneath his fingers and he smiles. Oh her body responds so beautifully to him. At his touch, Mon turns in his direction, she glares at him. There’s no heat in it, it’s glacial. Mon turns back to her conversation. Krennic pauses for a moment. Whilst he’s enjoying her jealousy, his baiting of her seems to be making things worse. He decides to stop his games. After weeks of chasing her and encouraging her to accept the inevitable, they’ve finally made some progress and he will not risk that progress, not when it was so beautiful and the promise of more to come, even more so. He leaves her alone for the rest of the evening but his eyes still track her movements; he can’t not when she looks so ravishing. 

On the whole, it’s quite a successful night for Mon and the Foundation but by the time she and Perrin finally make it to bed, Mon is exhausted.

After another night of interrupted sleep, Mon wakes early and heads to the Senate early. She's expecting a report from Partagaz on security threats in the Outer Rim and why they'd benefit from using a stronger hand to deal with the issue. It'll be another bogus report, not quite on Krennic’s level, but pointless all the same and she's carved out a large part of her day to read it, before she attends a committee meeting. Dasi has asked her to fill in for him on the Transportation committee. He has to return to Ghorman at the request of the former governor, who's concerned about the increased Imperial interference on the planet. Mon doesn't mind filling in for him, even at short notice. The issue is that when she dressed that morning, she had to choose something other than her usual Senate clothing as the heavy material was irritating a few of the bruises. She opted for short sleeves but that has exposed the large purple bruise on her wrist, which wouldn't be a concern if she were to spend all day in the privacy of her office.  

When Dasi had asked Mon to cover the Transportation Committee hearing on his behalf, she'd expected it to be rather dull. She’d served on it during the Clone Wars, back when it had a purpose, but, like many of the senatorial committees, it was stripped of most of its powers by Palpatine and its remaining powers are not exercised the way they should be because the members generally don’t care. Mon watches with curiosity as the first witness, a low ranking member of the Imperial Officer Corps, testifies and sees the similarities between Dasi’s committee and her committee. Hers, of course, is the more senior of the two but she sees the same failures and flaws on Dasi’s as there are on the Oversight Committee and wonders what role he plays. Does he take on the role she does, trying to be the moral compass of the committee, trying to steer it to the do the right thing and make the right decisions, does he try to stem the tide, the way Bail often does or does he go along with the sycophants and do the bidding of Palpatine and the Empire? Then she wonders if all of the Senatorial Committees are like this. She takes minutes as Dasi requested, not really paying attention or forming an opinion until the topic turns to Ghorman itself. It surprises her that they would discuss Ghorman when the senator for Ghorman sits on the Committee. 

“If you're not transporting anything from Ghorman, why do you need control of the shipping lane?” Senator Aang asks. Mon watches the Imperial Officer squirm. She can see the unease etched into his features, the sweat forming on his brow. Whoever this idiot is, clearly no-one bothered to prepare him for this interrogation. 

“To control what's coming into Ghorman.” The lie is just barely passable but Mon knows where the direction of the conversation is headed. “We have to stop the insurgents bringing weapons in.” And there it is. She can taste the retort on her tongue but she doesn't speak it, just purses her lips. This isn't her committee, she's only filling in for Dasi so that he gets a full report on the session. She waits with bated breath for the follow up question to be asked, looks at each senator in turn trying to determine who would ask it. But the question never comes. Not a single senator in the room asks why, if the Empire is worried about weapons being shipped into Ghorman, they don't want control of all the shipping lanes. Mon shouldn't be surprised by it really, perhaps she is because she doesn't often sit on the Transportation committee or perhaps it's because their actions go beyond complacency to complicity.

The rest of the session passes in much the same way, each witness testifies, is asked relatively low ball questions and the follow up is never asked. Mon finds herself screaming inside. It would be so easy to extract the information, to catch them in their lies but no-one is prepared to do it. All it does is solidify her belief that her and Bail have exhausted their options in the Senate and the time to fight back is coming. She’s been so caught up in whatever is going on with Krennic that she and Bail haven’t really had the time to talk about the next steps or to figure out what needs to be done. That will need to be rectified once she’s got the mental capacity to deal with it. 

When she returns to her offices later that afternoon, Erskin looks panic stricken. Mon frowns at him and her aide tilts his head towards the figure sitting on the large chaise longue in front of the window. Mon was too engaged in Partagaz’ report to notice Krennic when she first walked in. What does he want? Surely he doesn't think they can pick up where they left off after his stunt the previous evening? The very idea fills her with rage. Mon forces herself to take a breath, cooling her temper.

“Director Krennic.” She says, walking in the direction of her inner office. “Come in.” She doesn't give him the option to respond, entering her office, and taking a seat at her desk. Krennic follows her without saying a word. He pulls the door shut behind him.

“Director Krennic.” Mon repeats gesturing for him to sit down.

“Mon, stop using my title when we're alone, I've been inside you for Kriff's sake.”

“What do you want?”

“And the Ice Queen returns. Should we see how long it takes for you to melt with my hands running all over your body? Or we could have an adult conversation and discuss the things that need to be discussed?” There's an irritable sarcasm to his words.

“What makes you think I would let you?”

“Do we really have to go through this again, my dear?” Krennic sighs. “As much as I enjoy sparring with you, I’d rather do it over more interesting things.”

“More interesting?”

“Yes. After much deliberation, the matter of whether or not you want me was determined the moment you let me fuck you.” Mon doesn’t have a response to that. Krennic smirks, enjoying the moment he’s rendered her speechless. “So, shall we discuss what this is really about? And then we can address the long list of other topics that require our attention.”

“Do tell what this is really about… you’ve lost me.” Krennic laughs at her response.

“A little emotion called jealousy.”

“Jealousy?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Yes… my attendance at your event last night with another woman.”

“Ah, yes… jealousy. Do I strike you as the type to get jealous? After all, I am the Ice Queen .” Her tone is mocking.

Krennic tuts. “Perhaps it wasn’t jealousy.” He concedes. “But you weren’t happy about it.” 

“Actually, I was being a good samaritan.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I was stopping another woman from giving herself to you on false promises only for her to discover she was just another of your many conquests.”

Krennic frowns. “I’m not following…” And then recognition washes over his features. “You thought… you thought that she and I were… that I was going to sleep with her?”

“Your closeness to her seemed to imply you were planning something.” She knows as soon as she says it that she's overplayed her hand but given the distance between them, perhaps it's not such a bad thing.

“Now it all makes sense. You were angry because you thought I’d used you.” Even Mon is impressed at how she’s managed to turn the situation into one where she is the victim. Krennic stands up and walks around her desk, dropping a small box onto the wood. Mon pays it no attention, instead focusing on how close he is to her, and how fast her heart is racing as he invades her personal space. Krennic reaches out to grip her chin softly and tilts her face up to look at his. 

“Mon…” He breathes. “You are and will always be so much more than just a conquest, I told you that once before. I would never have sex with you and then invite another woman into my bed the following evening.” He pauses, searching her face for any signs that she believes him. “There’s been no-one else since the night I saw you at Sculdun’s party and was reminded of how much I want you… not as an achievement or a conquest but as mine .”

“Yours?” She breathes.

“Yes. And to prove it, why don’t you open the box?” He tilts his head towards the velvet box, sitting on her desk.

“What is this?”

“A gift.” She's instantly skeptical.

“Why?”

“Open it.” 

“Mon, I want to shower you with gifts and some day you might just let me but this is an apology.” Mon carefully undoes the clasp and opens the box. Inside is a Hanna Pendant, not unsimilar to the one Perrin gave her (and Krennic broke), the chain is thicker, the emblem of Chandrila more intricately carved but a Hanna Pendant all the same.

“Knowing that everytime you make a speech in the Senate, you'll be wearing my necklace does unspeakable things to me.” He smirks as desire runs hot through him. “But that's not what this is about. I broke yours, this is a replacement and my way of saying sorry for not taking more care with it or with you, judging by the bruises I can see.” He points towards her wrist.

“But… you would have had to purchase it on Chandrila.” Mon ignores the other parts of his comment.

“I did, that's why I didn't see you the morning after, or reply to your email and it's why I was late to your event.” Krennic shrugs as if it’s nothing. 

The implications of that sit heavy between them, Mon lets them linger as she tries to process what she's just been told. He travelled all the way to Chandrila just to buy her a new one. Mon swallows. Her eyes trace his face, read the softness in his own expression and what she sees terrifies her. There can be no denying it. The monster loves her. And the worst part of all is that it doesn't disgust her the way it should. And that perhaps terrifies her more than someone capable of terrible things caring about her.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12 Part 2

Krennic watches Mon, his eyes studying her. There’s a moment where her expression softens and her demeanour changes, the moment where he thinks he might finally have pulled down her walls. Her mouth opens slightly, as though she wants to say something but she doesn’t quite know what to say. The image of her using her mouth to do something else entirely flashes in his mind but he quickly discards it. Mon’s eyes flick down to the box still in her hands. She traces the intricate carving of the pendant with her index finger. Krennic resists the urge to smirk. He’s rendered her speechless.

“Do you believe me yet?”

“No. I can’t be bought.” Krennic narrows his eyes at that, unsure of her meaning. She holds the box to him but he refuses to take it from her. He notices the bruising on her wrist for the second time but this time, he allows himself to pay attention to it. The dark purple stands out against her pale skin and knowing his mouth did that to her stirs something in him but then he registers how dark the bruise is and wonders if it hurts. He did that. And then he understands her remark.

“Mon, I’m not trying to buy you. It’s a replacement for the one I broke. It’s got nothing to do with us finally having sex or the bruises… it’s simply an apology because I broke yours.”

Mon still doesn’t believe him, her brain is struggling to keep up with the revelation that this man no longer makes her skin crawl. “It’s not an apology for last night?”

She's struggling to navigate the fine line between all of her emotions, struggling to decide at what point she “lets him off the hook”, struggling to decide at what point she lets them move past whatever this is to explore what could be between them. She's accepted that she has to if any of her plans are to work but the question is when. It would be so easy to just give in to the desire she has for him; she's given up denying it; but she can't give in, not yet. She doesn’t know what it is he actually wants. She needs to be sure of the foundations before she does, needs to be sure that she's not going to be a casual mistress expected to just accept it when he's with other women, she’s not risking her marriage for that.

“Apology?” Krennic frowns, what did he do that would warrant an apology?

“Your date.” Mon retorts. A smirk pulls at the corner of Krennic’s lips. He hadn’t expected her to be so affected by it.

“I’m flattered.” He smiles, tilting his head. “I wouldn’t have thought you were the jealous type but then I suppose your husband isn’t worth getting jealous over.”

“I’m not jealous.” And she isn't, not really.

“No.” He doesn't believe her.

“I was insulted.”

“Why?”

“You fuck…” Krennic flinches at her use of the word. “Me in a corridor, tell me that I’m yours and you won’t let me go and then twenty four hours later, you’re attending my event in my embassy with another woman.”

“You attended with your husband…” He points out.

“That’s different.”

“You’re right. My marital status or lack thereof, means I don’t have the luxury of attending certain events without a date.” At that, Mon frowns. “My status within the Empire demands certain things from me, so from time to time, to keep up appearances, I attend events with women whose loyalty to the Emperor cannot be doubted. In the past, I may have invited them home with me…” There’s an odd sincerity to his words that catches Mon off guard. 

“But as I said, there’s been no-one since Sculdun’s party and definitely not last night.” He pauses for a moment to let it sink in. 

“So no, Mon it’s not an apology gift for spending time with another woman, I wouldn’t attempt to buy you like that.” His gaze meets hers. “And…” His tone is teasing now, “after your little stunt last night, I think we’re even on that score.” Mon smirks.

“You should know that unless you’re prepared to be my date at the next event, I will have to attend with another woman on my arm to kill the rumours you started last night.” Mon doesn’t respond, just lets the words hang heavy between them. They both know she can’t but she refuses to speak the words, she’s supposed to be protecting Perrin not putting him on Krennic’s radar.

“Stand up.” He tells her. Mon narrows her eyes but does as he says. He takes the box from her and lifts the Hanna Pendant out from the plush velvet cushion, throwing the box back onto her desk. One hand reaches out to her waist. Mon closes her eyes, reminded of the last time he’d touched her there. He gently pulls her towards him before pinning one side of the pendant to her dress. The other side, he slips beneath the top layer of her dress and pins it in place. He admires how it looks for a moment and then he cups her chin and brushes his lips against hers. It startles Mon and her eyes shoot open. 

“My senator…” Mon’s stomach flutters. “Is all forgiven?” She nods. “Good,” His lips are close to her ear now. “And for the record Mon, I quite like the idea of you being jealous. Anytime you’re feeling it in the future, I’d be more than happy to demonstrate precisely why there’s no need to be.” That comment alone is enough for heat to pool between her legs.

“Now for the other things we need to discuss.” Krennic says, rising back up to his full height. He taps his fingers on her desk and gestures for her to take a seat. As she does, Krennic’s hand slides under the desk, his fingers come into contact with something small and metal. He pulls on it and it comes loose from Mon's desk. He slips the listening device into the pocket of his trousers. Mon spies his actions in her peripheral vision but doesn't react to it. A small thrill of relief shoots through her at the realisation that she might not even need to ask Krennic to help her restore her privacy, he may just do it himself. 

He leans against her desk, his arms crossed, his legs pressed against hers. “Your comment about fear of reprisals…” Dread pools in Mon’s stomach. Do they really need to talk about it? “Where did that come from?” 

Cold panic washes over her. How does she even answer that question? Telling him the truth would indicate that she’s privy to information that she wouldn’t be if she didn’t have connections to the rebellion. But she doesn’t have a believable lie.

“Mon…” His voice is soft and he brushes the back of his hand down her cheek. “Tell me.” Her brain flicks through possible explanations she could offer but none of them would hold up if he decided to scrutinise them in any way. “Mon…” His tone is sterner now. It takes her by surprise and she’s reminded of just who she’s dealing with. She swallows. “I’m not going to hurt you, just be honest with me.”

“The men you associate with don’t have the best reputation when it comes to women…” Her voice is quiet. It’s not a lie but it’s not the reason for her comment. Krennic watches her for a moment, his eyes narrowed as though he’s trying to decide whether to believe her. He thinks she’s referring to the one night she spent with him in a more intimate social gathering. That blasted dinner . But on the basis of that night and some of the things said, her impression of him isn’t entirely unreasonable. 

“I’m not them.” There’s an edge to his words. He holds her gaze. There’s an underlying ice to his expression, it burns Mon. A chasm is growing between them as they stare at one another. Mon knows she needs to bridge the gap or all will be lost.

“No, you're not.” Her voice is barely a whisper, it's deliberate, a show of concession. Krennic’s hand moves from her cheek to her chin and he tilts her head back. The hold is gentle but firm, powerful. The shift in power leaves her feeling disoriented and her brain scrambles for a way to claw some of it back. 

“But you don’t trust me.”

“Trust is earned.” Mon retorts, using his own words against him. Krennic understands the reference at once and something akin to frustration crosses his expression. Mon lets out a breath, the power is rebalanced but the atmosphere has changed. There’s a tension between them. The knife edge has shifted from will they have sex to can they survive the aftermath and if they can, how?

“Earn it.” She adds whilst she’s still the one with the power, a challenge. 

Krennic laughs. “Challenge accepted.”

“I trust you’ll rise to it accordingly.” Mon retorts. It’s an act, all part of the plan.

“Speaking of challenges… my funding application…”

“I’m not changing my vote.” Her voice is flat and she resists the urge to roll her eyes. This is one boundary she will insist on.

“Mon…” Krennic tries but Mon interrupts him. 

“If this is going to be a thing… I think we need to set some rules.”

“A thing?” He smirks. “Oh my dear… I think we’re beyond that.” Mon rolls her eyes.

“Hardly.” She retorts. “We’ve had sex once.”

“And kissed twice… don’t forget them. I’m very fond of those memories.” Mon glares at him. “And as for only having sex once, that can and will be remedied.” The certainty in his voice stirs something in her. “In fact, we could remedy it now.” Mon ignores the effect it has on her body.

“If this is going to become something, we need some rules.” She tries again.

“Shall I let you in on a secret?” He asks leaning in close to her. Mon can feel his breath against her skin, it tingles. “It’s already something. It’s been something for a while.” Mon gasps. And then Krennic straightens up.

“Rules.” She tries for a third time.

“Rules are boring.”

“Perhaps but at least then, we know where we stand.”

“And what happens if one of us breaks the rules? Do we get punished?” There’s a teasing to his voice. Anger surges through Mon’s veins. Why won’t he take her seriously?

“Unless you agree, this is going nowhere.” She retorts, so much for an “adult conversation”.

“Very well… name your terms and we can negotiate them.”

“No more bruises.” Her tone is abrupt when she speaks. Krennic reaches for her wrist, picks it up gently and pulls it towards him. The pad of his thumb traces the bruise.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, but some of the others do.” Krennic frowns.

“Others?” 

“You’ve left them all over my body.” At that, Krennic smirks. The desire to see exactly where they are takes over his concern.

