Tales From the Finalizer
By: Lena (Airelle Vilka)
Author's Note: This is meant to be a collection of short stories about Ren and Hux. AU in one way: General Hux is a woman. After seeing the movie, I found the Hux/Ren rivalry intriguing, almost like a Tarkin/Vader thing. But I thought the dynamic would be even more interesting if the general were female. To my knowledge, I'm the first FFN author to do so. So here is my foray into this love/hate, but mostly hate, relationship. Enjoy and let me know what you think!
TALE ONE – Game, Set, Match
In which Ren accepts a bet, and Hux makes an attempt at work-life balance.
Part I of II
While it cannot be said that Kylo Ren took pleasure in anything, getting on General Hux's nerves came pretty damn close.
He slouched by the door of the officers' meeting chamber, projecting boredom as much as he could without removing his helmet. His presence unnerved the other officers; their Force signatures trembled slightly whenever one of them passed his gaze over Ren's dark shadow.
Not so with Emmeline Hux. The damn woman didn't even blink when he'd stalked into the room, merely coughed and shuffled her papers. They were discussing plans for the new weapon, dubbed Starkiller, and she rose among her subordinates at the oval table, sharp and immaculate, like a polished halberd.
"Ren." Her voice sliced through his musings. "I suppose you have no objections to any of this."
He tipped his head at her, the only indication of attention, and put his voice into the laziest drawl he could muster. "Do whatever you think necessary... General." He held out the last word, just long enough to be insolent, and saw a flash of annoyance in her ice-blue eyes.
Success.
Her back stiffened just enough for him to catch it, but she smoothly went on to the next topic; none of the other officers seemed to have noticed the exchange.
Ren's lips curled into a grin beneath his mask. He knew he irritated her immensely, had seen cracks in her glacial composure when she read yet another report of the property damage he'd caused in one of his rages. She hated his temper, his disdain for hierarchy and rules, almost as much as he hated her propriety and her perfectly pressed uniform.
But even he had to admit that Hux had vision, and ambition, and passion. It blazed through her like wildfire, most obviously in her many public speeches, and he could understand that at least, because it was a Dark Side quality. In fact, if he got around to thinking (not that he thought about her that often), Ren was forced to concede that she would have made an excellent convert, if she were Force sensitive. He only had to see one of her speeches to know she could, and would, walk through fire to get what she wanted. She hadn't become Snoke's chosen leader without reason, made all the more impressive by her relative youth. Grudgingly, and only in the privacy of his own thoughts, Ren had to agree she deserved the post.
Moreover, unlike the others, "friend" and enemy alike, Hux did not fear him, not even when she first took command of the Finalizer. Ren remembered their initial meeting, her crisp steps on the durasteel floor, that unwavering blue gaze underneath a horribly severe bun common to female staff. She had made a polite nod, unfazed by the stench of fear permeating the room from the other First Order officers. She had not succumbed to the heavy pressure of his presence, his towering form, or even the mask and robes and the very clear threat of the lightsaber at his belt. He had been frankly shocked, and glad for the safety his helmet provided in hiding his facial expression.
From the very beginning, the woman alternately infuriated and intrigued him. And, as the months passed on the First Order's flagship, Ren's curiosity finally won over aversion, and in his spare time, he set himself to the task of finding the chinks in Emmeline Hux's armor. Snoke had forbidden him from reading her mind, probably for his own amusement, for he had clearly noticed the hostility between his two representatives. In any case, Ren was pretty sure Hux would be able to sense a mental invasion; he imagined her mind as a series of meticulously arranged, coded and alphabetized shelves, and anything out of place would surely not go unnoticed.
Other options were very much open, however. His station as Snoke's apprentice made him virtually untouchable, and he flaunted that to Hux whenever possible. She couldn't punish him, could barely reprimand him, and even then never in front of anyone else for fear of Snoke's wrath (his Master seemed to be the only one with the ability to unnerve her). Her relative powerlessness when it came to Ren infuriated Hux, he could sense it. Determined to uncover more information to aid him, he read every datafile on her, both from the First Order and from her days at the infamous Imperial Academy on Arkanis. While most of it was boring academia, some files were intriguing. And it was the content of one of those files that led Kylo Ren straight to the officers' training quarters one morning.
