The Jedi Prince and His Ginger Weirdo
Suggested Theme:
Main Theme- Golden Dance by David Bowie
Ben Organa Solo was not surprised when the First Order debate team lost in the end. There was only member of the four that had any charisma: Armitage Hux. The nineteen-year-old burned with a passion as fiery as his hair and countered New Republic idealism with harsh reality. The audience and judges, all of whom from the New Republic since this took place on Chandrila, agreed that he gave the best speeches in the event's history.
Unfortunately, his teammates couldn't even come a Hoth snowflake chance in the Seven Sith Hells close to him.
Now, said deadweights cling to the walls with sour looks and licking their wounded prides. He can hear them thinking about how it was rigged and they shouldn't have bothered to enter.
Ben rolls his eyes.
Sore losers. If they're the future of the First Order, mom has nothing to worry about. The only way they could lead armies is by brainwashing them at infancy. Which they are probably doing if mom's spies are telling the truth. He looks at his mom chatting with the winners and rolls his eyes at the near-orgasmic looks at meeting the Leia Organa.
Ben, don't be vulgar.
The truth isn't vulgar. Like that Hux guy said. Where did he disappear to?
Yes, but I brought you up better than that. He went back to his hotel room.
And he's doing what in there?
Ben, it's against the New Republic Constitution to spy upon foreign dignitaries in the privacy of their rooms.
He could be building a bomb to kill us Republic scum.
We had all of their luggage thoroughly checked. The only odd thing was a data chip with a song.
A song? They have music in that Force-forsaken backwater?
Most likely, a propaganda piece like the Imperial March.
I doubt it's as interesting. What's it called?
"Golden Years."
Force, they'll never move on!
And that's why they're dangerous.
So who was carrying the data chip?
Armitage Hux.
The double doors, built shortly before the Treaty of Ruusan, slam open and reveal the young man himself. And everyone gasps at his attire.
Mom, why is he dressed like a prostitute?
I don't know!
Armitage Hux's torso is covered in light-green netting with holes the size of blaster wounds. His left arm is pink with old burns, while his other arm has glittery leaves pasted all over it. His pants are made of green leather with etchings of leaves that stop at his knee-high, purple-black leather boots.
He struts towards the center of ballroom like he's on the runway and even does a little sashay for holo-photographers, showing off his pert, little ass.
Ben, quit staring!
Mom, it's right there, demanding my attention!
"How do you do, New Republic, I'm Armitage Hux and I'm here to regain the First Order's honor!" Shockingly, no one in the crowd shouts what, not even his teammates who are far too horrified to breathe.
He then reaches a glittery right hand down his leather pants.
Mom, I think he's about to whip out his dick.
Oh, Force, no!
But the ginger pulls out a data chip and tosses it at the Mon Calamari DJ. The DJ wrinkles her gills in disgust at the lurid chip.
"Before you play that Misses DJ, I need a partner!" No one approaches, especially his teammates hiding their mortified faces with their colorless sleeves. "No volunteers? Well, I guess I'll have to choose. How about you, Jedi."
He crooks a spidery, white finger at Ben.
Ben, don't–
"Prince, actually." Because tonight he's escaped the Jedi trappings for his luxurious costume as Prince of New Alderaan. His sky-blue cape hangs drapes across one shoulder of his silver tunic and stays in place due to his grandfather's brooch. His shaggy black hair is tied back with his grandmother's silver ribbons.
"Then, Prince of the Jedi, may I have this dance?" Armitage bows like a commoner pretending to be a prince before another prince; the left, red hand planted on his left hip in a shape of a tea pot's handle, while the other does a foppish curtsy.
"Yes, you weirdo." The DJ inserts the chip. A string instrument starts to play. Armitage brings his hands up to clap, while Ben stands there feeling unsure of himself.
Just follow my thoughts, Prince. Now, I twirl and then we walk around in circles around each other.
And they do exactly that.
The flute's here, so I'll take your hand and kneel like I'm going to kiss it. And then you return the gesture. And we do this again and again, and then do it while circling.
What kind of dance is this?
A knight's dance. Okay, there's going to be a sound that's like cross between a snap and a clap. Right now. And we bend both our knees and have our palms facing up. Raise our arms and clap. There we go!
This is awfully repetitive.
It's the only dance I know. Now, we do the same thing but faster and quieter for one spin and then use our hands for a slower spin. Then, hook our pinkies together!
What are you five?
Now, we do a little bow before the crowd, Angel!
Ben does not blush. He happily splits off from Armitage to essentially do the entire dance all over again.
"Gooooolden years."
Now, just let loose!
Armitage's letting it loose consists of backflips and contorting his body in ways that shouldn't be feasible in leather pants.
"Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop."
And Ben's letting loose consists of fancy footwork and reminding himself to hide his crotch because his mom is watching him.
"Don't let me hear you say life's taking you nowhere, angel!
Look at that sky, life's begun,
Nights are warm and the days are young.
Come get up my baby."
Armitage returns to him, hooks their pinkies once more, and get closer like two idiots in love.
"There's my baby, lost that's all!
Once I'm begging you save her little soul!
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Come get up my baby!"
They have their hands tucked to their sides as they shuffle around each other on one leg like headless chickens dressed in leather and shimmersilk.
"Last night they loved you, opening doors, and pulling some strings, angel!
Come get up my baby.
In walked luck and you looked in time
Never look back, walk tall, act fine.
Come get up my baby."
They pause and share conspiring grins right before their finale.
"I'll stick with you baby for a thousand years
Nothing's gonna touch you in these golden years!"
Ben, with judicious use of the Force, hoists the lithe ginger up in the air and catches him in his arms like a bride. The ginger then gives a crooked-tooth grin at the holo-photographers.
Half the audience breaks out in applause and whistling, while the other half (including Armitage's team) are wondering if they have lost their minds. And then there is just one looking as disappointed as a mother can be with her son.
Ben gives Armitage a wet kiss on his cheek.
"You can put me down now, Prince." The ginger wriggles his eyebrows like he think it's sexy, when it's most certainly not, but it does cause Ben's breeches to become tighter.
It's his stupid accent! Like a guttural Coruscanti tinged with Naboo civility! Ben convinces himself for the moment.
"You really should put me down; I must be heavy for a sixteen-year-old to hold up." Ben feels his ego inflate twice its size; he's taller than his mom now and nowhere close to finishing puberty. Soon, he'll be taller than Uncle Luke, and he'll remind himself of that when Luke lectures him on the benefits of chastity tomorrow.
I'm fourteen and a half! Armitage's mind sputters like a broken pipe on the Falcon, while his blush consumes his freckled face.
Well, that explains why Senator Organa wants to melt my mind with her glare.
Partly. Mostly, it's because I'm her son.
He smirks as the color leaves Armitage's face as pale as Naboo's Rori.
I was really hoping to go on a date with you when you turned eighteen, but that's never going to happen.
Sixteen is the age of consent on New Alderaan and most systems in the New Republic.
Sixteen means you're an adult with all the rights and consequences that come with it in the First Order. Same when you're fourteen in most parts of the Unknown Regions.
That solves everything, doesn't it? We should just run off into the Unknown Regions!
I can't let you throw your future away.
What future? My family wants me to be the perfect Jedi.
Since you clearly loathe that, why not just buckle down and be a prince?
It's a superficial title at this point; my mother formally abolished the monarchy like my grandfather would have if not for a certain Death Star. However, the people have such great affection for outdated traditions like titles.
Okay, you want power, then why not become a politician? Politics is the swiftest and truest path to power. I think Palpatine said that once.
Oh, yeah, that will certainly convince my family!
Then, forget the Palpatine part and just be a politician. You can start off as an aide, work your way up to ambassador, and then take over as senator.
She would never let that happen; she loves fighting for democracy more than anything else.
I know how that feels.
How in the Force could you?
Because the Commandant loved my father more than me and that's why he left the First Order.
Ben finally puts Armitage down.
"I'm sorry."
"What for? It's not your fault." It's mine because I was never enough. Ben wants to pick him up again and run off with him into the Unknown Regions, get away from parents that don't think they're enough and be enough for each other. But Armitage is already walking away from him, and his mom is the one that stops him from following.
"You were holding onto him long enough for the media outlets on the HoloNet to comment on the close relations between you and the First Order." Force forbid, some of us want out of this pissing contest of a cold war that you and Mothma put us in! But Ben holds his tongue and tightens his mental shields.
"Ben…..what exactly were you thinking?"
"I was thinking about marrying that ginger weirdo."
"Oh, Ben, no."
Author's Comments- Here are the links:
This is the link to my favorite scene in A Knight's Tale and the dance that Hux and Ben does because I don't think I've read a fic with that dance in particular for this fandom: a href=" watch?v=yygNdTxoHus"Link/a
This is the David Bowie outfit that inspired Hux's outfit; I really only bothered the netting for the torso with a dash of Poison Ivy leaves: a href=" . "Link/a
Originally, this was going to be a lot more humorous with it ending with Force Ghost Anakin rooting from the Force about Ben going after a ginger, while all the other Force Ghosts shaking their heads. Instead, I went for a mortified Leia and a spiteful Ben that may or may not actually do that. He probably would since he's a Skywalker male and they have a strong ginger fetish.
I'm tempted to write a sequel to this.