“Show me.”

“No.” Her tone is abrupt.

“Mon…”

“No.” She repeats. There’s no possible set of circumstances that would result in her showing where exactly he’s left bruises on her body, not when they’re sitting in her office and so many of them are in places she wouldn’t want anyone to see.

“Show me and I’ll agree.” Krennic bargains.

“No. If you don’t agree, we won’t be having sex again.”

“You don’t honestly think you’ll be able to stick to that, do you?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I do. Of course, if it did happen again and I ended up with bruises, I’m sure my husband would take delight in the belief that he was the one who marked me.” A possessive anger shoots through Krennic at that.

“No.” He seethes. “You’re mine.” And then his lips are on hers. The kiss is brutal, controlling, all consuming and when he finally pulls back, Mon’s out of breath. Desire twists in her stomach and she wants him but at the same time, she doesn’t. He kneels before her and places a hand on each ankle, gently teasing them apart. Krennic attempts to position himself between her legs but he’s met with the thick fabric of her dress. Instead, he runs a hand up her calf to her knee but that’s as far as gets, her dress making it difficult to go any further and almost impossible to locate her panties. 

“You need to wear shorter dresses.” He huffs, pulling his hand out and changing tactics. He grabs the hem of her dress, and pushes it up her body. It bunches at her waist.

“Stop.” Mon breathes, suddenly very aware of where they are. Krennic frowns, surely they’re not back to her resisting it? “Not here.” She elaborates.

“Mon… the door is closed.” Krennic tries to reason with her, he’s already removed and deactivated the listening device for this very purpose; eating her out on her desk in her senatorial office is something he’s been fantasising about since their first conversation in it when she’d ignored him whilst she finished her work, simply because he hadn’t made an appointment. 

“Someone could walk in. Not everyone knocks.” He doesn’t miss the reference but chooses to ignore it. 

“Very well.” Krennic relents, reluctantly standing up and walking around her desk to the seat opposite. “But, my dear, one day I fully intend to have you on your desk.” The image of it flashes before her eyes and she quickly blinks it away, thinking of it, will make it more likely and right now, there’s still too much they need to discuss.

“Rule 2… no more accusing me of betraying you if I don’t vote in your interests in the Senate.” At that, Krennic purses his lips. “You’re not one of my constituents, I’m not your senator. Chandrila comes first.” 

“Oh, but you are.” He says it so matter of factly, there’s no room for negotiating with him on it. Mon’s not even sure she wants to. She’s wearing his gift, her body is littered with his bruises and she’s thinking about him taking her on her desk in this very office. She’s reminded of her earlier revelation and puts her lack of disgust down to the fact that the sex was so good and she does desire him. But it’s nothing more than that.

“Have dinner with me tonight.” Krennic asks. Panic washes over her. Dinner isn’t sex. Dinner suggests a relationship. Dinner suggests feelings.

“I can't.”

“Mon… I told you I'm not letting you walk away, not this time.” He tries to hide the frustration in his voice.

“There's a late vote scheduled this evening. It's unlikely I'll have time for dinner.” She reasons. Krennic nods at her response but he won’t be deterred. 

“Can't you miss this one?”

“No.” It’s more abrupt than she’d intended.

“Mon…” This time, he doesn’t try to hide the frustration. Mon wonders what his limit will be, wonders how long he’ll accept her saying no and pushing back before he reaches a point where he’s had enough. Is her refusal to do as he wishes going to be a point of contention between them?

“This one matters. It won't pass but how I vote matters and it will matter in the eons to come. I won't be included with the ones who stood by and did nothing.” There’s an edge to her voice. If they’re going to allow something to happen between them, Krennic has to understand what her boundaries are and she will not compromise on her principles for him.

“What time is the vote? I'll make a reservation for after it.”

“Late.” She’s not being deliberately difficult. 

“Mon…”

“Tomorrow night?” She offers a compromise. “I’ll get them to clear my diary.”

“Tonight.” He insists and Mon wonders if he would be this stubborn if they were to become involved. Would he demand her time and attention? Would he expect her to drop everything if he wanted to spend an evening with her? What would the consequences be if she refused?

Mon rolls her eyes. “If you make a reservation for tonight, I won’t show.” She warns him. Krennic’s about to respond but there’s a knock on her office door.

“Come in.” A flicker of annoyance crosses Krennic’s face at the interruption. He clearly doesn’t like sharing her attention. Over the years, Mon’s lack of work-life balance caused problems between her and Perrin; Mon regularly put the Senate and galaxy first because that was always more important, more urgent, or something that affected more than just her family. As the power of the Empire and Emperor grew, so too did Mon’s dedication to her work. If Krennic has a problem sharing her with the Senate now, what will it be like if they start something and where would her family fit into that? 

The door to Mon’s office opens and Bail Organa steps into the room.

“Bail…” Mon smiles at him, standing. The familiarity with which she greets him stirs something akin to jealousy in Krennic. Where does the senator from Alderaan fit into Mon’s life?

“Sorry for interrupting, I thought we had a meeting.”

“We do.” Mon smiles at Bail. “Director Krennic…” Her tone is formal again. “I think we've concluded matters.” Her dismissal irritates him. How dare she just cast him aside like that! A tension descends upon the room as Orson decides how to respond. Does he confront her over such an abrupt dismissal or does he wait and discuss it with her at a later time? Reading the room and the tension in it, he decides to leave it for now. He smiles at Mon but it doesn't quite meet his eyes.

“You're correct, we are done.” He says, standing up and then adds “For now.” He holds a hand out to Mon for her to shake. She places her hand in his. Krennic allows his fingers to gently trace her pulse point. The touch is barely there but it’s electric and then he lets go of her hand and steps back.

“Senator Mothma, until next time.” His own tone is formal as he bids her farewell before turning away from her. Krennic’s gaze lands on the man still hovering in the doorway. “Senator Organa.” His eyes study his face, scrutinising the man and again, he wonders what the relationship between the two senators is. Bail Organa is a known sympathiser of the rebels, but then, so too, is Mon. Perhaps that is why they seem close, or perhaps there’s more to it. Krennic stops in front of him, Bail now blocking the door. There’s a brief moment, where their gazes lock and Krennic’s not entirely sure who is sizing who up and then Organa steps aside and Krennic walks out of Mon’s office. He casts a glance back at the two of them, hoping to catch Mon’s eye but her focus is now on Senator Organa and her demeanour has changed. She’s relaxed, as though she’s in the presence of someone she trusts and he wonders what it would be like if he was one of those people. And then he’s walking away from her.

“Are we free to talk?” Bail asks, once Krennic has gone and the door to Mon’s office has closed, cocooning them into some semblance of privacy. 

“Yes. Krennic removed a listening device. If there were more, he would’ve removed them too.” 

“Do I ask why?” Bail enquiries, an eyebrow raised, taking a seat in the chair Krennic has not long vacated. 

“That depends on whether you want the answer.” Mon responds, a soft smile on her face. 

“Perhaps not. Just the thought of you having anything to do with that man makes me incredibly uncomfortable.” Bail concludes and Mon knows the comment is well intended and Bail would never judge her for what she’s done or about to do but it makes her feel uneasy all the same. She tries to push it out of her mind.

“It’s a necessary evil.” She offers. “One that might not last very long, if Perrin finds out but I suspect that is not the reason you pretended we had a meeting scheduled.”

“I found somewhere…”

“You mean… for a base?” Mon’s eyes widen. They’d always said that one of the first things they would need to do would be find a base from which an organised rebellion could operate.

“Yes. One of the moons of Yavin. Luthen’s been using it as a drop off point for supplies and the Massassi Group were operating from there.” That comes as a surprise to her, she wasn’t aware that Luthen’s network has such far reaches. Yavin isn’t a planet she knows well.

“It’s a jungle planet, isn’t it?” She frowns, noting the similarities to her thoughts about the mountains of Chandrila being an ideal place if it wasn’t a core world. 

“Yes, but it’s liveable and the jungle will offer cover.” Bail reasons. Mon senses there’s more to it than what he’s saying.

“When you say liveable?”

“It needs some work but the Great Temple is still standing.” He shrugs. ‘Some work’ could mean anything but she trusts Bail’s judgment and until they attempt to use the planet, they won’t know if it is feasible or not but at least they have somewhere to get started.

“We’ll need someone we can trust… you and I can’t go there yet. Not without raising suspicions, not now.”

“Now?” Bail narrows his eyes at her.

“Krennic.”

“I won’t ask but tell me you know what you’re doing and you’ll be safe.” There’s a softness to his words and she appreciates the concern.

“I will be.” She offers him a smile. “So, Yavin… we’re really doing this?”

“We’re really doing it.”

“I’ll reach out to Draven.” Mon offers. She’s been in regular but secret contact with Davits Draven since he decided to stand against the Empire. His band of rebels have been a thorn in the Empire’s side for a while now but they don’t yet have the manpower or resources for a full scale rebellion. He’s been biding time for her, building up a team so that when the time is right, the infrastructure would already be in place and Mon and Bail could lead the fight back.

“Tell him that he’ll need some engineers he can trust.” Bail says, a smirk pulling at his lips. It’s clearly worse than he let on.

“It’s that bad?” Mon raises an eyebrow, she wasn’t expecting a massive civilisation but she had thought that the location they chose would, at least, come with some buildings.

“It’s… underdeveloped.” He says slowly, searching for the right word to use. Mon nods. An underdeveloped base can be remedied, they have time. 

“Have you spoken to Saw?” She asks. Saw was the third party in what she has come to call ‘the first alliance’ in her head, a meeting nearly two decades ago in which the three agreed the time would come to fight back and they had to wait until then. 

“No, I’ve stuck to our agreement.” Mon nods again, she’s also stuck to it. “Do you think we should?”

“He’ll say no but we should at least give him the opportunity to join us.” Mon reasons. Bail agrees.

“You reach out to Draven and I’ll reach out to Saw.” She’s grateful for that delegation, her and Saw don’t have the greatest relationship and his attacks against the Empire are making things more difficult for everyone, including Luthen’s Axis Network.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Mon exclaims, she’s not entirely sure where it comes from.

“It’s time.” Bail concludes.

“You hanging around for the vote later?” She asks, changing the conversation. There’s no more to be said about their plan. 

“Not sure yet. I need to get back to Alderaan.” The rest is left unsaid but she knows what he means: he cannot contact Saw Gerrera from Coruscant, he’s under too much Imperial surveillance but that is not the case on Alderaan. 

“Well, if I don’t see you before you leave, safe travels.” She offers him a smile and Bail stands. There’s an unspoken tension between the two of them, they both know the danger of what they’re now doing, both know that one mistake, one wrong move could cost their lives. The ‘good luck’ and ‘stay safe’ passes between them in smiles, the words not said out loud for fear of jinxing it and then Bail is leaving her office.

Mon is afforded another hour of peace to complete some work before she is interrupted again. She’s so engrossed in Partagaz’ report that she still hasn’t finished that she doesn’t even register her door opening and someone walking into her office. Krennic hovers in the doorway for a moment, watching her at work. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and narrows her eyes in concentration at something she’s reading. Krennic enjoys the sight. He waits another minute for her to realise he’s there before making his presence known.

“Mon.” At the sound of her name, Mon looks up. Surprise crosses her face as her gaze falls on Krennic.

“What are you doing here?”

“Taking you to dinner.” Krennic shrugs, walking towards her. Mon tries not to be angry at him ignoring her earlier refusal.

“I told you I couldn’t tonight.” 

“I ignored you.” He shrugs, taking a seat, there’s almost a playfulness to it but Mon doesn’t find it romantic or playful. He’s deliberately ignored her. She made it very clear that she couldn’t have dinner with him this evening because of the vote in the Senate and he’s just disregarded that because it doesn’t fit with what he wants. Is this how it will be going forward? Will he expect her to drop everything to comply with what he wants?

“You ignored me?” She raises an eyebrow and purses her lips, annoyance clear in her tone. Krennic seems surprised by it. He doesn’t get a chance to respond.

“Senator…” Erskin’s lingering in the doorway. “The Oathkeeper is about to call the chamber.”

“Thank you Erskin.” She replies, offering him a smile and then turns back to Krennic. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to miss dinner.” Krennic’s jaw twitches.

“I’ll wait.” 

“You do realise it’s a vote… they call a quorum.” Krennic stares at her blankly. Mon resists the urge to smirk. For someone who has so much business before the Senate, he doesn’t know the basic procedural rules. “I won’t be able to leave until the final vote is cast.” Still Krennic doesn’t seem bothered by the information. “I could be in the chamber all night.”

“Then we can have breakfast instead.” He shrugs, gesturing with his hand that it matters not.

“You’re really going to wait?”

“Yes, we need to finish our conversation that was so rudely interrupted by your friend. ” There’s an emphasis on the word ‘friend’ and Mon wonders if it’s caused by jealousy.

“My friend had an appointment.” She lies.

“Mon, I already told you… I am not making an appointment every time I want to invite you to dinner.”

“Breakfast.” She corrects but he doesn’t find it funny. “I have to go.” She stands and walks around her desk. “If you’re staying, don’t touch anything. In fact, Erskin, I’m leaving you in charge. If he touches anything bar the seat he’s sitting in, have Senate Security remove him.” She shoots Krennic a pointed look and he raises his hands up as though to say he won’t do anything. Erskin, on the other hand, looks absolutely delighted. Mon resists the urge to laugh as she grabs her datapad and walks to the door of her office.

“Mon…” Krennic calls her back. She turns, a frown on her face. He walks towards her, stops in front of her and places a kiss on her cheek. There’s something oddly domestic about it. “If only you were making a speech, I’d have been tempted to watch that.” There’s a mischievous glint in his eye. Mon knows he’s referring to his earlier comment. She ignores it.

‘Behave whilst I’m gone.” She warns him and then she’s walking out of her office, heading for the Senate Chamber, leaving Krennic with Erskin.

When Mon returns to her office several hours later, Krennic is exactly where she left him. He's reading something on his datapad. 

“You’re still here?” She asks, catching him off guard. 

“Yes, I told you I would wait.” 

“Erskin, you can finish up for the night.” Mon turns back to the outer office. Her aide is still sitting at his desk. She feels bad for keeping him so late but she doesn’t trust Krennic.

“Thank you Senator, before I go, is there anything you need for tomorrow?” His tone is more formal than normal due to Krennic’s presence.

“No, but first thing I will need the agenda for tomorrow’s Appropriation meeting.” She replies, her own voice more professional than she uses normally. Krennic frowns at the comment, Mon doesn’t sit on the Appropriation Committee. Perhaps she’s filling in for Senator Organa again and that’s what their meeting was about.

“Of course.” Erskin replies. “Have a good evening Senator.” The aide smiles and then he’s gone. Mon turns back to the figure in her office.

“I must say, I’m impressed.”

Krennic’s frown widens. “Impressed?” He shuts off his datapad. 

“Apparently, you’re not a patient man.” Mon’s tone is teasing, “Yet, you’ve waited hours to take me out.” Her voice is teasing but, in truth, she’s flattered by it and whilst she’s not happy about his insistence that it be that evening despite her saying no, the efforts he’s prepared to go to, stirs something in her. It leaves her wondering just how deep his feelings are for her.

“You’re right, I have and as much as I love your office, perhaps we can finally leave it.” He stands up. 

Exhaustion finally hits Mon and she doesn’t have the energy to argue with him, so instead, she agrees. Krennic walks to the door of her office but stops when he realises she isn’t quite leaving yet. Mon’s packing up her stuff that she can’t leave in her office overnight, the rest she locks away. Krennic watches her with a mild curiosity, wondering why she locks her things away at night, perhaps her lack of trust goes beyond him. And then she’s walking towards him. He takes her arm and leads her out of her office, out of the Senate building to his speeder waiting for them at gate 9. His driver has been on standby all night, waiting for the moment that Director Krennic finally needs his services. His eyes widen when he sees that Krennic is accompanied by none other than Senator Mothma. He smirks to himself and then gets out of the speeder to greet them both, pushing the button for the speeder doors. 

There’s a heavy silence between the two of them as the speeder passes through the streets of Coruscant. It’s quiet tonight and Mon’s reminded of the last time they were in a speeder at night. The tension tonight is very different to what it had been that night. Tonight it’s not an angry tension but one filled with angst. Mon watches out the window, her eyes following the blinking streetlights and the neon signs of night time establishments; it’s not often that she’s out this late and she’s fascinated by how different Coruscant looks at this hour. Her hand rests on the seat between her and Krennic. His hand lies next to hers, so close but not quite touching her. As she looks out of the window, Mon thinks of the events of the day, of the emotions that have hit her at different points throughout the day and the situation she now finds herself in. She’s so wrapped up in trying to process everything that she stops paying attention to where they are going. It’s not until the speeder pulls up outside an apartment building she doesn’t recognise that she realises they’ve arrived and she’s no idea where they are. She’d been expecting a restaurant in the Entertainment District but they seem to be in the Verity District, if the tall towers are anything to go by.

“What are we doing here?” Mon turns to Krennic.