She didn't see him for a long while, further confirming his suspicion that she wasn't Force sensitive. He relaxed against the wall in relative shadow, watching her beat the stuffing out of a training bag. Her movements were clipped and precise, with quick strikes from hands and feet, meant to incapacitate her opponent with minimal damage to herself. He supposed she had to do it this way, being slight and thin, clearly unable to take a prolonged assault from a bigger enemy.
He stepped forward, but she was still so focused on pummeling the bag that she didn't notice until he was a few feet away. He paused to take his rival in; her pale skin was flushed with exertion and shone with sweat, every muscle taut beneath her gray bodysuit. Her carefully styled hair was now a messy bob of red curls, some plastered to her forehead. Ren's breath caught in his throat as she delivered another blow to the bag, sending stuffing flying. Determination rolled off her body in waves, strong enough to make him shudder; he had never seen her look so undone and yet so magnificently focused.
For a moment, Kylo Ren was very human and very confused at his own thoughts, and she, of course, chose that very moment to notice him.
"What the blazing hell are you doing?" They were alone in the room, a servant having entered with water and towels, frozen in horror, and then left as fast as his legs could carry him.
Ren rallied, forcing disdain into his voice. "Watching what I presume is your juvenile attempt at hand-to-hand combat."
Hux usually reminded him of an icy mountain on Hoth, but now she looked more like a dormant volcano, the ice cracking to reveal the waiting, boiling magma. She wiped a hand across her sweaty face, appraising him with all the arrogance of the First Order, poster child of it that she was. But she said nothing.
"I've been reading," he continued, "about your exploits at the Academy. Seems you had quite the reputation."
Hux quirked an eyebrow at him, still breathing hard yet clearly trying to regain command of her voice. "And you came all the way here to tell me that?"
"I wanted to see for myself what skill you possessed. You won the cadet combat tournament at the age of fifteen. I confess I expected something... extraordinary." He made a show of looking her up and down in an unimpressed fashion.
To his surprise, she laughed, a high and clear sound that bounced off the walls. "Sorry to disappoint you, Ren." She made a mock bow, her bodysuit straining with the effort. "I will try to restrain myself from sobbing uncontrollably."
Behind his mask, he almost smiled. "See that you do. It's unfortunate for the First Order to be led by a woman, let alone a weak one."
Her response was a sudden motion. Ren almost stepped back, but the Force stopped him in the knowledge she wasn't going to attack him. He stayed motionless as she delivered a round kick to the bag, hard enough to send it flying off its chain and into a pile of training weights. The pulse of rage from her was delicious, making him giddy and now wholly certain he had found a sore point.
"I sense," she said icily in the terrible din as the weights crashed and clattered, "that you do not approve of my position on this ship."
"I wonder what gave you that idea." Ren kept his voice in the measured drawl he knew she hated. Maybe she'd lash out at him and give him a reason to hurt her. And with the confusing thoughts in his mind earlier, hurting her, even killing her, would be smart. She was clearly dangerous, and would only become more so with the growth of the Order's power.
"Good thing, then," she sneered, "that your approval isn't worth spit. Supreme Leader Snoke chose me personally to lead his assault, and last I heard, his lapdog doesn't have the authority to question me."
Kylo Ren saw red, his fists clenching as he contemplated crushing her long, pale throat on the spot. She clearly noticed his change in posture, but kept her stance without a trace of fear as the crackling buzz of his lightsaber filled the space.
"Watch where you point that thing," she warned quietly as he advanced on her. "Your damn temper won't be the death of me."
He had to give her some credit for standing her ground. Running was useless; he was between her and the exit, and had the Force at his command. He knew he could kill her easily now. And he also knew, just as easily, that he would not. She was too useful to Snoke. And where others faced with his wrath had dissolved into a quivering mess, Hux blazed in fury, challenging him. The perfect left hand to his right, with Snoke guiding them both.
