Cal didn't like being forced into this arranged marriage, either. But it was what the Empire wanted. You are the heir to the throne on a planet in the core worlds, one rich with raw materials that the Empire desperately needed. It was this very reason that brought you two together.

He often stayed away. He would bury himself with missions and tasks the Empire, Lord Vader, and Sidious asked of him. You never quite knew why. Any attempts to converse with him to get to know him better was typically shot down if he was home. He often made excuses to be away from you. He hardly showed any emotion around you, and barely talked to you. His words were kept simple and to the point, if anything.

Today was different. He came back to the palace, limping and clutching his side. Blood seeped out from his fingers and left a trail on the floor. The Eleventh Brother noticed your look of concern.

"I'm fine," Cal insisted. "I can handle it." Your genuine concern for his well-being surprised him, however. He lowered his head and allowed you to bandage him. He now sat shirtless upon request to properly get him fixed up.

"Fine. But make it quick," the Inquisitor muttered. The walls that he put up to protect himself emotionally through the process of reconditioning were slowly being torn down by you, his spouse.