“All decent restaurants are closed at this hour and it’s too early for breakfast but my staff are available.” And then it dawns on her.

“You’ve brought me to your apartment?”

“Yes.” Panic washes over Mon. Is he expecting her to have sex with him? Why has he brought her to his apartment? 

Before Mon even has time to process where they are and what it means, Krennic has stepped out of the speeder and is holding out his hand for Mon. She reluctantly follows him. He stops in front of a set of glass doors, they’re dimmed to conceal the contents of the apartment to anyone passing by in a speeder. And then the glass doors of the apartment block are sliding open for them, Krennic takes a step back to let her in. Mon steps into his apartment with a sense of curiosity. There’s something intimate about being in a person’s home. It’s a level of intimacy she’s never associated with him before, not even when they had sex. It’s a peek behind the curtain into who he really is once the white cape and white uniform are stripped back. He places his hand on her lower back and gently nudges her further into his apartment. The door opens onto a spacious, open plan kitchenette, dining area and sitting area; the dining table is laden with plates of food and a bottle of wine. His home is more elegant and modern than she’d been expecting. His hand leaves her back and he steps around her towards the sink in the kitchenette. Krennic reaches up and opens a cupboard door, taking a glass out and filling it with water.

“Mon… do you want some water?” He asks, remembering that he has a guest. She shakes her head. He takes a drink of the cool liquid and then undoes his tunic. Mon watches him for a moment, notes how different he looks like this, how normal. And then she turns her head around to take in the rest of his apartment. 

The door to the bedroom is ajar and Mon catches a glimpse of his bed, of dark silk sheets. She finds herself imaging how it would feel for him to pin her against the soft material and fuck her senseless. Where did that come from? Krennic catches her looking and smirks but doesn’t say anything, placing the empty glass in the sink. Whilst he would love nothing more than to have sex with her in his bed, that’s not the purpose of tonight. He places a hand on her back and guides her back towards the dining area. He pulls a chair out for her. Mon hesitantly sits down. Her nervous state is palpable. Krennic gently cups the back of her neck. She flinches at first and then relaxes into his touch. He presses his lips to her temple and then lets go of her neck and reaches for the bottle of wine on the table. It’s Chandrilan, he notes as he pours the liquid into her glass.

“Thank you.” Her voice is quiet. He pours a second glass for himself before placing the bottle back on the table and taking a seat opposite her. 

“Help yourself.” Krennic says gesturing to the selection of dishes in front of them. “I suspect it’s been a while since you last ate.” Mon doesn’t tell him it’s been hours, that she didn’t have time for lunch or dinner, so the last time she ate was breakfast. She’s too confused by his concern for her to say anything. Instead, she reaches for the plate closest to her, placing a few portions of sushi onto her own plate. Krennic follows suit, selecting a combination of dumplings and rockfish canapes.

“I think we need to have a conversation about what happens next.” He exclaims, once they’ve finished eating and the plates have been removed by his staff. Mon nods. She might finally get some answers to what he wants.

“What do you want?” She asks.

“You.” Mon resists the urge to roll her eyes. “I want you in my bed every night, I want to wake up to you every morning. When I get back from Eadu or Scariff, I want you here to greet me.” Panic washes over Mon. He wants a relationship. “But I’m realistic. I know you’re not ready for that. I also know that we cannot go back to how things were before, and I don’t want to.” Mon opens her mouth to speak, but she doesn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected such honesty from him.

“So, until you are ready…” He takes a sip of wine. “I’ll accept an affair.”

“What if I’m never ready?” She asks, her thoughts on Perrin and then the rebellion.

Krennic flashes her a knowing smile. “You will be.” He says it with such certainty and Mon feels bad that she’s going to use him. “And until then, I will treat this like a relationship. I won’t see or sleep with anyone else and all women I attend events with will be for appearances only. And I expect the same from you.”

“I’m married.”

“Don’t remind me.” Krennic seethes. “If you’re sleeping with him to keep up the pretence, I don’t want to know about it. I don’t want to see his marks on your body.” Mon doesn’t respond to that. “Mon…”

“I need time to consider your proposition. I may have some counter arguments.”

“Any worthy opponent would.” He tells her with a smirk, referencing the comment that started it all. Mon shares the smirk.

“I have a question to ask you. Before I do, you can say no but I think you should say yes.” A sudden vulnerability comes over him and she narrows her gaze, wondering what could possibly be having that effect on him.

“Stay the night.” He meets her gaze as he says it.

“What?”

“Stay.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

“Stay.” It’s a strange mix of gently asking her and desperately pleading with her. There’s a vulnerability to it. Mon wants to say no and she almost does. But something stops her. Perhaps it’s the look on his face, perhaps it’s his tone of voice, perhaps it’s something else. 

“I thought you were going to give me time?” Mon asks. She’s almost incapable of saying no to him but panic washes over her at the idea of staying the night. Having sex in a corridor is one thing but staying the night is intimate. It’s reminiscent of a relationship. It’s a stripping away of defences, surrendering to a vulnerability that Mon has not experienced since her wedding night. It requires complete trust and she doesn’t even trust him slightly. Orson Krennic is a man who preys on a person’s vulnerability, exposes their weaknesses and then uses them for his own ends. What weakness is he intending to expose in Mon? Which vulnerability is he trying to use against her?

“I am…” Krennic says softly, a bit taken aback by her question. “Staying the night doesn’t change that.” 

He stands and walks around the table, stopping in front of her and holding out his hand. Mon's eyes flick to his outstretched hand and then up to his eyes and back down again. Her mouth dries. Desire stirs in her and her body is screaming at her to accept. But her mind is telling her to say no, running through all the reasons it's a bad idea. It's only one night . But it's one night. And what happens after? He's already told her that: an affair first and then her in his bed every night.  Does she want that? Snippets of their first time flash in her mind like scenes from a movie reel. And kriff she does want it again. But angst fuelled sex that happened as a result of desire filled tension boiling over is not the same as spending every night in his bed. 

Before she knows what she's doing, she's placing her hand in his. Krennic smiles but he senses her hesitancy.

“Mon… it's just one night.” He tells her softly. But it's not one night and deep down, they both know it. Mon nods. Krennic gently pulls her up. Tension crackles between them. He studies her expression for a moment for any hint of uncertainty. 

“One night.” She hears herself say.

“For now.” Krennic smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. And Mon finds herself giving in. She expects him to kiss her but he doesn't. He gives her hand a gentle tug and then he's leading her to the bedroom. Mon's stomach flutters with nerves. It's slower, more delicate than she'd expected, as though he's treating her like a porcelain doll. She's not sure if it annoys her but it feels weird. 

Krennic stops at the ajar door and looks back at Mon. She smiles at him and then he's pushing the door open further. He lets go of her hand and places his on her back.

“Well?” He teases. “Does the Senator approve?” His lips are close to her ear and he nips her earlobe. Mon turns to him, an eyebrow raised. “You'll like the feel of the sheets.” She's not sure why she finds it amusing but she does. Trust Krennic to ruin the moment.

“Will I?” She smirks. Krennic doesn't respond, his lips place a kiss to her neck.

“Orson.” Mon warns. “No marks.” Krennic chuckles.

“No marks.” He repeats, a glint in his eye.

“Already considering reneging on our deal?”

“We’re still in negotiations.” He says, his voice husky. Mon’s breath hitches. “This is merely a narrowing of the issues to see if we can come to an agreement.” At his words, goosebumps erupt all over her body and her nipples harden. Krennic places a kiss on the back of her neck and Mon tilts her head back. There’s a tightness in her stomach. How does he have this effect on her? Her eyes close as she gives in to the feel of his kisses.

“Keep this up and I won’t be able to say no.” Mon breathes but it’s not until Krennic responds that she realises she’s said it and not just thought it.

“That’s the plan.” He teases. Mon’s eyes shoot open. And then she resigns herself to the fact that even if she wanted to, she can’t get out of it, not after that comment. His lips are back on her neck, peppering her with light kisses. He’s sticking to the no bruises rule. But when he reaches the one already marking the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder, and that possessiveness he always feels towards Mon takes over, a wicked idea forms in his mind. He pulls the already purple skin between his lips and sucks. A moan falls from Mon's lips.

“No marks.”

“Mon… the mark’s already there.” He teases against her skin, the vibrations tingling. “I’m just making sure it stays.” 

“Do you always play dirty during negotiations?” Mon raises an eyebrow, twisting her head round to face him.

“That's not playing dirty.” Krennic's voice is husky. “This…” Krennic runs his hand up her stomach to her breast and squeezes. “Is playing dirty.” A moan escapes Mon’s lips. And then his hand is unzipping her dress. His lips follow his finger, kissing a trail down her spine as he exposes her skin. Mon arches up into the touch. He makes it to the bottom of the zip and then he reaches up and pushes the dress off her shoulders. It slips down her body, pooling at her feet. Mon hisses as the cold air of his bedroom hits her now exposed skin.

“Sorry.” Krennic says softly. “I know just how to warm you up.” She rolls her eyes at his comment. But then his lips are on her shoulder, his hand brushing around her waist, over her stomach and up to her breast. The touch is firmer this time, as though he learnt last time they had sex that she’s not porcelain, she won’t break. Mon moans. He pinches her nipple, rolling it back and forth between his fingers, his lips peppering kisses on her skin.

His free hand skirts down her stomach, the touch as light as a feather but it sets her body alight. And his fingers slip into her panties. She’s already soaked. Krennic runs a finger in delicate circles over her clit. Mon moans, her body squirming, crying out for more. Then he removes his hand.

“Orson.” Mon’s voice is heavy with lust and he chuckles against her skin. And then his fingers are back playing with her clit, tracing shapes on the sensitive nub. It flutters beneath his fingers and Orson takes that as a sign to increase the pressure. He pinches her clit and Mon flinches. She breathes his name in a desperate plea and it’s music to his ears. He flicks her clit, harder than he intended, but it’s enough to send her over the edge.

Krennic holds her steady as she rides out her orgasm, her legs shaking. And then he steps around her, takes her hand in his and gently leads her to his bed. Mon is hesitant. This is it. This is the moment where it becomes more than just casual sex. He may have agreed to give her time to consider his proposal but they both know it’s for show. He’s made it perfectly clear what he wants and, as he told her when this all started, he’s a man who gets what he wants. And Mon knows that she has to go through with it, for Perrin, for Bail, for Luthen’s network, for the rebellion but that doesn’t make it any easier, doesn’t make her feel any less dirty and there’s the part of her that wants it, the part she’s been trying to ignore but can’t for much longer. 

They’re at the foot of his bed. Krennic smiles at her. His free hand cups her neck, his thumb stroking her cheek.

“It’s okay.” It’s almost a whisper and Mon nods, forcing all of her feelings down and allows herself to get lost in the moment. He lets go of her hand, placing his own on his waist and gently pushing her down onto the bed. The silk is cold against her skin but so soft. Orson brushes his lips against hers and then he kneels before her. He smirks when he realises it’s reminiscent of what he had tried to do in her office that morning. He wraps both hands around her thighs and pulls them apart. His smirk widens when his eyes land on the mark he left there. He kisses it and then casts a glance at her expression. But as his gaze cuts up her body, he notices the other marks on her skin. Kriff, there’s a lot. More than he’d expected and more than he remembers leaving. Knowing he’s left such a claim on her sends blood rushing to his cock. And then in a brief moment of perversion, he wonders if her drip of a husband saw them this morning and wondered who left them, wondered who’s satisfying her, wondered who’s name she’s moaning when she cums. Mon raises an eyebrow at him. An unspoken challenge. Krennic runs his hands up her thighs to the top of her red panties, hooks his thumbs under the lace and pulls the material. The lace digs into Mon as he moves it down her legs and she winces, the friction is likely to leave a burn. But before she can dwell on it, he’s tossed her panties somewhere behind her and his mouth is pressed against her opening. He drags his tongue slowly over her slit, it’s agonisingly slow and Mon arches against him, a moan falling from her lips. She grips the back of his head, gently pushing against it, trying to get him to increase his speed, his pressure, anything but he doesn’t. He nudges her clit with his tongue, circling the nub. Mon arches up off the bed when he cups her clit with his lips. Krennic tightens his hold on one thigh but lifts her other leg over his shoulder, allowing him better access. And when he sucks her clit, Mon’s heel digs into his back. Her head rolls back, another moan leaving her lips. Krennic increases his pressure, her sensitive clit swelling up between his lips and then he pulls back. Mon groans in frustration, she’s so close to her peak, can feel it building and all it takes is for him to blow softly against her nub. Mon’s legs tremble against him as her second orgasm crashes through her and he holds her steady, his gaze focused on her face, the shape of her mouth and the lust filled glaze over her eyes. Kriff, she’s beautiful when she cums.  

He gives her a moment for the waves of pleasure to ebb away and then he lifts himself up from the floor. With one hand, he pushes her back against the bed, the other undoes his belt and his trousers and tosses them aside. His underwear is next and he rolls his boxers down his legs before stepping out of them. Mon rises up off the bed, resting on her elbows and watches him. He steps towards her. Her eyes travel the length of his toned body and she licks her lips.

“See something you like?” Krennic teases. Mon rolls her eyes at him and then he’s climbing onto the bed, his knees on either side of her body. He kisses her but before she can deepen it, his lips are working their way down her body, covering every inch of her skin. He runs his fingers through her folds and pushes them inside of her, making sure she’s wet enough and then he removes them and guides his cock to her entrance. He lifts his head from her body, his gaze locking with hers and pushes into her, her tight walls gripping his cock. Mon’s mouth falls open at the intrusion. Krennic gives her a moment to get used to him and then he moves, thrusting in and out of her. His lips travel back up to her body to her mouth and this time, he allows her to deepen it. She whimpers into his mouth as he increases his pace, her walls milking him. Mon’s pussy throbs but she can almost feel her climax and so she arches against him, begging him for more. Krennic changes his angle so that he’s fucking against her g-spot and after a few well paced thrusts, Mon’s release crashes through her. 

“That might be my most favourite sight in the galaxy.” He says in her ear, his voice gravelly and laced with his own need. He pushes even deeper into her, her walls clamping around his cock as the waves of her orgasm rock through her body. And then he’s coming. Orson rests his head in the crook of her neck as his own release washes over him and he comes deep inside her.

Krennic lifts his head, his gaze searches Mon's face. There’s no sign of regret in her expression and relief washes over him. There’s no hint of the panic she’d felt last time and he allows himself to think that she’s finally accepted it. He pulls out of her and she shivers. It’s in that moment that he realises the impromptu sleepover means she has nothing to sleep in. Krennic climbs off the bed.

“Stay there.” He tells her. It’s more forceful than he intended. Mon nods. He walks to his chest of drawers, opens the bottom door and pulls out a t- shirt. Then he opens the top drawer and takes out a clean pair of boxers. He returns to Mon, who is now sitting up in the bed, the silk covers wrapped around her body. Perhaps he didn’t need to go to the trouble of getting her something to sleep in. He offers it to her anyway.

“Here.” He says softly, holding it out to her. Confusion washes over Mon as she takes the shirt from him. Krennic watches her as she seems to weigh up whether or not to put it on. She’s not sure what to do.  Wearing it adds another level of intimacy but the alternative is remaining naked and she’s not sure she wants to do that either. Reluctantly, she puts it on as Krennic puts on his clean boxers. And then he pulls the covers on his side of the bed back and slips beneath the silk sheets. Mon lies down beside him but as she does, her brain starts to recover and her thoughts from earlier return to her in floods. Krennic wraps his arm around Mon’s waist and pulls her against him, his nose nuzzling against her neck.

“I could get used to this.” His voice is low. Mon doesn’t answer. His revelation of what he wants with her and the idea of her spending the night so frequently that he could get used to her falling asleep in his arms sparks an uncontrollable guilt in her.

Mon feels his breathing slow and his hold on her waist loosen, as Krennic starts to drift off. She waits a while longer until she’s certain that he’s asleep and then she slips out from under his arm and out from under the soft covers. Krennic stirs. Mon freezes. But he merely turns over and settles further into the silky black. Mon lets out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. Then she takes a step, her eyes trying to focus in the dark as they search for her clothes on the floor. Her dress and shoes are in sight and easy to collect, but her panties are nowhere to be seen. Mon wracks her brain trying to remember where they were when Krennic removed her underwear. She curses to herself when she realises they had already made it to his bed. In the darkness of his bedroom, she cannot see where they ended up. She's left with two choices: try and find them and risk getting caught or go without. She casts a glance back to Krennic. He's still sleeping. Mon watches him for a moment, he looks peaceful, innocent almost and certainly not capable of the monstrosities he's been a part of. And with that she makes her decision. She carefully gathers her dress and shoes and tiptoes out of the bedroom, gently closing the door behind her to prevent him waking up. The lights sense her movement as she walks across the hallway and into the fresher, coming to life in a blaze of blinding gold. She pulls his t-shirt over head and debates what to do with it. Should she return it to the bedroom? Should she try to locate the washing basket? Should she just leave it on the floor? She decides to fold it neatly and leave it on the small unit in the fresher and then quickly turns her attention to getting dressed. As she pulls her dress over her head and slips her feet into her shoes, she prays over and over again that Krennic doesn't wake up. 

