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Outside the summer sun was harsh and bright, not a breeze to be felt. People squirreled to and fro between climate controlled buildings, fanning themselves and wiping uselessly at the sweat too quickly accumulated upon their brows.
But inside the Imperial Palace the temperature measured at a pleasant 22°C degrees as always, with gentle breezes generated by state of the art air filtration units, and cool mists spraying near the interior fountains.
A small human, finely but still practically dressed, ran across several hallways, dashed past the elaborate fountains and plant arrangements, excused himself from the few staff he’d nearly bumped into, and stopped at a tall imposing door. He nodded at the four Stormtroopers standing guard, raised a still chubby hand to give two knocks for formality’s sake, and pushed open the door to peek his dark head inside what appeared to be a large office.
“Sir, may I come in please?”
“Ah Ermita, you have something for me, I presume?” said the sole occupant and owner of the office, the Emperor of the New Imperial Empire. The Emperor put down his tablet, smoothed a stray strand escaping from his carefully styled red hair, and gestured for the trooper Captain to close the door behind the child.
“Good afternoon, Sir.” The boy scooted all the way in, holding what appeared to be a basket behind him with one hand, and withdrew his own tablet from a little satchel with the other. With a wave, he floated the tablet towards the Emperor’s desk, and plopped it down on top of the “To Do” pile, right next to a half empty cup of lukewarm black tea.
“Historical analysis on the first and second battles of Endor, of the passing of the old Empire and the birth of the New Empire, ready for your inspection, Sir,” the boy grinned and plopped himself into a chair, put the basket over his lap, and willed the chair to wheel towards his legal guardian’s giant desk.
The Emperor poured a new cup of tea for his little visitor, with one extra helping of sugar from a little bowl and two extra helpings of blue milk from the mini conservator. “And what else have you got for me, Ermita?”
The boy’s smile got considerably wider, “Lord Ren came back early! And he got us this!”
In his elation and eagerness to show off the gift, the boy completely missed the brief involuntary frown the Emperor had quickly smoothed. The boy was wholly focused on flipping open the cloth covering the basket, and thrusting it out for the Emperor to see.
“Look Sir, Lord Ren got us a baby cat!”
And indeed, yawning in the carefully lined basket, was a small orange infant cat. It extended one tiny foreleg, flexed its equally tiny claws, and curled back into a ball again.
The Emperor stared at the tiny clump of orange fur as if startled. But an Emperor could never be startled. So rather than making a sound of shock, the man drew one deep steadying breath, exhaled, took the basket from the boy’s hands, and placed it carefully on the floor next to his chair. “Thank you, Ermita. I trust you will show yourself to be a responsible young man and take adequate care of it. Now speaking of the Master Knight, where is Lord Ren himself?”
“At his refresher. He said the last time he came back from a long mission and dropped by your office without stopping first at the ‘fresher, you were most upset about all the blood and mud.”
“Ah yes, the carpets never did quite recover. Now Ermita, could you please take our new cat to your nurses, so that they may see it fed? It is far too young for regular cat food. You could even name it, if you wish.”
“Nu-un, Lord Ren already named it. He said it would be called Millicent 2.0!”
**
Outside the sun gave way to his colder sisters and their veils of stars, and the sands and stones cooled as the citizenry went back to their homes and hearths. As the birds flocked toward their nests too, the nature preservation parks dotted here and there in the great capital came alive with the rustlings of small nocturnal animals and insect songs.
In the Emperor’s well-lit private dining hall, a boy sat on a plush chair, holding his new pet cat with both arms while eyeing the last of the after-dinner dessert still on the table. But he was taught better than to indulge too often in excess.
Across from the boy sat the Emperor himself, not terrifying as the Core Republic planets had whispered, not regal as his own people had often seen on broadcasts and during public appearances, not even stern as his young ward sometimes found his guardian to be. Here he was just a man, tired at the end of a long day, sitting down to finish the last of his evening meal. His shoulders were still a little stiff, his mind not fully in the present.
A pair of large, weapon calloused hands reached from behind the Emperor and placed themselves on the man’s thin shoulders, unheedful of personal space as ever. The Emperor jolted out of his private thoughts, and would have made his displeasure known, had the same warm hands not gotten to work kneading loose tense knots.
