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The sacred temple of the Sponsum caretakers is bathed in bright moonlight as Armitage Hux approaches, hunched low and moving quickly in the shadows from the west. He’s light on his feet, dancing across the luscious jungle floor, leaping across on rocks wherever possible to avoid leaving his boot prints in the dirt. The small temple comes into view when the trees begin to clear and open into a small circle, a narrow expanse in the thick undergrowth that keeps the temple hidden and at peace.
Though, not for much longer.
The temple itself is an odd shape; a pyramid with its tip cut off and flattened, built with sandy-coloured brick and draped in vines, moss and a natural green residue from having stood here for so long beside the surrounding trees. It’s ancient, according to the information that Hux read on his journey here, visited only by those seeking peace from a conflicted mind through the Force.
Hux had scoffed. The Force. A pathetic belief in an all-surrounding power that monks use to hide behind their pacifism, Hux’s father had told him before his deployment. With his mission to assassinate one of these monks, Hux has no doubt that he’ll be in and out within minutes, undetected and ready to return to the First Order with another successful hit for his perfect kill record.
He stands at the foot of the temple wall for a moment, analysing his ascent. With his lithe body clad in tight leather and a cotton hood hiding his bright and recognisable copper hair, he’s invisible to the naked eye during the night. Folded into the pack on his back is his beloved M1C-CN7 sniper rifle—he affectionately calls her Millicent—and, like a hungry predator, he knows that she, too, desires blood tonight. With an array of knives in the pouches on his belt and twin vibroblades in holsters strapped around his thighs, he begins his climb of the temple by using the vines and askew bricks, eager to spill blood.
With no guards at the sanctuary’s perimeter, it’s no trouble for Hux to climb halfway up and sneak through one of the second-story windows, using his naturally slim body to slip through the glassless square hole and inside where a scent hits him straight away; incense, strong and of spice. Hux rubs his nose, sniffing, trying to get the smell from his senses, refusing to be distracted. His training doesn’t allow for distractions, not when his target awaits his inevitable end by the hands of the First Order’s finest assassin.
The Sponsum caretakers are small creatures, no taller than Jawas and bodies covered with dusty, cream-coloured robes, hiding blue scaly skin, but with the same empty, black eyes as Rodians sparkling underneath their hoods. Hux keeps his distance, lurking in the shadows of the window ledge and moving only when the coast is clear, somewhat unnerved by the species but he doesn’t dwell on his own feelings, only those which will help him identify his target.
The temple’s design is an assassin’s dream. With only one walkable level, the ground floor, and the other remaining stories being merely windows and ledges, Hux has no doubt that this will be his easiest mission yet. Whilst crouching on a ledge up high, Hux assesses what’s beneath him. It’s the main chamber of the temple, clear enough from its size and the large shrine that’s been built against the far wall. It’s a water feature, a mini-waterfall. Small trickles of water cascade down from an unknown source in the wall through a winding path, flowing beside patches of grass, pretty white flowers and small rocks before entering a pool at the bottom, though it doesn’t seem to ever overflow. Hux can see the smoke from the burning incense coming from lit sticks mounted on the shrine, surrounded by flowers, but all of this is irrelevant to Hux, all he’s focussing on now is the man who’s sitting quietly in front of the fountain.
Even by looking at the back of the man’s head, the flowing dark hair is unmistakable, as are the cream and brown Jedi robes. Hux reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small holoprojector, activating it with a little flick of the switch on its side. An image of a man’s face—a boy’s face—is revealed, glowing blue whilst a few snippets of information appear beside it.
The target’s name is Ben Solo, a Jedi of the New Order and nephew to Luke Skywalker himself. He’s said to be an ace pilot, too, as well as a crack shot with a blaster. The son of Han and Leia Organa-Solo, Ben seems to have inherited all of his parents’ best attributes, including that famous Organa fighting spirit, according to Hux’s sources. It’s a shame, Hux thinks, shoving the projector back into its pouch, that talents like Ben’s are wasted in fighting for the New Republic. In another life, the First Order would have relished in having a powerful ally like Ben on their side. Another shame that such a handsome face is to be soon to be a ghostly shadow. Alas, the Jedi scum dies today at the hands of Armitage Hux.