Luck is on her side; when Mon emerges from the fresher fully dressed, save for her missing underwear, the bedroom door is still closed and there's no light shining underneath it. Krennic is still asleep. Mon breathes a sigh of relief. Then with baited breath, she tiptoes through Krennic’s apartment to the front door, picking up her things from the table as she passes. It's not until she reaches the door that she realises she's no idea how she's getting back home. Mon casts a glance back to the bedroom door. She could slip back into bed with him, wait until the morning and ask for him to drive her home, he'd never know she considered leaving in the dead of night without saying anything. But that would mean waking up with him, maybe having breakfast with him. That's too much, too domestic, too soon. Instead, she opens the front door and steps out into the night. Krennic’s driver is on standby and Mon decides to chance it. Fortunately, the driver is more than happy to take her home.

Perrin's fast asleep when she enters their bedroom. She lets out a sigh of relief. He'll just assume she was working late in the Senate following the vote. In the dark, she changes into her nightgown and then slips under the covers beside her husband. She doesn't kiss him, doesn't even touch him, she can't, not after what she's just done. Instead, she watches him sleep, finds herself comparing him to Krennic again and she thinks about what she's risking, what she could lose. And then she thinks of Krennic and what she could gain. She thinks of everything Krennic’s done and said in the last 24 hours. He showed her a side to him that she didn't know existed, a side she suspects is just for her and it's that she's thinking of when she finally falls asleep.

Orson Krennic stirs as the Coruscanti sunlight shines through the windows. In their haste last night, he’d forgotten to put the windows into black out mode. It’s the most restful sleep he’s had in an age and he suspects that is due to Mon. He’d fallen asleep with her in his arms. Her absence is one of the first things he notices. At some point, he must’ve turned over and let go of her. Without opening his eyes, he reaches an arm out to feel for Mon with the intention of pulling her back to him. But his hand meets the cool sheets. He stretches out further and brushes his hand up and down for any sign of her. The bed is empty. Krennic’s eyes shoot open. The covers are pulled back on her side of the bed, the sheets are wrinkled but there’s no other sign that she was ever there. Krennic listens for a moment in case she’s still in the apartment but it’s silent. He casts a glance at the chrono on his bedside table. It’s later than he normally wakes and he suspects later than Mon would normally wake. She would be due at the Senate soon. Perhaps, she returned home to get cleaned up and changed into a new set of clothes. He cannot hold that against her even if he is annoyed that she left without waking him up. Krennic checks the time again and then rolls back over intending to go back to sleep when he spots something red and lacy against the black silk sheets. He smirks. Mon’s lacy underwear. The smirk widens, she’s returned home without any underwear, his cum on her thighs where it dripped out of her hours earlier. That image is enough to send a rush of blood to his cock. Perhaps he'll pay the Senate a visit later and return them to her; she'll be mortified, he suspects, her cheeks turning that beautiful shade of blush they do when she's embarrassed about something. Or perhaps he'll keep them as a souvenir of the first night she spent in his bed. The first of many more, once she finally agrees to their relationship. But first he needs to visit a friend of his.

Lio Partagaz has a routine he keeps almost like clockwork. And Orson knows it down to the minute, which is how he knows exactly where Partagaz will be at any time of the day, unless there's a crisis within the ISB. It's lunchtime when Krennic decides to track him down and Partagaz is in a cafe near the Senate District, its popularity making it a good location for the conversation they're about to have.

“Orson…” Partagaz says as Krennic approaches the table. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Orson takes a small metal device out of his pocket and places it down on the table. Partagaz recognises it at once: a listening device. An ISB listening device. He frowns. Where has it come from? Krennic isn’t under surveillance. 

“What am I looking at?” He asks.

“A listening device.” Krennic’s tone is almost sarcastic. How doesn't he recognise the devices whose use he signs off on? 

“I know it’s a listening device. Why are you showing me it?”

“This is the one I removed from Senator Mothma’s office.” Partagaz frowns. “I appreciate she’s under increased surveillance but I’ll be damned if junior ISB agents are going to listen to and monitor me fucking her in her office.” There’s an edge to his voice. It’s non negotiable. “So unless you want to be the one listening, these devices stay out of her office. Bug her home, have her driver reporting to you, have her movements watched, but her office is off limits.”

“Very well.” Lio concedes. “It’s not like we acquired much information from that one anyway.” At that Krennic frowns. It suggests the ISB has gained information from the device in Mon's office. He thinks back to the conversations they've had in her office, trying to remember if he’d given the ISB anything.

“Is there anywhere else we're not to surveil?” Partagaz asks, his tone clipped.

“I'll keep you updated.” Krennic's words are playful, the meaning passes between them without being said.

“It's going well then?” Lio asks and the two cross the line back to being friends.

“Early days.” Krennic shrugs, not wanting to give much away.

“Don't play coy, Orson. You forget how long I've known you. I was there that night.” Krennic shoots him a pointed look. That is a conversation they certainly don't need to have. He still remembers the fear that gripped him the night he saw her name written in black ink on the treasonous document. Fortunately, she came to her senses, swore loyalty to the Emperor and stayed away from further acts of treason in the years following.

“I only meant that I know how long you’ve wanted her.” His tone is placating. Krennic flexes his hand. Lio Partagaz is the only person who knows just how long Mon Mothma has held the affections of Orson Krennic.

“That is a secret you swore to take to the grave.” Krennic reminds him.

“And I will.” Partagaz concedes. “But whilst you're letting her into your bed, don't forget who she is.” There’s an edge to his words. Krennic narrows his eyes at the warning. Does Partagaz know something he doesn’t about Mon?

“Meaning?"

“Come Orson, you’re not that naive.” Partagaz sighs. “You know she’s still a thorn in the Emperor’s side.” At that, Orson chuckles. That’s his Mon.

“And you think fucking her would make me forget that?” There’s disbelief in Krennic’s tone. 

“Of course not.” Paratagz smiles at him. “I’m just reminding you that Senator Mothma is not to be trusted.” Krennic resists the urge to laugh. Bloody trust, again.

Krennic's leaving the cafe when he notices a familiar face. Mon. She's accompanied by her aide and appears to be heading in the direction of Galactic Antiquities and Objects of Interest. Krennic narrows his eyes. Why is she visiting the shop again? He considers stopping her and calling her over but decides against it. What he wants to say to her is not for other people to hear. Instead, he watches the interaction between the three of them, watches Mon's smile that doesn't meet her eyes, watches Luthen’s strained expression, watches the insincerity when she laughs at something he says. He purses his lips. Perhaps the relationship between the two isn't what he'd previously thought. But then he’s reminded of the night of Sculdun’s party, how close they seemed that night, their private conversations and how panicked they both were once they realised that he was one of the guests Davo invited to view the art collection. What were they up to that night? Was it more than just antiquities? That’s a relationship that is going to need to be monitored. The idea of Mon being involved in something she shouldn’t triggers a need to protect her that he doesn’t quite understand. Perhaps he’ll ask her about it when he sees her later but then he receives a message that derails those plans slightly and he’s forced to leave Mon with her antiquities dealer and return to his office without her ever knowing he was there.

Inside the shop, Luthen leads Mon into the back room before turning on her. Their conversation quickly turns to the rebellion when Mon mentions Yavin and her and Bail’s plans, which is the reason for her visit.

“Yavin?” Luthen asks, disbelief etched into his features. “You want to set up a rebel base on that godforsaken planet?”

“It’s not that bad.” Mon retorts, trusting in Bail’s intelligence.

“Yavin?” Luthen repeats.

“So it needs some work but you’ve been using it as a supply drop.” She reasons.

“Yes, because it’s useful for that. The Empire would never suspect it but you want to set up a base in the middle of a jungle?”

“Why not?”

“Well, I guess if you and Senator Organa and the rest are in agreement, there’s nothing else to be said.” Luthen retorts. “But it’s a stupid idea.”

“Then name another.” Mon challenges. “We can’t keep taking Saw’s approach. We need a proper organised rebellion if we are to have any chance of beating them and for that we need a central base, so name one.” At that Luthen doesn’t respond. “Exactly. So Yavin it is.”

“It won’t work.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you want it to fail.” She retorts.

“Of course, I don’t but how are you and Organa going to do anything from Coruscant?” Luthen asks. “The two of you cannot even have a conversation about it without risking being heard by the ISB.” At that, a smile spreads across her face. “What have you done?”

“Exactly as you told me.” Luthen narrows his eyes at her and then realisation washes over him.

“You didn’t? Have you any idea how dangerous that is!”

“Yes. But he’s already removed a listening device from my office.”

“This is a horrendous idea, more dangerous than trusting Kolma.” He warns her. Anger seeps through her at the mention of Tay. “You need to put an end to it.” Luthen’s suggestion of ending it makes Mon realise that she's yet to hear from Krennic after she snuck out in the early hours.

“It’s a bit late for that.” She seethes. “You should be happy. You now know what I’m prepared to sacrifice for the rebellion.” There’s a bitterness to her tone as she allows her anger to penetrate her words and then without allowing him to respond, she walks away from Luthen and out of the gallery. How dare he have an opinion about Yavin when he refuses to be a part of the conversations on it! How dare he tell her that it won’t be suitable! How dare he criticise her for Krennic! It was his idea in the first place! If Luthen hadn’t suggested giving Krennic what he wanted, she never would’ve had the idea to use Krennic for her own ends. She doesn’t blame him, of course she doesn’t. It was her idea but her idea stemmed from his suggestion. And after he acted alone in the Tay situation, what right does he have telling her what to do? Anger simmers in her veins as she heads back to the Senate.

Mon’s back at her office when she finally hears from Krennic. If she's being honest, she's surprised it took him that long. She'd expected him to message her as soon as he woke up alone or to turn up at her office to confront her over leaving him. But instead she hears nothing all day until the early evening when she receives a message from him.  

Darling, I've had to make an impromptu visit to Scarif.

Mon smiles at his use of the endearment. She's not quite sure why but she likes it. It's different to when Perrin calls her it; he says it almost as a habit, a testament to the length of the marriage and whilst she used to like it when he said it, it doesn't have the same effect now. But Krennic’s use of it is different, it feels nice. Mon curses herself. It shouldn't feel nice. She should be repulsed by it and yet she's not.

And then she frowns. What could he be doing on Scarif that requires his attention so last minute? The Imperial Center of Military Research is housed there but he's not involved in military research. And why now? Is it because she left this morning without telling him? Is this some sort of retaliation? Or is he playing games with her? Does he think that if he's away for a while, she will miss him so much that she'll agree to a relationship?

But then a second message comes through on her comms link. 

For future reference Mon, I would prefer it if you didn’t slip out of my bed without waking me up.

Mon doesn't know what to make of the message. Is he annoyed at her for doing it? The tone would suggest that he is but Krennic isn’t one to avoid a confrontation when he feels wronged. So perhaps he isn’t annoyed. But the sudden departure and without saying goodbye to her beforehand suggests that perhaps he is annoyed at her and that leaves her with an odd feeling, one that she can’t quite place. There’s been a lot of that recently as the lines blur each time she and Krennic are intimate and she finds herself hoping that she doesn't lose herself in the blur. She cannot afford to, not when there's so much at stake. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

Director Orson Krennic has been cooped up in the mountain lodge in the Maltheen Divide with the Ghorman special project team for three days working on the final details of the plan for the submission of Ghorman when the urgent message reaches him. He’s all but forced from the room by his Chief of Staff, Berik. Supervisor Meero is delivering a progress report on the creation of a rebel group of Ghor people when Orson’s Chief of Staff barges into the room. Normally his response at being interrupted would be swift and harsh but the expression on his Chief of Staff’s face suggests that there is a very good reason for the intrusion. Krennic instructs Meero to continue, then he lifts his gloved hand and with one finger, gestures for his Chief of Staff to approach him. Berik walks to Orson with some speed, again suggesting the urgency of whatever it is that he needs to tell Orson. He stops behind Krennic’s chair and leans down close to his ear so that only Director Krennic will hear his words.

“There’s an alert from Senate Security.” At that, Krennic’s blood runs cold. As Berik made his way over, he’d continued to listen to Meero’s report but now, he cannot hear a single word she’s saying. Orson rises from his seat. Meero stops speaking and the rest of the group turns to him.

“Continue.” Krennic instructs, his voice gruff. He steps away from the long conference table and gestures for Berik to follow him over to the corner of the room. 

“Did they say what happened?” He tries to keep his voice quiet to prevent anyone from hearing his words. 

“A break in.” Panic washes over Krennic as he thinks of all possible scenarios.

“Was she there?” The fear in his voice is palpable. 

Berik shakes his head. “I don’t have any more information. Russ has asked for more details but can’t get a response from Senate Security.” Kriff. He doesn’t have access to her schedule yet, her team is being difficult about it, so doesn’t know if she’s supposed to be in the Senate today. 

“Have someone reach out to her team. If you don’t get a response from her team, try her. I’ll wrap this up. Get the ship ready to leave in an hour.” Berik nods at the instructions and then he’s leaving the room. Krennic re-takes his seat at the table. Meero has finished speaking and the two from the Ministry of Enlightenment are briefing the group on the final parts of the propaganda plan to ensure that the galaxy isn’t outraged at what is to come.

“Gentlemen, let’s pick up the pace. I need to return to Coruscant as a matter of urgency.”

Within an hour, he's on his shuttle and departing for the capital.​​ The rest of the Ghorman team are staying to iron out the details and he’s left Partagaz in charge of that, the man can be trusted without question. The others have too much career ambition in them to be trusted to lead the group in his absence. If Lio suspects the reason for Krennic’s sudden departure, he doesn’t say a word. And Orson’s grateful for it. He knows that rushing back to Coruscant is probably not the course of action he should be taking, he should be staying to oversee the final plans but the last hour has proven the futility in that: he’s barely heard a word anyone has said and the ones he’s heard, he hasn’t processed their meaning. Staying would be a waste of time, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate until he knew she was okay. Berik still hasn’t heard from her team, Senate Security haven’t responded to Russ and Orson’s messages to her have gone unanswered. There’s a heavy feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach and he cannot shake the feeling that she was caught up in the break in and has been injured or worse. He pushes those thoughts out of his head and tries not to think of her but he can’t help himself. Ever since that first kiss, he’s been craving her and then they had sex and the possibility of doing it again consumed his thoughts and then she spent her first night in his bed and his sheets smelled of her, traces of her perfume polluting the black silk until the sheets were washed. He’d been reluctant to change them, wanting to keep her scent as long as he could but then he had to leave for the Ghorman conference and he’d instructed his staff to wash the bedding whilst he was away. Her scent on them is a symbol of something else, something more dangerous. She’d spent the night after having ‘dinner’ with him, in turn giving him a very real vision of what it will be like if she agrees to his proposal. And that is something he’s been struggling to keep out of his head. He sees it again as his shuttle speeds through hyperspace. But this time, it’s different; it’s not the mere memory of the evening spent together, it’s a variation of it. She’s waiting for him when he returns from Eadu, a vision wearing the dress she wore the first time they had sex and the dining table set for them. As soon as he steps through the glass doors of the apartment, she’s on him, her lips on his in a passionate kiss, one that has him wanting to forgo dinner and take her straight to bed. 

But, aware of the effect it might have on his body, he doesn’t allow the daydream to go any further. Instead, he powers up his datapad and checks the holonet for news of what happened. Nothing has been reported and he lets the silence give him hope that she’s okay. If she wasn’t, there would’ve been some sort of report, even if the facts weren’t completely true. But there’s no mention of it and so he clings to that for the rest of the short journey back to the capital. Once they reach Coruscant, the shuttle docks at his usual landing pad and he exchanges it for his speeder, which is waiting for him on arrival.

“Director Krennic, I’m sorry to hear about the Senator.” Orson’s driver says as he gets into the speeder, Berik accompanying him. Orson shoots a glance at his chief of staff, who shrugs his shoulders.

“What do you mean you’re sorry to hear about her?” Krennic demands. “There haven’t been any reports of her not being okay.”

“Oh no… I didn’t mean… I just meant that I was sorry to hear it happened to her, she doesn’t deserve it.” Krennic frowns at that. What is his driver babbling on about?

“Doesn’t she?” He asks, pushing the driver to say more.

“No, she’s so lovely.” A pang of jealousy shoots through him at the words. How does his driver know she’s lovely?

“I didn’t realise you knew her.” He doesn’t even attempt to keep the bitterness from his words.

“Oh, I don’t. But the night I drove her home, we chatted and she was lovely.” Krennic narrows his eyes at that. There could only be one night he’s referring to but Krennic thought she’d slipped away the morning after to freshen up before work. His driver is suggesting that isn’t the case at all and she actually left in the middle of the night. Annoyance stirs in him. That is something he will need to speak to her about. Perhaps all is not what he thought and she isn’t as accepting of things as he’d believed her to be. Why would she just leave like that? When exactly did she leave? She used his speeder without his consent, Orson quite likes her boldness but he’s surprised that his driver didn’t check with him first before taking her home. What could the two of them possibly have spoken about on the drive to her apartment? The thought of her conversing with his driver makes him feel uncomfortable. 

