Malou was born into a powerful family. She had grown up in wealth with privileges given to her by just her name alone. Her name had power most people would never dream of achieving. But within her family, she was forgotten. Her father Jacques was important to the D'Amaris house, but he was not first in line to inherit the title Count D'Amaris. Jerôme would inherit her father's title, leaving Malou to be married off to some noble man she might not even know. That was the worse case scenario. Best case scenario, she would have a say between three or four suitors.
This, of course, was all before Artorgias Wessex took control of House Wessex forcefully. Though the Wessex house was not one of the ruling houses of Serreno like her own, the violence and mostly importantly his rank within the Sith, caught the attention of nearly every House on Serreno. Malou took this as an opportunity to get out of her house and strive for a different life. After all, her father never wanted her to use the Force, but she saw what the Force could do. If he wouldn't let her, she figured someone else would.
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"Father?" Malou knocked gently on the sleek wooden door of her father's study. It was a rare occasion that he was home; he was usually out for work, politics, or pleasure. She figured the Wessex incident had something to do with his return. "May I come in?"
Silence. It persisted for a few moments before a gruff "come in" was heard through the wood. Malou opened her eyes, giving them a moment to adjust before pushing the door open and entering. She held a letter tightly in one hand.
Jacques D'Amaris sat facing his desk, hand dug into his gray hair as he intently studied something on a datapad. Her father had little to do with or say to her, but it seemed that every time she saw him his face was lined with stress. She didn't want to assume, but she couldn't help but assume the events of the Wessex house had something to do with it. Malou thus entered the room quietly, letter still in hand as she moved to stand behind him.
"What do you need, little Malou?" Little Malou. She felt an angry heat in her chest at those words. He had not called her that in years. Why now did he think it was alright to resurface an old pet name when he barely had anything to do with her? When he-- Calm down. Malou took a quiet breath and quickly composed herself while his back was still turned to her. She had rehearsed what she was going to say.
"I want to send a letter to Artorgias Wessex." Malou barely finished her sentence before her father whipped around in his chair. His face remained neutral but she could see the intense look in his eyes. But he did not speak, so she continued.
"I- um... I am aware that you do not wish for me to practice the Force. However, I think that... perhaps me studying it could prove beneficial for our family." Malou paused to wait for a response. Nothing. Was she supposed to keep going? "If the Wessex House has a Sith, perhaps it would be...good for us to have one as well." And good for her to learn to use something she was born to use.
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Malou believed that it was nothing short of a miracle that she somehow convinced her father to seal and mail the letter to Artorgias. For years upon years he had forbidden her to use the Force--even closing her eyes to see was too much for him. She knew it was the death of her mother that inspired such harshness, but it had never made sense to her. It had built resentment and anger in her, but somehow that was all ending. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't both nervous, excited, and anxious all at once. He had never said why he agreed, and part of it made her nervous. Why would he change his mind?
She supposed she'd find out one day.