Hux drops down a couple of ledges in silence and with the upmost care, careful only to step on the ledges that don’t look as though they’re about to crumble beneath him. Still high enough to not be spotted, Hux gets comfortable, leaning on one knee whilst he sets about putting Millicent into place, thankful of her unique and lightweight design by his father’s finest men and women. She hasn’t failed him yet. Below him, Ben does not stir. Now a little closer, Hux can see that the target is sat cross-legged in a meditative pose in front of the shrine, quiet and calm. So much for the all-powerful Force, Hux thinks; Ben hasn’t moved since he breached the temple’s peace. After attaching the rifle’s silencer on her tip, Hux takes up his pose with Millicent and gazes down the scope, smiling to himself when he finds the centre of Ben’s head in his red marker. Hux’s finger hovers over the trigger, feeling high already, so close to snuffing out another pathetic New Republican ally.
“So long, Solo,” Hux can’t help but mutter to himself as he bites his lip, pressing down on the trigger, sending a silent but killer shot straight to the back of Ben’s skull, a hit that will instantly kill with no noise made.
Hux is already counting this as victory #39 when movement from below disrupts his celebrations. The Jedi—Ben—is suddenly on his feet and facing Hux, his bare hand stretched into the air to halt the blaster shot before it can successfully strike him down. The tiny bolt hovers just inches from the skin of Ben’s hand, controlled with such precision that Hux assumes that this isn’t the Jedi’s first time at stopping a shot meant to kill. Now facing him, Hux can see Ben’s face, his dark eyes gazing up at him with an unreadable emotion in them; the Organa fighting spirit.
No one has ever needed a second shot from Millicent but Hux isn’t prepared to allow this Jedi to win. Lining up for another hit, Hux’s finger doesn’t reach the trigger in time before he has to leap onto another ledge as Ben sends the shot ricocheting back at him with a quick flick of his wrist, destroying the ledge that he was previously sat on and making it crumble to the ground below. Hux grunts as he moves, annoyed and disappointed, but he knows now that this Jedi isn’t like the others. And what an honour it will be for Hux to return to the First Order with Ben’s blood on his hands.
Another ledge collapses, leaving Hux no other option than to leap down and land with a roll on the ground, meters away from his target. Beside him, Millicent falls to the ground and breaks, her pieces lying scattered around him.
“You Imperials are slacking,” Ben quips, rolling his fingers across his palm.
Hux stands tall, hood still covering his hair and resting low on his brow, suddenly rather intimidated by Ben’s width. His shoulders are strong, wide, and Hux knows that winning in a physical brawl is unlikely against a Jedi with brawn as well as brains.
“We like to give the charming ones a fighting chance. It makes for a greater fall.” They begin to circle each other as though each waiting for the other to make the move first. Hux dares and wins, throwing four small knives—two in each hand—straight at Ben. Three are deflected, one catches his upper arm and slices through his robes, drawing a thin line of blood.
Elated, Hux advances, drawing his two long vibroblade from their holsters around his thighs, dragging their sharp edges across one another to create a piecing screech to throw his opponent off balance before charging, his boots making an almost silent patting sound as he runs, leaping high with his blades raised over his head and ready to kill, already imagining the Jedi’s blood dripping from his weaponry. But a flash of bright blue makes Hux flinch, angered even more when he realises that Ben’s lightsaber has parried his blow. Across the furious burning blue and thrum of the lightsaber and vibroblades, Ben and Hux stare at each other, holding the other’s gaze as though looking away would mean losing.
“Persistent,” Ben says, raising a brow. “I like that.”
Hux growls at his target, though admits that his anger has redirected itself back towards himself, furious at the butterflies that are fluttering in his stomach at Ben’s flirtatious comment. How dare his victim be so bold in the face of his killer. With all his strength, he tries to push against Ben’s lightsaber to knock him back but even without the aid of the Force, the Jedi’s physicality exceeds Hux’s and he’s easily parried, pushed until he’s flying back through the air to land on his backside on the floor, hood knocked back from his head.
Winded, Hux coughs, groaning as a pain spreads through his lower back but he won’t be beaten. He can’t fail: his father’s Stormtrooper reconditioning program awaits him if he does.