“Just drive.” Krennic barks.

The express lane is quiet as they speed through the streets of Coruscant to the Federal District, Krennic continuing to scan the holonet for any news available. Beside him, Berik is trying to get a response to his messages from either her team or Senate Security but neither are having much luck. Still, it gives Krennic something to do to pass the time instead of fixating on his driver’s revelations about her. The drive to the Senate building is a short one. Krennic instructs the driver to park at the landing pad closest to her office and just as soon as the speeder has come to a stop, he steps out of it, barking instructions at Berik to head to their office and check on the report he’s expecting on another project.

The first thing he notices as he storms through the plaza and into the Senate is that the building looks perfectly normal which means that whatever has happened, it’s localised. Orson reaches the turbo lift and hits the call button, more aggressively than he intended. When it doesn’t come immediately, he presses the button again and again. He taps his foot on the ground and debates whether the stairs would be quicker. He’s just about to abandon the turbo lift and resort to climbing up numerous flights of stairs when it finally arrives. The doors hiss open to reveal a crowded lift. Krennic doesn’t give its occupants time to vacate, just forces himself into the lift as people try to get out and presses the button to her floor. The doors start to close as a woman is still exiting the lift. Fortunately, they sense her presence and bounce back, allowing her to safely vacate before closing again. Krennic can’t bring himself to feel bad that a woman nearly got stuck in the doors and he would be to blame. His entire focus is on her.  

It only takes a minute for the lift to reach her floor. It pings and then the doors slide open. Orson’s already out of the lift and half way down the corridor before the doors have opened fully. Why does her office have to be at the end of the corridor, he thinks as he races down it. The first thing he notices when he reaches his destination is that the door is open wide. Krennic has never arrived at her office to find the door open, not even when the office is fully staffed. He crosses the threshold of her offices and then stills. The place has been trashed. Files are scattered across the floor. The chair Erskin forced him to sit in whilst they waited for her to come back from the late night vote is turned on its side halfway across the floor and the contents of Erskin’s desk have been knocked off and lie amongst the mess. That’s the only word he can use to describe the sight before him. A mess. And in the midst of it, stands Mon. She’s in the doorway to her office, her back to him. Krennic can see the tension in her shoulders, neck and at the base of her spine. He wants to go over to Mon, put his hands on her and gently knead the tension from her body. But he doesn’t. She’s talking to someone from Senate Security. Their location and his knowledge of Mon’s privacy suggests that her office is worse than the outer room. He watches for a while, notes the exhaustion in her bones and then takes small measured steps towards her. At the sound of his steps, Mon turns her head just slightly, offering him the first glimpse of her face. It takes him by surprise. Frown lines are etched into her forehead, fear is seeped into every pore. This is a side of Mon he’s never seen before. He wants to reach out to her, to take her in his arms and tell her that everything will be okay. Instead, he offers her a soft smile.

“Has anything been taken?” The man from Senate Security asks her, taking her attention away from Krennic.

“With all the mess, it’s difficult to say. We’ll have to go through everything.” Fatigue drips from her words. 

“Any ideas who could’ve done this?” At first, Mon doesn’t answer. She’s got a very clear idea of who could’ve done this. They have been monitoring her for so long now that she can’t even remember when she became a target of ISB surveillance. But she hasn’t been arrested yet which makes her think it isn’t the ISB. She’s not sure that’s the better option, in truth. At least, if it was the ISB, she would know it was the ISB. If it’s not, it could be anyone.

“No.” She responds, she can hear the weakness in her voice.

“Perhaps it’s political?” Erskin suggests. Krennic can’t see him. “Senator Mothma is unpopular with certain groups and she did vote against the bill tonight.” That’s news to Krennic but then he was too busy with the Ghorman developments to be paying attention to the legislation working its way through the Senate.

“So did one hundred other senators but none of them had their offices broken into.” Mon retorts but there’s no fight in it.

“I don’t imagine any of them had their comms link stolen earlier today.” Erskin fires back. Krennic watches the two with a mild curiosity. Are they always this informal or is the stress of the situation and the lateness of the hour filtering into their interactions?

“We don’t know it was stolen.” At that, Krennic frowns. A missing comms link and a ransacked office are too much to be a coincidence. Mon’s been targeted by someone and he intends to find out who by. He steps away from the conversation for a moment and puts a call into the ISB. Krennic suspects that Mon will not be particularly thrilled about it but finding out whose targeting her requires a skill set that Senate Security don’t possess. And, if it keeps her safe, he’ll take the push back he’s likely to get from her. He rejoins the conversation, Erskin is now in view, by Mon’s desk and appears to be attempting to tidy up. Krennic casts a glance around the room. It’s devastating. Whatever the culprit was looking for, they believed it to be in Mon’s office. 

“When did you last have your comms link?” The security officer asks her.

“I don’t know. I noticed it missing around lunchtime but that doesn’t mean I had it just before then.” Frustration etches its way into her voice. 

“Did you have it before you went to your committee meeting?” 

“I don’t know.” Mon repeats.

“Why didn’t you report it stolen?”

“Because I don’t know that it has been stolen.” Mon repeats, her tone is tense. She’s starting to get irritated by the questions.

“Why didn’t you report it missing?”

Mon lets out a breath. “Because it is possible that I left it in my office. I didn’t know either way. All I know is that when I returned to my office after my meeting, it wasn’t on my wrist.” Frustration is simmering away and if he asks her one more idiotic question, it might implode. But then there is a comforting presence at her back. She turns her head. Orson is standing behind her, his hand on her lower back, running calming circles at the base of her spine.

“Might I suggest you check the security tapes.” Krennic forces himself into the conversation. The security man frowns. Yes, this is definitely beyond the skill set of Senate Security. “They’re likely to have images of the perpetrator.” He elaborates. It takes a moment for realisation to wash over the security officer.

“You’re right.” Krennic resists the urge to laugh at the idiocy of the man in front of him.

“Perhaps, you should do that now.” Krennic suggests, doing his utmost to get this man out of Mon’s presence before she loses it with him. “You might want to have it done before you hand the case over to the ISB.” At that, Mon frowns; it suggests Krennic isn’t here in a professional capacity. It shouldn’t surprise her really, after all security isn’t his field. Panic washes over the security officer. And then he nods frantically before calling over his colleague. The two exchange a whispered conversation and then look over at Krennic.

“Don’t worry about the crime scene being contaminated.” He offers. “Your droid is taking photos. Senator Mothma clearly didn’t break into her own office, nor did her aide and I was not on Coruscant when it happened but all three of us have been in this office regularly, so our biometrics will be everywhere.” The two members of Senate Security share a look and then one of them speaks.

“Very well, Director Krennic. You are temporarily in charge of the crime scene. No-one enters and no-one leaves.” And with that, the two of them are gone, leaving Krennic with Mon and Erskin.

“I see they sent the pride of Senate Security.” It’s meant to be a joke to lighten the mood but Mon doesn’t laugh. Krennic steps around her, his hand moving from her back to her waist. He studies her face, notes the unshed tears, the lingering fear behind her expression, her slightly puffy eyes, the small black smudges of mascara. This break in has affected her more than he realised.

“What are you doing here?” Mon asks and she sounds broken. A frown crosses his expression at her question. That is not what he’d been expecting her to say.

“Senate Security told me there’d been a break in.”

Mon frowns. “They told you ?”

“I have an alert on you. I get notified if anything happens.” Krennic shrugs. “Not quite how I would’ve wanted you to find out but there we are.” Mon doesn’t know whether to be flattered by it or annoyed. 

“You were on Scarif.” Mon frowns. “How did you get here so fast?” It would be impossible for him to get from Scarif to Coruscant in the time since she had discovered the break in and alerted security. 

“I wasn't on Scarif.” Krennic’s tone is blunt. “Let’s get you home.” Mon’s too tired to dwell on his quick change of the subject. 

“I can’t.”

“Mon…”

“I need to tidy up.” She gestures to the mess. “And there has to be someone here.” Krennic frowns. “The door is broken.” 

“We’ll get it fixed.” He assures her.

“They said it would be tomorrow before they can get here.” Krennic can hear the fatigue in her voice and he just wants to take her home and put her to bed. But, unless he takes her to his place, that’s not his role. 

“Erskin…” Mon calls. Her aide comes through into the larger room. “You can go home.”

“I’ll just finish what I’m doing.” She doesn’t have the energy to fight with him over it. Krennic senses that she’s starting to flail from the stress and exhaustion. But he knows her well enough to know that in the absence of a working door, she’s planning on spending the night in her office. What Mon hasn’t realised is that he’s not going to allow her to do it. He lets go of her for a moment, stepping further into her office and surveying the damage. Mon uses the opportunity to walk past him to her desk and starts to pick up some of the trinkets from the floor, placing them back on the smooth oak. Orson watches as she does it and then makes a split second decision, one that he suspects she will hate but he does it anyway, taking out his comm link and sending a message. Then he walks to Mon, kneels in front of her, takes her hand in his and slowly raises her up. It’s in that moment that he sees the cracks in her mask. She’s just barely keeping it together. He wraps his arms around her in a tight embrace, one hand on her back, the other running through her hair. It’s oddly comforting and Mon feels herself start to crumble under the warmth of his touch. As he softly caresses her, she allows herself to shatter her with the fear of who’s broken into her office and what they’ve taken, the stress of all of her secrets and the comfort that Orson Krennic is giving her. She lets the tears she’s been keeping at bay for so long finally fall. As he feels her crying, her body moving against his chest, Krennic pulls her tighter against him. In that moment, he admits to himself how he feels about her and makes a promise to himself that his earlier vision will become a reality.

“Senator…” The idiot from Senate Security has returned with a data pad in his hand. Mon steps back from Krennic, tear tracks running down her cheeks.

“Do you know who this is?” He hands the datapad to Mon. She takes it from him. On the screen is an image from the security footage. It’s the corridor outside of her office and in it is a man she recognises. Mon tries to keep her expression blank.

“No. I’ve never seen him before.” She lies. She knows exactly who it is. Well, she doesn’t know his name but she knows he works for Luthen. And that is terrifying because that suggests that he’s behind the ransacking of her office. Is this because of Yavin? Is it because she and Bail are finally doing what they’ve been talking about for nearly two decades and they don’t need Luthen to do it? A sense of betrayal washes over her and settles in her heart. How could he?

Krennic takes the data pad from her and scrutinises the image. “I suspect,” He says, a slight amusement to his tone. “If you hand the image over to the ISB officers who are on their way here, they will know exactly who he is.”

“I don’t understand…” Mon frowns.

“He’s a rebel.” Krennic’s tone is blunt. He hands the data pad back to the security officer.

“Why would the rebels target me?” Mon exclaims, hoping her performance is believable.

“You’re a high ranking senator.” Krennic shrugs. “Perhaps they thought you had some intel they could use. Perhaps they’re planning an attack and thought you have information that would help.” 

The way he says it, suggests that Krennic knows more than he’s letting on and Mon wonders if he’s talking about his ‘energy project’. Why would the rebels trash her office to get information on the ‘energy project’ unless there is more to it than Krennic has told her? Of course, that isn’t the reason. This is Luthen sending her a message, but if Krennic thinks that could be a possibility, he has reason to suspect the rebels would target his project. Tonight’s not the night to push him for more information on that but she will at a later date. 

Before she can respond, two figures in black appear in the doorway to Mon’s office. Death troopers. It’s the first time she’s seen Krennic’s guard squadron in person. A sense of unease settles in Mon as she realises the highly trained killers could become a regular occurence in her life. 

“Your only purpose for the next 24 hours is guard that door.” Krennic points at the door to the corridor, the door the two figures have just walked through. “The. Only. People. Allowed into this office are myself, Senator Mothma and her aide.” Krennic gestures to Erskin. “When the ISB finally sends some officers to investigate the break in, they are not permitted to enter without my authorisation.” Krennic’s voice is quiet as he gives the order, quiet but powerful and it stirs something in Mon. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, Director.” They say in unison.

“What about them?” One of his guard squadron asks, pointing to the Senate Security officers. Krennic had forgotten they were there.

“Don’t worry about them. The ISB will be taking over the investigation.” His death troopers nod at him and then the two of them are standing sentry outside of her door. 

“Mon… you can trust them.” Krennic says, his voice firm. “They have sworn their lives in service to me. The only way anyone unauthorised will get into your office until the door is repaired will be if both of them end up dead.” She knows it’s meant to be reassuring but it’s not. He reaches up to touch her cheek. 

“Senator…” Erskin interrupts them. “Am I okay to go home now?”

“Of course. I’ll see you in the morning.” She smiles at him. “We’ll cancel my meetings and spend the day sorting through everything, working out if anything is missing.”

“Very good.” Erskin responds, aware of who’s with them but then as he passes Mon, he reaches out and squeezes her arm. “Try and get some sleep.” He smiles at her. She returns it and then he’s gone.

“You ready to go?” Krennic asks her softly, the back of his hand stroking her cheek.

“I think so.”

“Tomorrow we’ll replace your comm link, get your office sorted and speak to the ISB but for now, let's get you home.” Mon simply nods before stepping out of his embrace and collecting her coat and datapad. Krennic takes her hand, entwining their fingers and Mon doesn’t fight him on it. As they leave her office, he stops to speak to his death troopers and gives them instructions on what to do when the ISB officers eventually turn up. And then he’s leading Mon back down the corridor, to the stairs (and not the lift, given their recent history), to the landing pad and his speeder. Orson notes the smile that creeps onto his driver’s face when he sees Mon and resists the urge to make a comment as they get in, the driver shutting the door behind them.

There’s a heavy silence between the two of them as the speeder makes its way through the late night Coruscanti traffic. Krennic places his hand on Mon’s and gently caresses her skin with his thumb. It’s their only interaction. After her breakdown in his arms, her walls have slowly been rebuilt and he doesn’t want to push her away. This has to be on her terms. So he allows her, her silence. 

“I thought you were taking me home.” Mon says as the speeder comes to a stop on the landing pad at Krennic’s apartment.

“Do you want me to?” He asks her. Tonight he’s not going to even try to influence her decision. Tonight, she’s in control of everything. Mon takes a moment before she responds. Does she want to go home? Leida and Perrin will be there. Does she want his comfort? Would he even offer her it? She’s not sure. She casts a glance at Krennic. There’s worry etched into every line on his face. Perhaps she’s where she’s supposed to be.

“No.” She breathes. Her voice is so quiet, as though she’s scared to hear herself say it. “But I should call Perrin so he knows I’m okay.” Tonight, even the mention of her husband doesn’t irritate him.

“Why don’t you call him from the speeder and I’ll run you a bath?” Krennic offers; that conversation is one she needs to do on her own. Mon is nowhere close to being ready to lie to her husband in his presence; she will reach that stage later in their affair but for now, she needs privacy and he will give her it.

He exits the speeder, walks the short distance to the apartment and pushes the button to unlock the doors. The sensor scans him, recognises him and the glass doors slide open. He sets them to open so that Mon can just walk in when she’s ready and then heads to the fresher. Krennic takes off his cape and leaves it on the dining table as he passes. Then he unfastens his tunic and removes it, dumping it in the wash basket on his way to the bathroom. 

Once there, he rolls up his sleeves, undoes the top few buttons of his shirt and turns the hot tap on. His hands pause on the temperature control panel. Does she prefer scalding water in a bath or would she rather it was more lukewarm? He’s not sure but opts for very hot. By the time she’s finished speaking to Perrin, it will have cooled a bit. If she doesn’t run again. Krennic tries to ignore the doubt he has, but it’s difficult. Mon has repeatedly run from him, even after the two times they’ve had sex. But this is different, he tells himself as he selects the bubbles for bath. He offered to take her home and she said no. Orson watches the water cascade into the bath where it mixes with the pink floral bubble bath (a remnant of a previous lover) and then decides they could probably both use a drink. He heads into the kitchen, finds two wine glasses and grabs the first bottle of wine he sees. It isn’t Chandrilan; they drank his only bottle the last time she was there. But wine is wine and they’ll have to make do unless she wants something stronger. Once the wine is poured, he returns to the bathroom, both glasses in hand. The bath is filling up nicely and he takes a drink of wine, placing Mon’s on the floor beside him as he sits on the side of the bath. As he watches the water, Orson allows himself to think of the last few hours, of the progress they seem to have made, of the way in which Mon finally allowed herself to be vulnerable in front of him. Whilst he wants to exact pain on the rebel that has caused Mon such distress, he also is grateful that it has closed the distance between the two of them.

He’s still thinking about it, the bath nearly full, when he hears the locking mechanism of the front door, followed by soft footsteps. Mon.

“Orson…” She calls out to him and he smiles. He loves the sound of his name coming from her lips.

“In here.” He calls, shutting off the water and the bubbles.