The Emperor gave a deep long sigh and tisked at his other dinner companion, who pouted in a manner most unbefitting of the Empire’s Red Right Hand, and leaned down to brush full lips across the shell of his sovereign’s left ear. He would have done more, had the little boy sitting across not giggled at his guardians’ open display of affection. The Knight straightened with some regret and went back to his own seat, having long since learned when not to press his luck after years of interactions with the Emperor. Push the man now, and he would be cold, stiff, and nonreciprocal later. So many years together, and the military man turned politician and dictator still could not let go of his strict Imperial upbringing.
“It was just one little kiss, not even on the mouth,” ever wanting the last word, the Knight grumbled under his breath. He then squinted at the boy at the other side of the table, “Now Ermie, care to explain what were you giggling at?”
The boy’s smile was genuine and wide (Both men thought they themselves must have once smiled like that, long, long time ago, yet neither could remember when), “At you two of course! I’m so lucky to have parents who actually like each other, instead of what so many of my classmates have. Why just the other day, Teena Jerjerrod’s mom got arrested for trying to poison Teena’s cheating dad!”
“Why Ermie, did you think I would have settled for anything less? For a sham partnership? I know Hux is usually the one who imparts his so-called wisdoms to fill your poor head, but take this lesson from me: should you ever see something that you truly desire, seize it, fight for it, and hold on to it, pour all of your passion into it. It will empower you, and widen your connection to the Dark side of the Force. Same with people. You’ve got to take initiative. As to the parents of your classmates, now though they do have their own talents and uses, some of our high command are fools, to suffer people they hate just to climb ranks and curry alliances. Do not look to them as examples, for they are weak and beneath you.” Having imparted his own so-called wisdom, the Knight gave a little leer at the Emperor and threw one well-muscled arm over the man’s chair-back.
The Emperor gave his young ward a well-practiced smile, but did not lean back into his Knight’s arm at all.
**
Kylo had retired early, fatigued from his latest mission. Hux had joined the Knight in their bed, but unlike the Knight, whose tasks for the day were done, he was still awake and attempting to work, sitting against the firethorn wood carved headboard, with a pillow against his pleasantly sore back.
Hux’s eyes stared at the data pad in his hand, reports on the latest movements of New Republic border patrols, but his mind was elsewhere.
As difficult as it was for Hux to find anything he could be grateful to his father for, he had to concede that the old man’s insistence on training all Academy cadets on Force mind-reading resistance was a stroke of foresight which had benefitted Hux greatly.
Hux had long known Kylo’s less than favourable thoughts regarding those who suffered people they hate just to climb ranks and curry alliances. What would Kylo say then, if he ever found out he had helped put one such sycophant and opportunist on a high throne. That he had, on this very evening, lain quite enthusiastically with the very type of man he held such open disdain for.
And Kylo Ren, the unstable whirlwind that was Kylo Ren, who was aware of his sheer physicality and not hesitant to bully others with it, who lived by impulse, animal instinct, and nonsensical mysticism rather than reason and logic, was the exact sort of person Hux had always silently mocked and despised.
But the Hux of yesterday was inexperienced, pathetic, and insecure in his youth. In trying too hard to achieve his father’s ideals of strength, he had actually been weak. By attempting to save face and put up appearances, he had thoroughly and willingly furthered and participated in his own degradation. Before weaving a cover so convincingly for Ren, for the Knights, for the few officers close to himself, to the point that even Snoke was fooled, Hux had at first very successfully deceived himself as his own body betrayed him. And biological responses from a sexually deprived healthy young human male were mistaken for passion, and the jumble of arousal and a flimsy mental shield forged from false surface thoughts were understood as consent. But as much as Hux blamed himself still, he placed the majority of the blame on Ren. Stupid, covetous, aggressive Ren, who had forcefully wedged himself into Hux’s life just as he had forcefully wedged himself into Hux’s bed.
The Hux of today was no better. Upon realizing how the reaction of his body had nothing to do with agreements of the mind, and how he had so foolishly deluded himself out of shame and fear, Hux had not pushed Ren away. No, instead Hux played along, strung Ren on, and used the Knight to benefit his own designs. How similar Hux was to his whore mother after all, selling his body and affections for material gains. And what a better whore Hux had made, to have the bargain of an Empire instead of frivolous luxuries.
And just like how one Commandant Hux had plied his mistress with gifts of perfumes, jewels, and credits, so had Kylo Ren plied Hux with his own brand of gifts.