He exhaled, now just a foot away, and deactivated the saber. From here, he could see every freckle on her face, her pink lips pursed into a tight line. She also let out a breath, and he heard the whine of a blaster being powered down. Somehow, she had one in her hand, pointed straight at his abdomen. As his anger dissipated, he wondered where it came from, or how he could have missed it.
For a few silent heartbeats, they regarded each other.
"If you're so convinced of my weakness," she suddenly said, "why not a friendly challenge?"
He stared at her, curiosity tugging at him despite his first instincts. When he didn't reply, she continued, and he didn't like the smug look in her bright, blue eyes.
"A martial challenge, if you will. Ten minutes of combat with non-edged weapons. No using your... hokey stuff or mind tricks. Just pure fighting prowess. The one with least injuries at the end wins."
Ren barked out a laugh. "Are you joking?"
But she wasn't, not in the way she looked at him, and suddenly he felt they had reached an interesting point in their non-relationship.
"If you win," she said, "you get to skip every boring protocol meeting for the next three months. And I'll deliver the reports from those meetings, along with your dinner, to you personally each night during that time. Like a weak woman should."
He imagined her at his door with a food tray in her hands, a proud General reduced to a common servant. It was a tempting offer, an easy way to stomp all over her authority. His thoughts ran away with the possibilities, the little humiliations he could enforce on her for three whole months. He looked at their reflections in the mirror on the far wall, her small body dwarfed by his muscular frame. Oh, she had no chance of winning, even if he didn't use the Force.
He almost agreed outright, before remembering something crucial, yet silly because it would never happen.
"And if you win?" he asked, voice rasping through the filter in his helmet.
She regarded him evenly, her answer immediate. "You take off your mask and show me your face."
Ren grimaced. It was a shrewd request. His persona on the ship was drenched in secrecy and terror. Few (mostly medics) had ever seen his face, and he could recall on one hand the number of instances he had taken off his mask in the presence of another. If Hux saw him without it, it would severely undermine him.
His face, he knew, was not threatening. It was soft, with big dark eyes and full lips. He had felt some wisps of attraction in the pool of fear among the female medics who had seen it, knew they found him handsome. He had been surprised to hear their clear, if terrified, thoughts. Truthfully, he hated the sight of himself, and only looked in the mirror to shave. His face, those eyes, made him human, vulnerable. Less like his grandfather and more like...
He shook his head, banishing the thoughts of his old life, returning his gaze to Hux. It didn't matter. She would lose.
"Done," he replied, and she smiled.
"Let's get started then."
It occurred to Captain Phasma, as she watched the unusual scene unfold before her, that she had never seen General Hux fight. Sure, they'd been out on TIE training runs, and sometimes the General would join them in her own ship, to "stretch her legs" as she called it. Phasma recalled that Hux was a fairly decent pilot, if a bit rigid in her maneuvers. But she'd never seen the General raise a hand to anyone, let alone what was happening now.
It had started a few minutes prior, in the large communal training room. Phasma had looked up from her own sparring match to see the General enter with purpose in her face. As the various officers and soldiers scrambled from their exercise mats to salute, Hux had ignored them all and walked to a wall panel. Removing two practice staves from the alcove, she'd turned on her heel and left in total silence.
Phasma knew she should probably not pry, but curiosity got the better of her, especially when the noises started. It was the unmistakable sound of a full-on fight, and it was pretty close to the hallway through which the General had left. Telling herself that she was just going to check for security purposes, Phasma walked to the console that held camera views of the entire training facility. A few button clicks brought her to the hallway in question, which connected the communal rooms to the officers' private training quarters.
Behind her, Phasma heard a gasp.
"What the balls?" Major Geerts, a beefy man puffing from exercise, stood gaping at the screen and the scene transpiring therein. Some lower-ranking officers were also gathering for a closer look, and Phasma quickly shut off the feed.
"Sir," she managed as respectfully as possible, "I believe we are intruding on a private matter."