Mon gasps at the sight that awaits her in the fresher. Orson is perched on the side of the bath, glass of wine in hand, shirt sleeves rolled up, his hair slightly unkempt and a mountain of bubbles pouring out from the bath beside him. It’s so domestic and she doesn’t quite know what to make of it or what to make of the Orson she’s seen that evening.

“You ready?” He asks her softly, holding out the glass of wine to her. “It’s not Chandrilan, I’m afraid. If I’d known I'd have a house guest, I would’ve ordered some.”

“Perhaps you should…” She responds. “Order some.” Orson doesn’t allow himself to analyse the meaning in her words. Mon takes a sip of the wine.

“Maybe I will, if I can be certain my guest won’t slip out in the middle of the night.” There’s a playfulness to his words. He had intended to broach the subject in a more serious tone but after the day she’s had, he decided against it. Mon ignores it, she’s not mentally prepared for that conversation.

“I’m ready.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

The whisper of Krennic’s fingers across her stomach lulls Mon, the way the sun of Chandrila feels against her face on a warm summer’s day. It’s soothing and yet slightly unsettling. They’re laying in Krennic’s bed, exhaustion seeping into her bones and neither one of them quite ready to address the bantha in the room. Mon told him she was ready, she just didn’t specify what for: the bath or starting an affair with him. He hasn’t pushed her on it and for that she’s grateful. Mon doesn’t quite have an answer for him. The events of the last twenty four hours have shifted something between them, the ground no longer feels solid and she’s not entirely sure what happens next. Is this the beginning of the affair? Or has she simply sought comfort in his arms because he’s the only one offering it? She knows that’s unfair on Perrin, she didn’t give him the chance but it was Krennic who rushed to her office, it was Krennic who was there in the immediate aftermath, it was Krennic who put death troopers on guard at the door to her office so that she could at least try and get some sleep. Where was Perrin? When she lied and told him she would be staying late at the Senate to start the clean up, he didn’t offer to help her or to keep her company. Maybe she only allowed Krennic to comfort her because there was no-one else and for the first time in a very long time, she couldn’t hold herself together anymore. Maybe the stress of everything finally reached breaking point. Maybe the nearly two decades of faked loyalty and feigned compliance and secrets, oh the secrets, have finally overwhelmed her. At least none of them were exposed this evening, she reminds herself. Luthen’s betrayal may burn like the heat of a blaster wound but at least she knows that her secrets are safe, for now. He can’t sell her out to the ISB without implicating himself and bringing the whole network crashing down around him and the knowledge of that affords her some security.

Krennic places a soft kiss to her temple. Even that feels uncertain. Everything feels uncertain. What does she do now? By affording Krennic tonight, by showing him a level of vulnerability, she’s put herself on a trajectory that she might not be able to get off. How does she pull back now? How does she reassert the distance between them? Is it even possible? And if it’s not, does she give him what he wants?

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” He asks her. Mon stiffens slightly.

“I’m wondering why the silk.” She lies. Krennic laughs.

“Why not?” Mon resists the urge to roll her eyes. “I told you that you’d enjoy the feel of them against your skin.” As he speaks, his hand moves slowly down her bare stomach but stops short. He won’t initiate anything tonight. If Mon wants it, he won’t say no but she’s the one in control. He won’t take advantage of her to satisfy his own desires.

“Is it not a fire hazard?” Mon remarks, searching for something, anything to say.

“Don’t get me wrong Mon, you’re hot but I don’t think we need to worry about a fire.” Krennic retorts, his hand on her hip. This time, Mon does roll her eyes. “By the way, I have something of yours.”

“Mine?” She frowns. And then realisation washes over her: her panties.

“Yes, you left it behind when you slipped out in the dead of night.” Dread pools in Mon’s stomach at that. They haven’t addressed it yet and she was hoping they wouldn’t. How does she explain the reason for it? 

“It was the morning.” Mon tries to justify it.

“That’s not what my driver said.” There’s a trace of bitterness in his words and Mon thinks she’s hurt him.

“We didn’t go to bed till midnight.” She reasons. Walking the tightrope between the role she’s playing and the real her is becoming increasingly difficult. Perhaps Luthen was right and she’s taking too much of a risk.

“Touche.” Krennic concedes, a smile on his lips.

“You have a nice bath.” Mon says, trying to change the subject.

“Bath?” Krennic frowns. “That’s not what I was expecting you to say but yes, I suppose I do.” 

“What were you expecting me to say?” She casts a glance at him. 

“Mon, there are many ways you could’ve ended that sentence.” Desire flashes in his eyes. “Complimenting my bath is probably the least likely of them.” Mon lets a silence fall on them and for the first time since they started whatever this is, it’s not an awkward silence. There’s a comfort in it and Mon lets herself relax, lets her mind switch off and her body wind down, Krennic’s fingers still skirting her stomach. She’s slowly drifting off to sleep when Krennic’s voice jolts her awake.

“So, are we going to talk about it?”

“What?” Her voice is heavy with fatigue.

“Whether we’ve managed to narrow the issues and reach an agreement.” Of course, he couldn’t let it go just for tonight. Mon lets out a deep breath.

“Orson, I’m married. I can’t just walk away from all of that to be… what, your mistress?” She retorts, fake shock lacing her voice. If Mon didn’t have an ulterior motive, she would’ve reacted in exactly that way.

“I don’t want you to be. I’ve told you what I want.” Frustration seeps from his words. 

“So what? I just leave my marriage and move in here?” She raises an eyebrow at him. He cannot be serious. She’s an Imperial Senator from a traditionally conservative planet. It would be political suicide.

“No. We… I guess the word is date… I take you to dinner, the opera house, other romantic things I can think of and the nights I’m on Coruscant, you are here, where you belong .”

“We date? And when images of that reach the holonet and my constituents back home and I find myself facing a recall, what then?” The disbelief in her voice is genuine. She might be making plans with Bail but until they come to fruition, she's still a senator and she has to remain a senator, otherwise the little remaining power she does have will be nonexistent. If the cause is to have any weight and credibility, she has to protect her reputation until they’re ready.

“Mon, you’re forgetting who I am and the power I hold. Our little relationship will never make the gossip rags on the holonet, if you don’t wish it to.”

“Little relationship?” She raises an eyebrow. There would be nothing little about it, it would be scandalous.

“Yes, relationship.” He chooses to focus on that word and not the true object of her ire. “I’m a very powerful man.” It’s almost a whisper against her ear. “Some women would find it a turn on.” He’s teasing her, trying to provoke a reaction from her.

“Perhaps you’d prefer to have one of them in your bed.” Mon offers, sitting up. The black silk sheets fall from her body. Krennic gently grabs her wrist and applies a gentle pressure.

“There’s only you, Mon.” His voice is almost harsh. He leans forward and presses a kiss to her shoulder. 

“Even if I don’t find your power a turn on.” She doesn’t look at him when she says it. She’s too scared of the emotions she might find in his gaze. Krennic chuckles.

“That’s of no significance, you’re a powerful senator, after all.” He shrugs. “Besides,” His lips are back next to her ear. “I don’t think I’ll have any trouble seducing you.” And then his free hand snakes around her body, under her silk chemise to her breast. He cups it firmly. Mon tries to ignore the tingling that erupts across her skin. “Your body just melts under my touch.”

Mon doesn’t respond. She starts to push herself up off the bed when Krennic tightens his grip on her wrist. “Where are you going?”

“For a glass of water.” Mon lies. “Is that permitted?” She turns back to him, an eyebrow raised. Krennic smirks. Kriff, he loves it when she challenges him.

“As long as you don’t disappear into the night.” There’s a playfulness laced beneath the words but Mon suspects he’s being serious. It’s the third time he’s mentioned it and she’s starting to think he was quite deeply affected by it. Does he see it as a rejection? She hadn’t meant it to be, she was just overwhelmed by the intimacy of it all.

“Do I need to apologise for that?” She asks. A moment of awkwardness passes between them. His answer could define the relationship between them. Mon takes in a breath as she waits for him to decide whether it’s going to be an issue. If he decides it is, it will result in the laying of an uneasy foundation, even if she apologises, one that they will struggle to overcome.

“No.” Krennic relents. “Just don't do it again. A guy could take it personally.” Mon laughs. 

“I'm sure your ego would survive it.”

“Maybe.” He reasons. “But…” His voice is teasing. “My heart might not.” Mon rolls her eyes.

“They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Her tone is sarcastic. Krennic laughs. Kriff, he loves sparring with her. There's never a dull moment.

“Speaking of, I have to return to Scarif tomorrow. I expect an answer on my return to Coruscant.” At that, Mon frowns. He’d told her that he wasn’t on Scarif. If he wasn't on Scarif, where was he? And if he was on Scarif, what was he doing there, why did he lie and how did he get back to Coruscant so quickly? 

“Scarif?” She questions.

“Yes.” There's something about the way he says it, the expression on his face that suggests he's not being honest with her. But how does she accuse him of lying? This peace they find themselves in is tenuous at best. Does she risk it?

“How long will you be gone?” 

“Are you going to miss me?” A smirk pulls at his lips. The conversation has taken an unexpected turn and she's not quite sure how to feel about it. They've slipped into a flirtation reminiscent of lovers. How did that happen? When did this become more than just sex?

“No, I'm just wondering how long I have to turn you down.”

“You won't.” There's a certainty to his words. “Do you know how I know?” And then his lips are on her neck. The mark he left previously has started to fade and he's determined for it to be there as long as possible. There's a sharp inhale of breath from Mon. And Krennic notes that if he ever needs to use her body against her, that's the place to do it.

“Orson…” Mon breathes. “Can I get some water?” He lifts his lips from her skin.

“Of course. Mon, you don't need to ask.” That's not what she meant but she lets it slide when he loosens his grips enough for her to slip out of his hold easily and climb out of the bed.

“Do you want anything?” Krennic flashes her a smouldering look. 

Mon rolls her eyes at the predictability of it. She's quickly learning that if he could, he'd fuck her over and over. But tonight's been different. It's been tender. Aside from a few almost innocent caresses, he barely touched her whilst she was in the bath. He perched on the edge of the tub, facing her, a glass of wine in his hand, just talking to her. Having him keep watch was slightly unnerving but there was a concern to it, as though he was worried she might break down again. She cannot deny he cares for her, cannot deny that he doesn't just want sex. And then when she'd washed the stress of the day from her skin, he gave her privacy to get dried off and changed whilst he ordered them some food. She'd been wearing a silk chemise and panties set underneath her dress so she put that on, the only suitable option for sleep, and went to find him. His eyes widened when they landed on her, standing before him in the black lingerie but he didn't touch her. He didn't touch her through dinner, didn't touch her when they sat out on his small balcony with a glass of wine, didn't touch her when they decided it was time for bed. 

It wasn't until they were under the covers that he finally let his hands brush her skin and then he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to him, his hand skimming her stomach. That's how they spent the evening and whilst Mon is glad they didn't have sex, the intimacy of him holding her like that is unnerving. It's why she hadn't wanted to stay, the evening that he asked her to. It's why she kept him at arms length for so long because the hands touching her so delicately are the same hands that have done terrible things for the Empire. Mon shuts down that line of thinking before her thoughts end up falling down the rabbit hole of Malpaz and what he did there in the name of the Empire.

There's a chill in the air as she steps into the kitchen, the light sensors tracking her movements and illuminating the apartment for her. Her eyes scan the kitchen, taking in every inch of it and then passing judgment on it. She suspects that it's not the main kitchen his staff use, more of a kitchenette in case he wants something when the staff are off duty. And then she stops, horrified. What is she doing? Why is she thinking about his lifestyle? Because you might become a part of it, a small voice tells her. She quickly shuts it down. He’s giving her time to think about it and right now, she’s not in a position to make a decision on whether she wants what he’s offering. She pushes all thoughts of it out of her mind and focuses on the task at hand: finding a glass. Mon opens the cupboard above her head but is unsuccessful. The second cupboard she tries doesn’t contain glasses either but what looks like a data file. Mon frowns, what is it doing hiding in that cupboard? What’s on it? Are there more he’s hiding? Suddenly, an idea forms in her mind. She casts a glance back to the bedroom door, it’s still shut. She can’t do anything with the data file, he’d notice if it disappeared but he might have documents laying around. The opportunity is too good to pass up and she might not get another one. She starts with the drawers, reasons that they’re more likely to store information than the cupboards but none of them contain anything of note. So she turns her attention back to the cupboards. 

“You know, if you wanted to look through my cupboards, you could've just asked. But I suspect you'll find they're just like yours.” Mon's heart stops at the sound of his voice. How did he sneak up on her without her realising? She turns around to face him. 

“I was looking for a glass.” 

“Really?” Krennic steps towards her, stopping directly in front of her. Mon swallows. Krennic reaches a hand up to the cupboard behind her head. His gaze penetrates her. Mon looks away but her eyes fall on his bare chest. When did he remove his top? He’s so close to her. She can see the rise and fall of his chest. The toned muscles move as he breathes. Mon imagines herself leaving a trail of kisses down his torso.

“It might be worth remembering, I don't keep anything of note in the apartment.” He says, breaking her train of thoughts. He lowers his arm, the distance between it and the side of her face so small they’re almost touching. Mon resists the urge to grab his wrist, stopping his movements before brushing her lips against his arm. What is wrong with her? Before Krennic, she could go weeks without sex and it didn’t bother her. She pushes away that question, she doesn’t want to dwell on it, not when he’s caught her snooping and she doesn’t know what the consequences will be. 

With his free hand, Krennic reaches around Mon to turn on the tap, his arm almost trapping her. Mon swallows. With his other hand, he places the glass under the stream of running water. She’s caged in. Slowly, then all at once, she can feel herself losing control. The walls are closing in around her.

“Orson…” She breathes. At first, he thinks it is desire. “I’m… claustrophobic.” Krennic stills. He can hear the panic in her voice. It takes a moment for her words to register and then he pulls his arms back. The other he keeps under the tap until the glass fills. He hands it to her and turns the tap off. Mon slowly raises the glass to her mouth and takes a drink. It’s cold and the sensation allows her to ground herself and slow the panic attack that was threatening to start.

“I didn’t know.” There’s a tenderness to his voice. Mon closes her eyes, allows herself to focus on her breathing. And then she curses herself, she’s just exposed more of her vulnerabilities to him. But when she opens her eyes, Krennic is watching her, concern etched into his features. 

“Are you okay?” He asks her. She nods. And then she slips back into survival mode.

“I was looking for a glass.” Krennic doesn’t force the issue, doesn’t argue with her. He doesn’t mind her snooping, she wouldn’t find anything she’s not permitted to see. Perhaps he’ll leave some things laying around as a ruse. He messed up telling her that he hadn’t been on Scariff. He’d wanted her to understand that he had dropped everything as soon as he heard about the incident but in doing so, he revealed something he shouldn’t have. Mon’s intelligent, she’ll overanalyse what he said and start asking questions about where he was. At the start of the Ghorman project, he’d told the team that any security breaches would be brought to Palpatine’s attention and yet he’s the one unintentionally leaking information. 

“You ready to go back to bed?” He asks her, changing the subject. 

“Bed?”

“To sleep, Mon. You need to sleep.” There’s a commanding tone to his voice. She nods but doesn’t speak. Orson takes a step back and watches her. She finishes the glass of water, rinses the glass and then places it in the sink to be washed later. Krennic cannot ignore how right it looks, not her being in his kitchen but her being there, in his apartment. She offers him a small smile and steps towards him. He puts a hand on her waist and squeezes before brushing his lips against hers. Mon deepens the kiss. Krennic pulls back.

“Mon, let's not start something we won't finish.” And then he's leading her back to his bed.

Mon stirs from sleep. The sheets feel foreign against her skin and for a moment she’s not sure where she is. There's something heavy across her waist, a weight that seems to be holding her in place. She opens her eyes and her gaze immediately lands on black silk. She's in Krennic’s room and the weight across her waist is Krennic's arm. Waking up beside him has left her disoriented.

“Morning.” There’s a smile in his voice and he places a kiss to her shoulder. Krennic pulls her to him. She can feel him hard against her but he doesn't initiate anything.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“You can make breakfast?” She fails to keep the surprise out of her voice.

“No, I have staff for that.”

“I don't have time for breakfast.” If he's disappointed by her rejection, he keeps it to himself. “I need to go home and get changed.”