At first there was the gift of life. Though Hux was too shaken to even realize it for what it was at the time, shivering and chilled, splashed in Snoke’s strange cold blood. Ren had kissed Hux then, soaked in his own Master’s viscera and gore, eyes blown wide with adrenaline, desires spurred on by the heady rush of the Force.
Then came the gift of an Empire. And Hux took it as his due compensation from the universe that had wronged him so. And it was his due, after all the loss, the suffering, the humiliation, the blood and sweat. Ren came again and again to Hux’s bed, seeking his rewards for jobs well-done in the Emperor’s name. And Hux, fully aware of the nature of their relationship long before he had accepted the crown, welcomed Ren again and again to better ensure the Knight’s loyalty and agreeableness. (Several assassination attempts in the New Empire’s earlier days were thwarted by Lord Ren’s presence in the Emperor’s chambers, long after any decent hour. Hux counted that as the silver lining to forcing himself into sharing a bed with his own rapist. He hadn’t really wanted it, truly. He had even said no the first few times, all those moons ago, long before he was Emperor, long before he was even General. But Kylo never did listen well. Although the act had gotten easier over the years, especially once Hux had started to view them as transactions necessary for his own success and sometimes even survival.)
Later there was the gift of a son. And Hux had scoffed at the boy’s skinny frame and too soft face. A dirty, malnutritioned orphan, thin as a slip of paper, and looked just about ready to be blown away by the mildest of winds. Leave it to Kylo Ren to take something so weak and useless under his black tattered wings. So what if the child was connected with the Force? Kylo had asked Hux to help name his new protégé, and the name Hux had given him had left the child shyly smiling. Not because he was named after the ruler of half of the known galaxy, but because of the buoyed hope that by giving him his own name, perhaps this man truly would accept the boy into his family. (Hux never told anyone, but he hated his own first name, the name of an unwanted and unimportant nobody.)
Hux had never expected Kylo to pick him over his Master. Hux had never really believed he could one day rule the galaxy. And whatever illusions Hux had about family were long squashed in his earliest years. Yet here he was, alive, with the weight of the galaxy’s present and future on his shoulders, an heir more suitable than what any of those parasitic women at court could ever hope to produce, at the moment sleeping soundly the next room over, snuggled with a cat named after a small, graceful lady, who was both dear to Hux’s heart and a sorry casualty at the battle of Starkiller Base.
How strange his life is, that it was this gift of a cat which had made Hux finally pause and look back on the greatest gifts he had ever received in his life, and recognize them for what they were.
Hux rubbed his eyes and put his datapad down on the nightstand next to Kylo’s lightsaber and his own face cream, and turned off the reading lamp. He righted and fluffed his pillow, and carefully scooted down in the bed to join Kylo under the covers.
The planet’s twin moons shone gently through satin blinds, casting the Emperor’s chambers in their cool soft light.
Hux turned on his side to face his bedmate, and looked at the man’s familiar uneven face under the moonlight. In sleep Kylo Ren was the very image of quiet repose, finally looking like the Prince he was born to be despite the angry scar still vividly bisecting his face. Hux ran his long fingers through Kylo’s dark locks, silky and smelling of their shared shampoo and a familiar hint of rust and blood. Upon noticing the appearance of a new mole on the tip of a ridiculous ear, more lines at the edge of that plush, crooked mouth, Hux frowned slightly and mused about the matching extra lines on his own face, the grey streaks creeping onto his own temples.
Ermita thought his guardians deeply in love, and popular narrative about Emperor and Knight hinted at by history books and sang and praised in popular media unanimously agreed. But as half of the actual participating party in these particular telltales, Hux knew better. So did, Hux suspected, Kylo Ren. Thick as the man was, even he had to have some ideas by now, on how their relationship was ever one of give and take and mutual use.
Yet was mutual use not one of the most solid foundations of good alliances, be it in love, politics, or war? Compared to the false cordiality between Brendol Hux and his wife, the exchange of cheap commodities and satiation of base lust that was the entirety of the interactions between the same man and his mistress, and the disaster that was the relationship between Kylo’s own parents, Hux had to admit his current arrangement with Kylo was actually both stable and fairly optimal. And although Millicent the Second had already shed quite viciously over both the Crown Prince’s jacket and Hux’s own shirt despite her diminutive size, the addition of a cat into their lives was quite fine too.