But applause suddenly fills the quiet and empty space of the main chamber. On his guard straight away, Hux bolts to stand up, taking a defensive stance with his twin blades arched defensively in front of his body.
The little Sponsum caretakers emerge from the adjoining chambers, clapping their little hands and jumping up and down in, what appears to be, joy.
“What a show!” One of them shouts.
“A match made by the Force itself!”
“Husbands!”
Hux almost drops his blades to the floor. Husbands! The caretakers flood the chamber, moving to reach up and shake Ben’s hand and bow before them both, some beginning to kneel and chant. Hux can only watch in shock and confusion as Ben squats down and begins speaking with one of the caretakers in their native tongue. As much as it makes Hux’s heartbeat spike, seeing Ben’s tongue wrap so expertly around such a strange language, he listens in though refuses to put his blades away. This, for all Hux knows, could be a trap.
“You’re kidding,” Ben says, dragging one of his hands down his face.
The little caretaker chitters, shaking its head. It places one of its hands on Ben’s cheek and directs his full attention back to Hux.
“What did it say?” Hux asks, desperate.
“It said that we’re betrothed. The Force has brought us together. It said that here, on this planet, an attempt on someone’s life means marriage. It’s the final step in the bonding.”
“How,” Hux gasps, “in Nine Hells could that possibly mean—”
“You’ve heard of those planets where the groom kidnaps the bride before the wedding?”
“Of course.”
“Well,” Ben tilts his head, shrugging. “It’s like that.”
“This is kriffing ridiculous—whoa!”
Hux suddenly finds himself being ushered forwards by an invisible force, soft hands that cradle his body in such a gentle manner, a tenderness that he hasn’t felt before. He glides across the floor at the mercy of the caretaker’s mystical Force powers, guiding him across the chamber, and only when Hux looks up does he see Ben mirroring him, being carried in the same way towards him. His blades are forced from his hands, clattering to the floor and leaving him completely exposed in his tight, leather bodysuit. Twisting in the invisible hold, Hux grimaces in frustration at himself. His body is betraying him, excited by the prospect of dallying with the enemy and exchanging forbidden touches. Danger has always given him thrills, and what’s more dangerous than cavorting with the First Order’s largest threat.
In no more than another couple of seconds, Hux finds himself chest-to-chest with his target, his prey, his husband. Their bodies are literally pressed together as the Sponsums dance around them, singing in their own language. Hux tries to focus on their high-pitched sounds and ignore the feel of Ben’s chest against his, of their knees touching and their noses bumping together. Turning his head away, Hux doesn’t dare look at Ben, fearing to fall deeper into the Jedi’s enchanting presence. Feeling Ben’s breath against his skin is bad enough; hot and heavy, it sends cold shivers across Hux’s skin, and suddenly his suit seems even tighter.
“Your hair smells like petcha berries,” Ben says, ruffling his nose through Hux’s soft hair.
“Stop that immediately,” Hux scolds, kicking and squirming to try to get the brute off of him, but the hold around them both keeps him in his place, much to his simultaneous disgust and excitement. Ben chuckles lowly, and Hux feels the vibrations through his chest, reverberating through his bones.
“Behold, the tie of betrothal!”
A thick, shimmering green vine begins to encircle the newlyweds, coiling around them both and constricting, pulling them as close together as they can, not an inch of space between their bodies. Ben even grunts as the vine tightens, pushing their pelvises together and, only now, does Hux regret the tightness of his suit.
“At least someone is happy to see me,” Ben says.
Hux feels himself blush all over, “Kriffing hell, do you ever shut up? Just keep quiet and they might let us go.”
“Basium!” The caretakers clap and shout. “Basium! Basium!”
“Now what are they saying?” Hux grunts.
“They’re saying kiss,” Ben replies. “They want us to kiss.”
“Like Hell! I want you to kiss the end of my rifle!”
“Not an innuendo, I hope.”
“Ugh! Shut up, Solo!”