There’s a heavy silence between them as Krennic’s driver takes them to Mon’s apartment. Krennic had insisted on accompanying her and Mon didn’t have the energy in her to fight him on something else. But now he’s distant and Mon doesn’t quite know how to bridge the gap between them. Their tenuous peace is even more fragile than she’d realised and anything could shatter it. She suspects her refusal to stay for breakfast is what’s broken it this morning, suspects that Krennic feels as though she’s leading him on and she doesn’t mean to play with his feelings but it’s all just so complicated. Beside her, Krennic lets out a frustrated breath. Mon Mothma might be the hardest won woman in the entire galaxy. Every time he makes progress with her, she does something to press pause on it. They’ve had sex twice now, had dinner three times and she spent last night in his bed but this morning, she wouldn’t stay for breakfast. Every time he thinks she is finally his, she pulls away again. He’d been so certain that her answer upon his return to Coruscant would be ‘yes’ but now he’s not sure. And he can’t work out what the obstacle is. If it was her husband, she wouldn’t have stayed with him last night. If it was his position in the ISB, she wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of them, so what is it? Is it the conflict of interest created by her role in the Senate and his role in the ISB? He doubts it, Mon’s professional enough to not let that be an issue. Perhaps she’s just enjoying the chase but she doesn’t seem the type. He cannot fathom it, all he knows is that every time he thinks he’s on the cusp of getting what he wants, she pulls it away. Perhaps some time apart is exactly what they both need. 

When they get to her office, Erskin is already there, trying to sort out the mess around his desk but several ISB officers are repeatedly getting in his way as they gather evidence in their investigation. Mon stiffens. Her gaze flicks to the sentries at the door, the same two that Krennic had posted there the previous evening. Mon wracks her brain to make sure she doesn’t have anything in her office that could raise the suspicions of the ISB. She can’t think of anything. Surely if there is something, Erskin would have found it and destroyed it before the ISB arrived or Luthen’s guy would have been wise enough to take it with him when he left. Unless, of course, Luthen’s betrayal extends further than she thought and he wants her to get caught by the ISB. Mon pushes that thought aside, tells herself that Luthen wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t risk himself like that. They share a mutually assured destruction, are perhaps the only two in his entire network that do and Luthen wouldn’t be stupid enough to risk the Axis network for petty revenge.

“Don’t worry. I authorised it.” Krennic tells her, sensing her unease. It’s meant to be reassuring but instead it’s patronising and Mon realises she made a mistake in allowing herself to be vulnerable in front of him. 

“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” There’s a sharpness to her tone that surprises even her. Krennic narrows his eyes at her. Is her sudden coldness because they’re no longer in private? He purses his lips. He could insist on staying, force her to accept that he has no plans to walk away or he could leave her be and get ready for his return to Scarif. 

“There are numerous things that require my attention, if my assistance is no longer required.” If he’s hurt by her dismissal of him, he doesn’t show it. Mon doesn’t respond. “Very well.” Krennic exclaims and then he lowers his lips to her ear so that only she can hear his next words. “Remember, I expect your answer when I return to Coruscant.” And then he’s gone from her side. He stops to speak to his death troopers, who don’t seem to be leaving with Krennic and then he’s gone.

Mon spends the morning helping Erskin reorganising everything, making a note of anything that seems to be missing and answering the questions of the ISB investigating officers, who are starting to irritate her. With the realisation that it was the work of Luthen and Krennic finally giving her breathing space, she can focus on what matters and she's finally disembarked the emotional rollercoaster of the day before. By lunchtime, her offices look more like an office and less like a crime scene. She decides to slip out and pay Luthen a visit, it's safer now that Krennic isn't hanging around. His death troopers are still guarding her office but they don't leave it when she does.

“Senator…” Luthen smiles at him. Mon doesn’t return it. She doesn’t have the energy to pretend today.

“My office was broken into yesterday.” Luthen’s expression doesn’t change. “The Tinian piece I had on loan was damaged.” She lies, in case anyone is listening.

“I heard about the incident.” There’s something slimy about his tone. “I hope you’re okay.” Mon casts a quick glance around. They’re alone.

“This was you.” She seethes.

“Yes.” Mon almost laughs. Well, at least, he’s telling the truth for once. 

“You're not even going to try and deny it?”

“Why would I?”

“Well, at least you're taking credit for your work this time.” She huffs, the reference to Aldhani doesn’t go amiss. “What message were you trying to send?”

“Message?” Luthen frowns. “This was about protecting you.” At that, Mon laughs. The last time he was trying to protect her, Tay Kolma ended up dead.

“Protecting me?”

“Yes. If you and Organa are going to be stupid enough to plot treason on Coruscant, we need to ensure you’re not heard.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“My guy went in and searched for any bugs that your lover may not have removed.” Panic pools in Mon’s stomach. Surely, Krennic would’ve removed them all. But what if he didn’t? What if her and Bail were heard? How could she be that stupid?

“And, were there any?”

“No.” Unbelievable, she thinks.

“So, you just trashed my office for the fun of it.” Sarcasm drips from her words. “You might want to tell your guy to get the hell out of Coruscant, if he hasn’t already. The ISB has security footage of him.”

“He’s already gone. And Mon, this was about protecting you. If you had any links to the rebels, why would they break into your office and trash the place?” Mon narrows her eyes as she considers his words. Whether he was intending to protect her or protect his network, his actions have declared to the ISB that she has nothing to do with the rebels and that will afford her another level of protection. Her anger wanes slightly.

“And you didn’t think to warn me?”

“You’re not skilled enough of an actor to pretend you didn’t know about it.” The comment is almost insulting. She’s been successfully playing a role for nearly 20 years.

“At some point Luthen, you’re going to have to let someone in. You’re going to have to trust them, the only way any of this can work is through trust.” The conversation reminds her of the conversation she had with Saw years earlier. 

“The problem with trust is that it’s easy to break and in this game, broken trust costs lives.”  There’s a sadness to his words and for the first time ever, Mon pities him. He’s so paranoid, so wrapped in his web of secrets that he cannot afford to trust anyone, to share the load with anyone (except for Kleya), cannot open up to anyone and that must be incredibly lonely. She might share his secrets but she has Bail and for a time she had Tay, Luthen has no-one. 

“But you know that better than any.” He adds, as an after thought and Mon is overcome with the urge to strangle him for how easily he can make references to what he did to Tay.

“I need to contact Draven.” She says, changing the tone of the conversation.

“What does that have to do with me?” Mon lets out a breath and pauses a moment, letting her irritation fade away before she answers him.

“Your comms aren’t being monitored.” It’s so matter-of-fact that Luthen is almost surprised by it.

“The message?” He relents.

“Yavin.” 

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

Yavin. It’s one word said to one person and yet it seems to shift everything. It’s as though she was standing at a precipice and suddenly with that one word, she’s fallen off it. Her message to Draven is almost a call to arms and it triggers an outburst of activity. But it is an outburst of activity that leaves her isolated. Bail, under the pretence of returning to his family on Alderaan, has left Coruscant to try and help Draven create some sort of foundations of a base on Yavin IV. Mon doesn’t have the luxury of joining them. She’s under too much surveillance, some of which tends to follow her to Chandrila when she travels to her home world, and she needs to be on Coruscant for when Krennic returns, whenever that will be. If she’s not there, it will raise his suspicions and the monitoring of her movements means she cannot pretend she was on Chandrila.  She’s no clue when he will return, and so has no hope of travelling to Yavin with Bail and returning before he’s back. He left without saying goodbye and hasn’t contacted her since.  His death troopers remained behind when he left, guarding her office until the door was fixed and then, she suspects, joining him, wherever he is. Mon doesn’t know if she believes he’s on Scariff but his absence creates an unexpected void in her life.

She’s pained to admit it that she misses his dropping in on her unexpectedly, but it’s not until the night she’s at an event at the Zeltros Embassy and he’s not there to flirt with her or track her movements around the room as she mingles, that she realises just how much she misses him. That realisation is truly terrifying. Perrin attends the event with her but instead of enjoying his company, Mon is irritated by him and then she feels awful for it. It’s not Perrin’s fault that she’s missing Krennic. She laughs when she’s reminded of the comment she’d made to him about absence making the heart grow fonder. Mon can now say with some certainty that it’s true, not that she will ever admit that to him. If he asks, she’ll lie. But the realisation of it doesn’t make her miss him any less or make his absence any easier. She feels like a teenager with her first crush and it’s embarrassing that she’s pining after him in such a way but everything changed the night they spent together. The lack of contact from him is making it worse. She could reach out to him, of course, but she doesn’t want to look like she’s missing him. Besides he’s giving her time to make her decision, contacting him might lead him to believe that she’s made her decision early. But she hasn’t, not yet. So instead, she lets the silence between them grow and contents herself with the memory of his touch. The problem with that is the memory isn’t enough to satisfy her, she needs him. And as the silence stretches between them, the need gets worse. He infiltrates her dreams; when she’s bored during a committee hearing, he’s in her daydreams; when Perrin tries to seduce her, it’s Krennic she sees. 

Krennic’s been gone nearly three weeks when the desire for him finally drives her to distraction. She’s in the Senate chamber listening to a debate on new agriculture control measures when it becomes too much for her. Senator Pamlo is making an impassioned speech on why they shouldn’t allow further controls when Mon feels Krennic’s lips on her neck. She turns around but there’s no-one behind her. She laughs to herself. But then she feels it again. Mon reaches a hand up to her neck. There’s nothing there. She lowers her arm accidentally brushing against her breast. Her eyes flutter shut as she imagines him doing it to her. Remembering where she is, Mon’s eyes shoot open and she pushes all thoughts of him from her mind. She cannot allow herself to get that distracted again. Krennic’s gone, she doesn’t know when he’ll be back and it’s time for her to stop pining after him.

When Mon returns from the Senate that evening, frustrated with how distracted she’s been all day, there’s a commotion in the dining room. Frowning, she follows the noise. Leida is arranging and then re-arranging place settings. It’s an unusual thing for Leida to do but then Mon reminds herself that she’s a married woman now, her life will be different to what it was when she still lived with Perrin and Mon.

“What’s all this?” She asks, a tight smile on her face. 

“I’ve been summoned back to Chandrila. I thought it would be nice for us to have dinner together.” There’s a bitterness to her words. 

“Summoned?”

“Stekan requires my presence.” At that, Mon is crushed with an overwhelming sense of guilt. Leida looks at her so hopeful and Mon knows she’s about to shatter it. “It will be nice to be home.” Leida adds and it’s almost believable. “We never talked about your last visit.” Mon curses to herself. She’s been using Perrin to avoid having the conversation but now, it seems, they’re going to have it. In truth, they should’ve had it before now but every time Mon came close to broaching the subject, she was reminded of Leida as a child and couldn't do it.

“I didn’t think you wanted to discuss it around your father.” Mon shrugs.

“I don’t. But I would like to know before I return to Chandrila.” 

“You’re leaving tomorrow morning?” Mon asks.

“Yes but Dad will be around, he wants to take me to the starport.”

“Stop by my office in the morning before you leave, we can talk there.” Mon smiles. She's surprised Leida hasn't read anything into the lack of a conversation. Perhaps that's just another example of how the two are so different.

“I will.” Leida confirms before going back to the place settings. “And Mother, thank you.” It hits Mon like a wave of freezing cold water. She thinks Mon’s going to be able to save her but she can't. It's the first time in a long time that Leida has wanted or even needed Mon for anything and Mon can't help her. 

She watches Leida for a moment, tries to memorise the look on her face and the smile she gave Mon. It's at that moment, that Mon decides the family dinner is the most important thing right now. Nothing else matters. She has to give Leida one last carefree night before she ruins her happiness. And she does exactly that. She turns off her datapad before dinner making herself uncontactable. If anything important happens, it'll be reported on the holonet and Erskin knows how to reach her in an emergency. 

After dinner, Leida decides she wants to watch a holofilm. Perrin has plans to meet a few of his friends for a drink but Mon manages to convince him to stay. He agrees but only if he can choose the film. The ultimatum lasts about five minutes before he gives in to Leida and lets her pick. Mon smiles. The whole thing is nice and she wonders if this is what it would've been like for them over the years if she hadn't dedicated so much of her time to her job. 

After about half an hour, Mon leaves Perrin and Leida to watch the film. She’s bored and her time would be better spent catching up on the new piece of legislation that Palpatine’s allies are trying to pass through the Senate. It’s a cosmetic vote. Palpatine wants the legislation implemented and so it will be. Even so, she will try and oppose it. Perhaps she can convince some of the Outer Rim senators to form a coalition to fight it, they’re the ones whose worlds will be affected the most by it. She opens up her diary to find a time to organise a meeting with some of them when she notices an appointment for that evening that she’s missed. Her heart sinks when she sees what it is: dinner with Krennic. When did he get back? A glance at the chrono on her wrist tells her that she’s missed dinner. When was it added to her schedule? Why didn’t Erskin tell her about it? Did Krennic turn up to the restaurant and wait for her to not turn up? Is he annoyed at her? He hasn't messaged her, so perhaps not.

“Mother, are you coming back?” Leida calls. The feeling of being wanted washes over Mon and she decides to listen to the ever familiar pull on her heart. Tonight's about Leida and if that means watching a terribly boring film, she'll do it. She casts her datapad aside and returns to the living room. The film is terrible but the evening isn't. And when they finally go to bed, Perrin admits that it was better than going out with his friends. Mon takes that as a victory. One that is short lived when his lips find their way to hers and his hands are on her body. Mon can't say no but each touch reminds her of Krennic. If she made it to dinner, would it be his hands caressing her curves, his lips trailing kisses over her skin, his bed she spends the night in instead of her own? After all, his proposition was that she spend every night he's on Coruscant in his bed. Images of what could have been plague her sleep that night and she wakes up early, having barely slept.

Mon is finishing a meeting with a constituent when Leida turns up to her office the next morning. She’d hoped that Leida would’ve forgotten about it and left for Chandrila without the two discussing her marriage. Instead, she’s talking to Erskin as Mon walks the constituent out of her office. She stands when she sees Mon, a smile on her face and dread stirs in the pit of Mon’s stomach. How does she tell Leida the truth? She waves her daughter into her office and as she does, she tries to remember the last time Leida had visited her in the Senate. It may have been when she was a child, back when she was still in awe of Mon. How things have changed , she thinks with a sad wistfulness. 

Leida takes a seat on the chair opposite Mon's desk and Mon cannot help but notice how small she still looks seated in a chair normally occupied by senators and Empire officials. She takes a breath and steadies herself before closing the door. Mon pauses for a moment, forces a smile onto her face and then walks to her desk. She doesn't sit behind it but leans against it instead.

“So…” Leida starts, her hands twisting. An awkwardness falls between them. Mon doesn't know how to start the conversation, cannot find the words and Leida is nervous which isn't making it any easier for her.

“Leida…” Mon starts and then stops when she sees the hopeful look of her only child. “I don’t know how to…”

“What is it?”

Mon takes a seat next to her daughter and gently cups her cheek. “Oh my darling girl…” She can hear the weakness in her voice. 

“I did as you asked.” She's trying to prolong it as long as she can. “I looked into Chandrilan law.” Leida nods, her eyes expectant. “I spoke to the Elders…”

“Okay…”

“Leida, I'm so sorry.” Mon can hear her voice breaking. “There’s no way to… Leida… you can't get a divorce.” Mon watches as the hope drains from Leida's face. 

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn't… it's not possible.” Mon reaches for Leida's hand but she pulls it away. 

“How can it not be possible?”

“It doesn't exist.” At that Leida laughs, but it's hollow.

“Is this… are you punishing me because of what I said before my wedding?”

“No, my darling.”

“Is this some twisted form of you made your bed, now lie in it?” Tears prick at Mon's eyes at the thought that Leida could think that of her. 

“Leida, it's not like that.”

“I don't believe you.” Leida retorts, standing up. “How could you do this to me?”

“Leida, I'm not doing anything, it's the law or lack thereof.” Mon reaches for Leida again but she steps back.

“I don't believe you.” Her voice waivers. Mon stands up. She wants to pull Leida into a hug. “You're the great Senator Mothma. You can fix anything.” Mon's heart twists. “You just don't want to fix this, you want me to suffer because I ignored you and went through with it.” And with that Leida is running from Mon's office. Mon starts to go after her but is stopped by the presence of Orson in the doorway.

“Dramatic.” Krennic smirks. Such perfect timing. “Is she okay?”

“She’s just found out she cannot get out of her marriage.” She attempts to follow Leida out of her office but is blocked by Krennic.

“Orson… what do you want or can this wait?” There’s a frustration to her tone. Krennic blinks in shock.

“Mon…” He places a hand on her waist.

“Orson, I can’t do this.” Mon begs him to let her go but forgets to say the word ‘now’. “What do you need? If it's urgent, speak to Erskin about setting up an appointment.”

“No, I have what I came for.” He announces, a bitterness seeping into his own tone. Mon’s gaze flicks to the outer door of her office and then back to Krennic. She’s torn. Does she choose Leida or Krennic? Out of the two, Leida needs her. Krennic will just have to wait. 

“I’m sorry, I have to go…” She tells him by way of an apology, she’ll make it up to him later, and then she’s running out of her office after Leida. 

