Alaria Velont was an exceptionally beautiful individual. Both physically and spiritually. She was small in stature, fragile, delicate. Pale with great green eyes and long, wavy blonde hair, she was captivating. Kind, sweet, gentle and timid by her very nature. Loving to a fault. The flowers and the animals fascinated her. Painting, drawing and walking in the sun were her favourite things to do.

The worst thing to do to a woman like that is to force her into a marriage. Especially a shallow, loveless one. Alaria was only twenty four when she gifted to Brendol Hux before the days of the Galactic Empire drew to a close. She soon became Alaria Hux after that. Her life was relatively changed and unchanged. She still had the freedom to do what she pleased but in a different home on a different planet, far from her family.

She did not have the luxury of waiting to fall in love. Her life was seemingly already planned out for her and love was not part of that plan. Before this marriage, love had always been part of her plan. Brendol Hux was Commandant of the Arkanis Academy, a training facility for Imperial Troops. His position was important but she didn't know exactly what it was. He rarely spoke to her, after all.

Brendol was an exceptionally tall man, towering at least a foot over his young wife. While his hair was flaming red, though starting to grey; his eyes were an icy blue - Something of a reflection of his personality and demeanour. She found him to be staunch, firm and quite unnerving. He also had nearly fifteen years of life experience on her. Brendol was far too involved with his work and his duty to pander to her and he had no qualms in informing her of that fact. It soon became clear to Alaria that the only interest he had in her was securing a legacy; a son.

He was due back soon after several months away at the Academy. Little was expected of her but being present and receptive when he came home was part of her duty as his wife. He had left for the Academy a mere few days after the wedding. The wedding night had not been fruitful nor any of the nights that followed before his departure. He had inquired for several weeks from the Academy, checking in with advisors in the villa to see if his wife was showing any signs of pregnancy but so far, nothing.

Dressed in a long, flowing gown as only the lady of the house would wear, Alaria waited a safe distance from the landing strip where her husband's ship had just touched down. The ramp dropped and that familiar foreboding figure started to descend. Her breath caught up in her chest, knowing what to expect that night. Was she attracted to him? Maybe. She didn't really know any better. As usual, his uniform, his hair and his posture were pristine or so she noticed as he approached her.

"Alaria." He greeted with little interest, taking up her hand and laying a half-hearted kiss to it, merely out of chivalry rather than affection.

"Beautiful as always."

"Thank you, Commandant." She answered submissively, slipping her hand back to her side when he released it. She never used his name and she suspected her preferred that. It made things less personal.

"You'll dine with me, won't you?" He inquired, gesturing for her to follow him towards the villa. This was part of the process, the ritual. She knew it well by now.

"Of course."

Brendol could admit his wife was beautiful. What he wouldn't admit was the luck he'd obviously been graced with to be paired with her in the first place. She'd been a gift, though he wasn't so crude as to call her that. An arrangement was the term he preferred to use. Aside with the delay in pregnancy, she was perfect. Timid, meek, gentle and servile. She complained about nothing and did her duties well, for someone so young at least.

Her head was in the clouds somewhat but he was sure that a child would ground her. Seated across from her at a long dining table, conversation was very sparse. He drank wine, she did not. Alcohol would affect the chances of conception, or so she'd been told so it was better to abstain. They ate and drank mostly in silence. They didn't have much to say to each other. They led very different lives; his was rigorous and ordered while hers was dreamlike and lazy.

Their plates were taken away and again, they sat in silence. They both knew what was coming. He would instigate it. He always did and she would comply. When Brendol finished his wine, he got to his feet (surprisingly efficiently for the amount he'd consumed) and brought his wife to bed.

"Commandant. Good news. Your wife has just been with a healer. They've just confirmed that she is in fact pregnant." The transmission was sent to the Academy, he had requested to be kept updated and this was the news he'd been waiting for. It was finally falling into place. Alaria sat on her bed, not looking at anything in particular, stuck in a daydream and reeling from the news.

Not necessarily in a bad way but the reality of it hit her now. She had a baby growing inside her. A child was beginning to occupy her body. This little one would rely on her to grow and be healthy until it came for him or her to be born. Even when it was, she would be its mother. She would be the one it be dependent on most. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would it (she hated calling it 'it') have blonde hair? Red hair? Black hair? Blue eyes? Green eyes?

Those little details excited her. The blonde walked the gardens, her hand never seeming to leave her swollen stomach nor would it for the next seven months or so, having learned she was approximately two months along. It made sense to her to take in the weather, the sun and the fresh air before the season changed. She would be confined inside long enough when the rain would prevail and her feet would be too sore; she would enjoy it while it lasted.

Labour was an experience. It was quite simply the most terrifying and strenuous thing she had ever endured. Pushing when she was told to push, Alaria sat up in her bed with her legs open. At random intervals, there would be a squeak of crippling effort as sweat poured from the fragile female in the depths of discomfort. Every second that went by was agony and it didn't seem to be alleviating any time soon.

Naturally, Brendol wasn't present. He was at the Academy, waiting for an update, knowing already that she was in labour. Panting and whimpering; Alaria fought tirelessly for hours, willing herself not to pass out. It'll be over soon. She told herself repeatedly. It'll be over soon and it'll be worth it. The female's whimpers developed into fully blown sobs and she heard the healer say something about the baby crowning. I hope so…. She had to fight harder.

The backbreaking seconds turned into minutes and after that, she lost track. The agony was so intense that she just crumbled over and over again, digging her own nails into her palms in a vain attempt to distract her from the burnings and strain below. It didn't work. Eventually, mercifully, she heard it. The squalling cry of a new-born. Alaria collapsed back into her pillows and watched, exhausted, as her baby was washed. It still cried but she was thankful for that. It meant it was alright. It was dried and bundled up then carefully laid into her shaking arms.

"It's a boy." For a moment, she didn't know what to do but when she looked down into the bundle, it clicked. There he was. His cries had died away to soft little groans of curiosity and just then, they shared a moment, a moment when a bond was forged. She took him in as she broke down again but for a different reason this time; relief, joy and love.

His eyes were blue and inquisitive while a shock of dark chestnut hair decorated his head. It would change colour as he grew but his mother didn't know that. Nor did she care. He was perfect. She had found love after all.

"Sir? It's a boy."