Overwhelmed, Hux closes his eyes in a long blink, trying to assess the situation and construct a way out like he’s been trained to do but it would seem as though his perception of this being an easy mission has been blown out of the water. In the Academy, he was moulded and shaped into a silent weapon, he was trained to focus only on the mission at hand and avoid all other distractions. Ben Solo and his enchanting personality wasn’t part of Hux’s training and the cracks are beginning to show.
And before he can make another comment, Ben’s lips are on his cheek. He places a tender kiss there, slow and meaningful. Hux has never felt contact like it. He looks up, finally, nose-to-nose with the Jedi and sees sparkles in his dark eyes.
“Go with it,” Ben whispers, eyes half-lidded as he looks down at Hux, into his eyes and then his lips. “I feel it too.”
Hux can’t help but seize up as Ben begins kissing him, lips even softer than they appear. Their lips do not part at first, only moving against each other with a soft rhythm—with Ben doing most of the leading—and Hux feels every part of himself tingling with excitement. He wishes he could raise his arm and brush his fingers through Ben’s dark hair, to feel the soft locks in his touch but to guide him deeper into the kiss. Everything that Hux has ever known is forgotten for just a moment; his turmoil, his need to spill blood to please his father. Everything he didn’t know he was missing is here in Ben’s kiss.
The vine around them begins to loosen as their kiss grows stronger, deeper, and they’re eventually released from their coiled prison but their kiss does not break. Hux even finds his hands moving to hold onto Ben’s hips as though refusing to let this moment end, as though letting go would mean he has to become who he’s been trained to be. Alone.
Ben breaks the kiss first though Hux jolts forward with him, too deep in the kiss to react to the movement, wanting to follow Ben’s lips for more. Hux opens his eyes slowly and lifts his head to gauge his companion’s reaction, partially expecting a lightsaber to be shoved through his chest or another sarcastic quip but Ben looks as moved as Hux feels. Around them, the caretakers slowly back off, retreating back to their chambers to carry on with their nightly routine, leaving Hux and Ben alone in the chamber.
“You okay?” Ben asks.
Hux laughs, “I came here tonight to kill you and you’re asking me if I’m alright?”
“I can feel your conflict,” Ben nods. “You’re being torn apart. It’s causing you pain.”
“What would you know about being torn apart, Jedi?”
“More than you think.” Ben’s eyes glaze for a moment before his calm resumes its place. “I can help.”
“You’re my mission.”
“But here we are.”
Ben raises his hand and levitates Hux’s two fallen vibroblades into the air, cradling them gently as he guides them back to their owner. Hux looks to his weapons and then to Ben, hearing his father’s voice as clear as day inside of his consciousness, telling him to stab the Jedi where he stands and emerge from the temple in complete victory over the New Republic, having slaughtered their darling.
Hux wraps his fingers around the blades, one in each hand, and holds them steady, feeling the exact moment that Ben’s invisible grasp on them disappears and they’re left entirely in Hux’s palms. He envisions the blades embedded in Ben’s belly, falling to the ground, bleeding out. The image doesn’t excite Hux anymore. Instead, it brings grief.
He shoves the blades back into the holsters on his thighs and pulls his hood back over his head, hiding his hair, shadowing his eyes. In front of him, Ben is smiling. Quietly, inside of his own mind, Hux calls him beautiful.
“I’ll tell my boss that you overpowered me and then you escaped,” Hux says, turning his back on Ben. “So you’d better make a run for it. Go. I’m not going to stop you.”
“You’ve got a heart underneath all of that black leather, Armitage Hux,” Ben says.
“I said, go.”
Hearing Ben’s name on his lips is enough to compromise Hux even further. He supposes his red hair is a dead giveaway of his identity; the galaxy knows that Brendol Hux’s bastard gets his hands dirty on his father’s behalf. But his name in Ben’s deep voice makes it sound like music to Hux’s ears, though he’ll never hear it again.
When Hux next turns around, Ben is gone without having made a sound. In his place, resting gently on the ground, is one of the single white flowers from the water shrine. Hux picks it up, touching the petals with the more care and gentleness than he ever thought himself capable of. With the little flower held in his palm, Hux picks up his broken Millicent and leaves.
His heart is hoping that, one day, his path will cross with Ben Solo again. His head, however, hopes that he and Ben never meet again. In a galaxy where war is raging, there can be no place for attachment.