When Mon gets back to the apartment, she’s too late. Leida has already left for Chandrila, the damage already done. Mon tries contacting her but there’s no answer. She tries again around the time that Leida should’ve arrived on Chandrila but still no answer. Mon’s not sure which is worse, destroying her daughter’s hopes or the damage it’s caused to their relationship. They’d just been starting to heal the rift between them and now they’re further apart than they’ve ever been. The worst part of it is that Mon cannot do anything to fix it. She cannot obtain a divorce for Leida and that's the only thing that would fix it. Why did Leida have to insist on marrying according to the old Chandrilan traditions? Why could she not have married Stekan according to Coruscanti law? Mon could’ve fixed that one. Instead, Leida has presented her with an unfixable problem and asked her to fix it. She’d called her the ‘great Senator Mothma’, Mon laughs at that. She’s anything but great and it was meant to wound, meant to be a reference to all the ways in which Mon’s failed at motherhood because she put the galaxy first. It does more than wound her. It infects her like a poison seeping into her very blood stream. 

Krennic’s gone when she gets back to her office. He hasn’t left a message with Erskin, nor has he set up a meeting or scheduled another dinner date. Mon lets out a deep sigh. She’s made a mess of things with him to fix things with Leida and she hasn’t managed to do that so it’s all been for nothing. She considers reaching out to him but she doesn’t know what to say. If she tries to re-schedule dinner, would he even show? The humiliation of him standing her up would be worse than him being angry with her. It stops her from reaching out. And then the Senate legislative business picks up, as it usually does when a recess is coming up. Mon finds herself drowning in it, perhaps she does it on purpose to distract herself from Leida and Krennic. Burning the candle at both ends stops her from thinking about either of them but it also takes her away from Perrin. Eventually, he too confronts her over the fact that he hardly sees her. There isn’t an argument and for that she’s grateful but it doesn’t stop the guilt from burrowing itself under her skin. To keep the peace with him, she finds herself initiating sex with him but all she can think about during it is Krennic and the way he made her feel. And after it, she just feels dirty and even more guilty for faking her orgasm to bring an end to it. If Perrin notices she’s faking it, he doesn’t say and she hopes that he doesn’t. The thought of that makes her feel even worse. By the time the Senate session comes to a close, Mon’s just barely keeping it together, her emotions are a tangled mess and the recess is a much needed break.

The first week of the Senate recess sees Mon spending her nights at party after party, event after event. A week that’s supposed to be for senators to return to their homeworlds has somehow morphed into a week of festivities that Mon doesn’t know how to get out of. Ever the hedonist, Perrin loves it and takes any opportunity to cut loose. Mon, however, sees it as a week of being forced to pretend she enjoys the company of Imperial Officers. One officer that has been noticeably missing from the week’s events is Krennic. She hasn’t seen him since he returned to Coruscant, since she unintentionally missed dinner with him and brushed him off when he turned up to her office but she’s ready to give him an answer.

The final event of the week is the Lorrd Festival of Light. Why Senator Samran has remained on Coruscant for it and not returned to the planet, Mon will never understand, especially when the Senate isn’t sitting. She considers skipping it, in favour of a trip to Chandrila but that means facing Leida and she’s not prepared to do that. Attending the party seems to be the lesser of two evils and at least she’s not going into battle alone: she has Perrin.

The festival is in full swing when they arrive, deliberately late to limit the time they have to be there. Mon used to look forward to these events, to relish the opportunity to experience another world’s culture but now she’s just tired of it all. Tired of the pretence, of the lies, of the gloss of it all hiding the truth of the Empire. Tonight, as she takes in the decorations and the themed cocktails and the traditional music and customs, all Mon can think of is the ways in which the people of Lorrd are suffering under oppression. What trade did their Senator make to preserve the splendour she now finds herself in? Every so often, she finds herself glancing at Perrin, wondering if he feels the same way, does he even notice it? Would it be simpler if she didn’t? Her and Krennic certainly would be. But how does she turn a blind eye to it all? How does she ignore it? She’s wearing Ghorman silk again tonight and that alone shows that she can’t.

“Didn’t the steel workers go on strike?” Mon hears Perrin ask Senator Danascar. She’s not entirely sure how she ended up in a conversation with him and Senator Plada but she’s stayed with Perrin tonight, trying to avoid being cornered by someone unpleasant on her own. Perrin quite likes Danascar, the two share the same sense of humour and Mon suspects that Perrin deliberately targeted him for a conversation. Still, it’s better than an Imperial and outside of politics and the ease with which he can so easily set aside principles for self interest, she doesn’t mind him. The conversation is in poor taste, a man was killed during the industrial action and they are making light of it. Mon casts a glance around the room to see if there’s anyone she can ditch the conversation for.

And that’s when she sees Krennic with another woman. She shouldn’t be surprised, he did tell her that he’d have to bring a date to the next event he attends for appearance’s sake. But knowing that doesn’t alleviate the effect it has on her, the deep rooted hurt that twists in her heart, the flame of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. His hand is on the woman’s waist but Mon can feel the ghost of it on hers. Krennic whispers something in the woman’s ear and she hears his voice low in hers, imagines the words he’s saying. She closes her eyes in an attempt to shut it out. When she opens them again, his gaze is on her. Her skin burns under the intensity of it. She meets his gaze, blue collides with blue, and it feels as though he is stripping her bare layer by layer. Laughter erupts around her and she realises Perrin has said something funny. Mon fakes a laugh. Krennic looks away. The rebuff is worse than his absence. It stings and she doesn’t quite know how to react to it. Is he trying to make her jealous again? His demeanour suggests otherwise. He’s cold. But more importantly, he doesn’t look back. Her heart twists at that, it’s unlike anything she’s ever felt. It’s as though he’s put a barrier up between them and Mon cannot tear it down. Is he closing the door on whatever was between them? The look they shared suggests not completely but she’s not prepared to leave it to chance.

As she tries to focus on the conversation going on around her, Mon notices Erskin walking by them. She flags him down. Erskin seems to know everyone who attends evenings like this. Mon has no idea how but it proves useful to her.

“Who’s that with Krennic?” Mon asks.

“She’s from the Ministry of Enlightenment.” Erskin spits out the Imperial department name and Mon smirks. “A rising star by all accounts.”

“In what way?” She frowns, rising stars don’t tend to last long within the Empire.

“Mina Rau…” Erskin pauses. “She was the one who created the narrative.” Mon shivers. The way the Empire had twisted what happened into a story of Imperial martyrdom is sickening. Undocumented workers had been killed during an Imperial inspection and yet all anyone heard about is the Imperial Officer who died and the rebels were blamed for it. The story had played on the holonet for weeks afterwards but no arrests were ever made. 

“What’s he doing with her? ” Mon thinks out loud. Why would Krennic be entertaining someone from the Ministry of Enlightenment? Why would he need use of the Empire’s propaganda machine?

“It would appear he is making her laugh.” Mon doesn’t appreciate the comment. “I thought you two were…” Erskin stops mid sentence, worried he’s overstepped. 

“So did I. Perhaps it’s just work.” She doesn’t finish the sentence. The woman’s laugh rings out, girly and warm and Mon admits to herself that it most likely is not just work.

“Find out what you can about her.” If Erskin asks, she’ll say it is to figure out what Krennic’s doing but in truth, she wants as much information as possible on her competition. If she’s going to entice Krennic back, she needs to know who she’s competing with and she needs to get him back. And as the slow burn of envy in her stomach is proving, she also wants to win him back, even if it is just for the sex. But then, she hears the laugh again, notes where Krennic’s hand is placed and thinks that perhaps she’s lost him. The thought of that crushes her. What will it mean for her and Bail and Yavin? Will the ISB sneak listening devices back into her office? And if they do, what does she do? Does she try to find them and remove them or does she leave them where they are and play the ISB at their own game? Mon can’t believe she’s even contemplating it. How did it all get derailed so quickly? Is she just another of his conquests? Was any of it true? Was he just playing her, stringing her along, telling her what he thought she needed to hear to sleep with him? Mon doesn’t think that’s the case, how could he have faked such tenderness? But, if it was true, how did he walk away from her so easily, how has he turned his back on her without a second thought? Mon doesn’t understand any of it. She doesn’t understand how the tables have turned, how she’s the one pining after Krennic, tracking his movements and noting who he’s speaking to when it used to be him doing that. And then she realises that she’s falling for him. Oh kriff! And suddenly, it all makes sense. The void created by his absence, the missing him, the inability to walk away from him and all of her conflicting emotions, it all clicks into place. 

The Corsucanti filtered air is warm on her skin as Mon steps out onto the balcony in search of fresh air. The summer weather cycle must have kicked in without her realising and the heat clings to her skin. So much for fresh air. Still, it affords her the opportunity to escape for a while. Mon lets out a breath and then steps towards the railing, her hands on the cold metal. The speeder lanes are quiet as she stares out at Coruscant. Mon’s reminded of the first time she saw it, how fascinated she’d been that first night she’d spent on Coruscant. Her and Perrin had watched the late night traffic for hours. How hopeful she’d been, how naive. Behind her, she hears the laughter of some of the partygoers and imagines Krennic and his new muse is one of them. Just thinking about it stirs jealousy in her and then she feels foolish. It’s her fault. She’s been unintentionally stringing him along since the night of Sculdun’s party. He was bound to get bored and give up eventually. And it just has to be when she’s finally ready to accept that she wants him. Putting aside the rebellion and her trying to protect Perrin, the ache in her heart at seeing him happy with another woman can only mean one thing and she’s ruined her chance.

“Mon.” She turns around at the sound of her name.

“Director Krennic.” Orson flinches at the use of his title. When did things get so formal between them? He studies her face for a moment. There's a sadness. One he hasn’t seen before and he wonders if he’s the cause. How can he be unless his attendance tonight with Cerria is what’s bothering Mon. Has he succeeded in making her jealous for a second time? This time it is deliberate. He’d wanted to show what she’s missing by turning him down but he hadn’t quite expected this reaction. He’s not entirely sure he understands it. Why is she so bothered when she rejected him? Why if she wanted him did she not turn up to dinner? Why has she not said yes? What is it that’s proving to be such an obstacle? Is it because of his position? What has the ISB gone to her that makes her so hesitant to let herself be happy with him? He’s reminded of the ‘fear of reprisals’ comment. Things don’t add up, there’s something he doesn’t know and he intends to find out exactly what it is, but first he needs to understand her reaction tonight.

“What is it that you're annoyed about?” Krennic asks, anger lacing his voice. “You rejected me.” Rejected him? What is he talking about? The only conversation they’ve had since his return to Coruscant was the one the morning after she missed his dinner invite. Surely he doesn’t mean then? But then Mon remembers what she’d told him that morning. It was a rejection, she just didn’t have time when Leida was upset.

“No, I didn’t.” She retorts. “I was helping my daughter deal with her mess of a marriage.”

Krennic frowns. “Your daughter.”

“Yes. Not everything is about you.” There’s a bitterness to her words. She’s hurting. Krennic had thought that by choosing Leida, she had rejected him and so had decided to hurt her. There’s a callousness to it, one that is in complete contradiction to the man she’d spent the night with after the break in. It is a clear demonstration of the paradox between the man he is when he’s with her and the imperial director that the rest of the world sees.

“You didn’t show up to dinner. I thought…”

“You thought what?” Mon almost explodes at him. “You said you’d give me time to decide and because I couldn’t make dinner, you what? You decided to throw a hissy fit and bring another woman tonight to make me jealous?”

“No… I…” He steps towards her but she moves back.

“Really mature.” She snaps.

“Mon…”

“No Orson. If I’m about to risk my marriage and my political career for whatever this is, the games have to stop.” She says it and it’s as though a weight has been lifted from her.

“Agreed.”

“If I’m not able to make plans with you or I have to cancel plans, you have to accept that. No more lingering around my office waiting for me.” 

“And I’m supposed to trust that you’re not avoiding me?” There’s that word again , Mon thinks. 

“Is your ego really that fragile?” Mon retorts.

“Mon… every single time we make any progress, you run a mile. I understand why, truly I do. The trauma you endured, but I would never… I could never.” 

“Not any more.” It’s quiet. The words linger between them, heavy. 

“What?” Krennic splutters. 

“I'm not running anymore.” There’s an unexpected strength to her words. She’s not entirely sure where it came from or even at what point she made up her mind.

“You're not?” The ghost of a smile crosses his lips.

“No, but the rules apply.” If she’s doing it, it’s on her terms.

Krennic smirks. “I'm not one for following rules.” Mon lets out a deep breath. “No marks, no games, no hanging around your office if you cancel on me, anything else?” There’s a slight teasing to his words but his expression suggests he’s serious.

“End the security alert.” Mon’s tone is flat. There’d been too much going on the night of the break in for her to confront him about the fact that he’d instructed Senate Security to keep tabs on her but she’s not letting him get away with it. The intrusion into her privacy crossed the line so blatantly that the line’s nowhere in sight.

“No.” It’s abrupt. There’s a challenge in his eyes. Mon refuses to back down. If she’s about to start an affair with him, he has to understand that she will not be meek and submissive.

“If you want to avoid the argument about you doing it in the first place, I suggest you end it.”

“Mon, either Senate Security alert me if something happens or I assign you a detail.” Oh kriff, he’s backing her into a corner with that. She cannot have a security detail, her every move would be reported back to him. And whilst she’s finally ready to embark on some sort of relationship with him, she cannot forget who he is and where his loyalties lie.

“Is everything going to be a negotiation?”

“Only when you disagree with me.” He smirks.

“Orson…” Irritation laces her voice.

“You know, I could just not tell you.” He points out.

“Orson… play fair.” She tilts her head.

“Very well.” He concedes. “In return for agreeing to all your terms, I get you in my bed whenever I'm on Coruscant and I get at least one date night with you each time I visit.” It's a lot to ask of her if she's intending to keep it a secret from Perrin but it’s less than she was expecting him to demand of her. Could she spend night after night in his bed? The thought of it brings a flush to her cheeks.

“How flexible are your terms?” She cannot agree to something she knows she cannot stick to. 

“I thought you weren't running.” 

“I'm not, but I might struggle to explain it to my husband.” Mon explains. Krennic narrows his eyes at the mention of Perrin and Mon takes a deep breath. Is Perrin going to once again be an obstacle?

Krennic sighs. “Very well. I'll be reasonable.”

“Reasonable?” She raises an eyebrow. Mon suspects her definition of reasonable will not be the same as his.

“Yes. Reasonable.” He smirks. “Do we have a deal?”

“I get to determine what's reasonable.” His smirk widens. Typical Mon.

“Fine.” He concedes. “Shall we seal the conclusion of our negotiations?”

“Very well.” Mon holds her hand out to him. He ignores it, places a hand on her hip and pulls her to him. His lips brush hers. It's delicate and then he deepens it. When he pulls away, he's smiling and Mon’s breathless.

“Sealed with a kiss.” He says, his lips close to her ear. And then he steps away from her. The sound of footsteps echoes behind her. Mon turns her head. Cold dread washes over her. Tarkin. Mon stiffens.

“Senator Mothma.” His slimy voice greets her. Mon wills her expression to stay neutral. How much did he witness? Did he see them kiss?

“Governor Tarkin.” She smiles. Tarkin nods in acknowledgment as his gaze passes between Mon and Krennic before settling on Krennic.

“Director Krennic, a moment of your time, if you’re not too busy.” The insinuation is there. Mon looks at Orson. What is the play here?

“Rejoin the party.” Krennic orders her. Usually his ordering her around would anger her, but this is Tarkin they’re dealing with. Mon may be an Imperial Senator but in this situation, she has very little power. “I’ll find you later.” He promises her.

“I’ll hold you to that.” She forces a playfulness in her voice. Krennic has decided on the narrative, going against it would be dangerous for them both, more so for her. Tarkin is not a man to be trifled with and if he doesn’t believe the show they’re putting on, he could start to look deeper into the relationship between them, could start looking into her in greater detail.

Krennic smirks. He lowers his lips to her ear. “Don't worry, I don't intend to let you go home alone tonight.” It's quiet enough to appear as though it's meant to be private but just loud enough so that Tarkin hears. Mon fakes a gasp. She shoots him a mischievous smile and then she's walking back inside.

“Your choice of playmate leaves a lot to be desired.” Tarkin drawls as soon as Mon is out of earshot.

“A sated senator is a tamed senator.” The words slip so easily out of his mouth.

“Does she know that you’re fucking her for the good of the Empire? Tarkin asks, a smirk on his lips.

“No but the Emperor is aware and has approved. It seems that he agrees neutralising her by taming her is better than disposing of her.” Krennic deliberately mentions the Emperor to shift the balance of power in his favour.

“Indeed.”

“What was it you wanted?” He doesn’t attempt to keep the boredom out of his voice.

“A report on your progress.” Tarkin’s smart enough to not mention the death star and Orson is relieved that he sent Mon back inside. That’s one secret he will keep from her, no matter the price.

“Governor Tarkin, as you are well aware, you don’t have the clearance for details of my project. Should you wish to know anything, I suggest you speak to the Emperor.”

“Indeed.” Tarkin concedes. “Well, happy taming Director.” And with that, Tarkin’s returning to the party. As he steps back inside, he passes a small group of guests deep in conversation. One member of the group is Erskin and whilst he’s pretending to be engrossed in the discussion, a different conversation has caught his attention, a hushed but tense conversation that occurred on the balcony between two men in Imperial uniforms that he stumbled upon whilst looking for his boss. A conversation that has potentially just turned the game on its head.