"Damn right we are," he grinned, his ruddy face still in disbelief, and shoved past her to turn the camera back on. Worse still, he projected the feed to the bigger screen on the wall, thereby showing the entire room what was happening. Phasma cringed and stepped away. He outranked her, but he was stupid. If either of the two people on the screen discovered this little broadcast, it would be the end of him, and anyone else in the room for that matter.
But, horrified as she was at the thought of being killed in the middle of her rather stellar career, Phasma could not look away.
They circled each other within a radius that was just out of reach of their weapons. Phasma had never seen Kylo Ren without his cloak, and noted that his lithe, muscular body left little to be desired. He was dressed in form-fitting black from head to toe, with a wide belt from which hung his infamous lightsaber. Phasma noted he refrained from using it, which meant this was not a "real" fight. The intensity in his stance, however, picked up by the enhanced camera, spoke volumes about how much it mattered.
The General was clearly holding her own. Her hair was a mess and she was dripping with sweat, but her stance was relaxed, even swaying. Phasma knew this fighting style, knew how disarming it could seem until the strike was delivered. The general reminded her of a snake, or a quick bird of prey, facing off against Ren's predatory strides, his slow circle like a Takodana wolf waiting for a chance at the death blow. Phasma realized she was holding her breath.
"Holy shit," said Geerts behind her. "I knew the General had balls, but that seems pretty suicidal."
"Why are they fighting, sir?" asked someone else, hesitant and clearly of lower rank.
"Who the fuck cares?" Geerts chortled. "This is a show I don't want to miss."
Phasma gritted her teeth. The idiot. Whatever compelled Kylo Ren to spar with Hux, she was sure it wasn't good. Ren had never gone into the training facility before, choosing to practice... whatever it was he did... on his own. His presence here meant he sought the General out on purpose. And Kylo Ren with a purpose never bode well.
Phasma smiled despite herself. She had noticed the tension between Ren and Hux on several occasions, but never paid it much mind, attributing it to the stress of daily life on the Finalizer. But perhaps it was more personal. It certainly seemed that whatever animosity lurked between them had finally found an outlet. In a way, Phasma was almost glad. Nothing like a good fight to put things back in order. She supposed even someone as remotely human as Ren needed it, too.
As the gathered crowd watched, Ren finally made his move, and Phasma knew Hux had been relying on his impatience. She stepped easily to the side, lashing out to throw him off balance, but the dark warrior was phenomenally quick, blocking her strike with his own weapon, and stepping away again. They were still testing each other, Phasma realized, still not willing to unleash a full assault until they'd tasted each other's will to fight.
Anticipation coiled in her belly as she watched them, and a rush of blood flooded her cheeks. Phasma was glad she was at the forefront of the crowd, where no one could see her flushed face and dilated pupils. Seeing this dance excited her more than she cared to admit. It had been a long time since she'd seen two equally matched opponents go all-out. On camera, General Hux licked her lips and spoke. They couldn't hear it, but Phasma imagined she was taunting Ren into another attack.
It worked. He lunged, and the General parried his blow, aiming a kick to his neck. Ren grabbed her ankle and yanked, sending her flying to the floor. She rolled away as his staff bounced off the mat where she'd been a second before, and came to her feet in time to parry another blow. Like two electrons, they fell apart again, and then crashed together at dizzying speed, again and again, a blur of grey and red and black.
Captivated as she was, Phasma didn't notice Geerts stream the sound feed from the camera into the room. Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sharp breathing of the combatants. Hux had sustained a few solid blows, and blood trickled down her pale neck. Ren's injuries were hidden by the head-to-toe suit, but his slight limp signaled that Hux had landed a few hits of her own. He tilted his helmet at her, voice ragged through the speaker.
"Had enough, General?"
Hux spat out blood and chuckled. The action was unlike anything Phasma had seen from the normally aristocratic and aloof officer. This was more of a soldier's skirmish, and Phasma wondered just how much she did not know about Emmeline Hux.
"Tell me," she taunted casually, spinning her staff in slow circles, "do the Knights of Ren fuck like they fight? ...Hesitantly?"
Amid the combination of gasps and hoots in the training room, Phasma barely heard Kylo Ren's response. He straightened up, every inch of his impressive height meant to intimidate, his dark aura almost palpable through the camera feed.
"Come closer and I'll show you."
Hux grinned, and Phasma could see how some of the stories about her were justified. The General wasn't just unafraid. She was enjoying this.
That is one strange woman, the captain thought as Hux attacked again. This time, Ren deflected her strikes over and over, but she kept up the assault, surprisingly driving him a few steps back in sheer ferocity. Her blows were not strong, but they were fast and consecutive, allowing no time for rest. Ren's, on the other hand, were slower but full of strength, and one of them, placed correctly, could easily knock her unconscious.
A swing connected with Hux's torso, and before she could recover, Ren spun her around and dragged her into a chokehold, holding his staff against her throat, pressing her backwards into his solid frame. He lifted her off the ground, forcing her hands to cling to his staff as if she were doing a pull-up to avoid being choked to death. From behind her, his head lowered to the crook of her neck as he spoke, breathing hard, into her ear.
"Yield to me."
She struggled to speak, all efforts focused on keeping the staff from choking her. Ren was clearly stronger, and Hux's face began to grow more red, her eyes more wide.
"He's gonna kill her!" someone yelled in the back, but Phasma waved her hand. She did not believe for a moment that Kylo Ren would do something so stupid.
"Captain, we have to stop him-"
"Hold your positions," Phasma said without turning around. "This isn't over yet."
But Hux was losing her battle quickly, and choked out something that sounded like a curse. The Knight of Ren spoke again, and the command in his voice was unmistakable.
"Yield, Emmeline."
The gathered company murmured in astonishment, as no one, no one, had ever called the General by her given name. This fact also did not escape Hux herself, as her eyes grew wider still. A few seconds passed, and then-
She suddenly went slack in Ren's arms.
Phasma stared, for a moment actually believing he'd choked her into unconsciousness. But as Ren stumbled slightly, caught off balance by the dead weight of her body, the General abruptly raised her heel and slammed it with all her might on the top of Ren's foot. He wore boots, and Phasma wondered with exhilaration why she would deliver a non-damaging blow. The reason became obvious when, instinctively, Ren raised his foot, throwing himself more off kilter. His embrace of Hux slackened, and keeping her grip on his staff, she jerked it up and backwards, ramming him in the face.
Phasma almost laughed out loud as the clang of metal hitting helmet reverberated through the room. The din in Ren's ears must have been awful, for he looked momentarily stunned, and it was all the General needed. She crouched, and with a strength wholly alien to someone her size, grabbed his shoulders and hurled him over her.
The soldiers behind Phasma erupted in cheers as Ren landed on his back with a heavy thud. Hux wasted no time, grabbing her own fallen weapon and straddling him. Her arm rose and fell faster than a blink, and her staff impaled the mat centimeters from his head.
Silence descended as the General glared fiercely at her opponent, crouching over him like a deadly insect, her knees on either side of his neck. Blood dripped from her hair and onto his helmet as she leaned down, cradling his head in an almost lover's embrace. Her forehead touched his, an oddly intimate action in such a dangerous situation.
"We are not," she said, almost too quietly for the speakers to pick up, "on a first name basis."
Ren's chest was heaving, though Phasma was unsure whether it was with anger or surprise. It didn't matter. She won. I can't believe she fucking won.
"You owe me," Hux said, climbing off the dark figure and fixing him with an imperious stare. "Our deal."
Phasma's eyebrows rose, if possible, even higher.
In response, Kylo Ren stood up and extended a gloved hand. Hux visibly flinched, expecting a Force attack, but he merely called his cloak from the floor into his grasp.
"You should remind your subordinates of the penalties for unsanctioned surveillance," he said, pulling up his hood, all traces of his injuries swallowed by darkness. "Or I will... unpleasantly."
General Hux's brow furrowed as Ren swept from the room without a backward glance. Then, she looked up at the ceiling, straight into the camera, and her face, flushed with victory, quickly changed. The death glare in her blue eyes initiated a very hasty retreat by the crowd in the training room. And as Phasma followed the others out, she fought to keep the grin off her face.
I wonder what that bet was about.