((One shot! ))
His father would be furious if he knew. Not because of the fall of the Empire, the death of his beloved Emperor and his attack dog, Darth Vader. Not with the prospect of going into hiding or embracing his inner coward, by lying low in uncharted sectors of the galaxy like a swamp rat; no, not the once great Commandant Hux. It suited him to leave his bastard son in the care of his mother; to drag a small child with him would hinder his own narrow escapes and he already knew there would be plenty of those. But the real reason his father would be absolutely incensed would be the bubbling excitement and the inability to keep still that the little redhead could not control. However, his mother was not his father.
"Put your coat on!" His mother, a pretty and sweet young woman of kitchen employment instructed gently, holding out the garment while he slipped both arms into the sleeves. "It's very cold outside, darling, you'll need it!" He may or may not forget that particular ritual when he grew, that this was indeed the correct way to wear a coat. She watched him while he attempted to do the buttons himself; he always insisted he was big enough and while she always ended up re-doing them for him, she felt a stab of pride when he tried. Now more than usual, she was absolutely endeared by the simmering delight of the evening ahead; like any four-year-old would.
Little Armitage Hux was not born of love. He was certainly not born in wedlock since his father was already married to another with little regard for loyalty to anything but the Empire. He was born simply of boredom on his father's side and desperation on his mother's; a desperation the Commandant had taken fully to his advantage. That was over four years ago and here he was; a product of strained consent but yet, his mother cherished him, even if his father didn't. She told him often; every day, in fact that she loved him dearly. She also proved it in the little ways that she could; like making sure he had butter with his bread at supper or warm water to wash with. Perhaps not a huge stretch for you or I but certainly for a lowly woman who had little else.
Hands gloved, torso encased and eyes sandwiched into a slit between his hat and a thick, heavy (heavy for a toddler, at least) scarf; there was no way Armitage (or Armie to his mother) would be cold on that dewy, Arkanis night. However, this wasn't just any Arkanis night. Tonight, celebration bloomed throughout the galaxy, weaving its way into every nook and cranny with seemingly everyone in high spirits; even the usually run-down staff on the Hux estate.
"Come on, sweetheart. We don't want to be late and miss it!" His mother ushered with his hand enveloped carefully in hers to prevent separation in the crowds and little Armie did his utmost to keep up. Away from the estate and the suffocating clutches of the Imperial elite, his mother could relax but even she had to question what this meant; the destruction of the Empire would no doubt have consequences but for tonight, she (like everyone else) would forget it just for tonight to join in the jubilation of invisible chains being removed from every planet and a chokehold of evil being dropped. The ordinary people could breathe again and now they gathered in thanks to their saviours: The Rebellion.
At first, Armie didn't understand why his mother hoisted him up into her arms with a small groan of effort and a pant as she adjusted him in such a way that they were both comfortable. He glanced around as the thrilled utterings died attentively and then it happened. The first unfamiliar high-pitched whistle came from somewhere ahead and above and his head swivelled just in time to see the explosion and hear the bang! as it crumbled. Colours! Broken streams of blue stuttered through the black of the night sky but didn't quite reach the stars before fading into pinpricks to make way for the next one. A cheer resounded in the field as another followed hot on the blue one's tail; a red one this time.
"Wooooowww!" The toddler's breath against her ear made her smile and though her arms had begun to ache, it was more than worth it to witness such wonderment. A yellow one shattered the sky and reflected in the little boy's astonished gaze as his chin tipped further and further upwards to greedily take it all in. The duelling smell of smoke and sulphur quickly began to become apparent but it was disregarded by the newly freed citizens of Arkanis when another bang brought a shower of crackling green sparks.
"It's wonderful, isn't it?" He almost didn't hear her over the roar of another firework that detonated into smaller purple blisters and the triumphant hollers around him that accompanied it. "The Empire is over, my love. We're free now, we're safe." Each promising crack illuminated the spellbound expression and though he heard her, he had no idea what she meant; what any of this meant. If she was happy (and he rarely saw her happy) and all these people were happy; surely it was a good thing? They began to run into each other; the quick succession matched his little heartbeat as his disbelieving grin seemed to widen with each one and his eyes tried to follow. The childhood innocence was at its peak; watching the display of utmost importance though he couldn't really place why. Was it the place of a child to try and untangle such an event and figure out how it affected them? Perhaps not. Just then, he was complacent to revel in the exultation with everyone else while his father squatted in a cave somewhere in the outer rim.
"Mummy, look!" The stunned gasp provoked a quiet chortle as he wiggled in her arms for the crescendo; when several shooting stars hurtled towards the centre; racing each other from various directions in the field at speeds that would put a pod-racer to shame. With a ground-shaking BOOM!, they collided, head-on, and burst onto the inky canvas above into a collage of colours, designs, and shapes with the resounding crackle that the wide-eyed Armitage would never forget. The child's shriek of utter joy became engulfed by similar ones around him but he paid no attention to anyone else. As the sky cleared and people started to dissipate, Armie's heart still thundered with pure adrenaline and awe even though the display had ended. It would stay with him for years, thirty years and more but how was he to know that as he began feel drowsy on his mother's shoulder?
In bed that night, Armie's dreams echoed the whistles, the cracklings and the hollers; not to mention the colours, the shapes and the speed. From behind closed lids, he replayed the entire display in high definition; each firework in the correct order and the reactions down to a tee as his own private show. His facial expressions twitched despite his slumber as if to match how they had done in the field (much to his mother's amusement) with the odd wriggle in the sheets as if trying to adjust himself for a better view.
How was he (or anyone) to know that, as he grew, that night of extraordinary excitement would lead to such bitterness? That he would look back on it in revilement? Some of the details had changed; some of them forgotten but he remembered how he felt that night and it only inspired shame that he had allowed himself to celebrate the end of the Empire. Somewhere in his subconscious, he tried to remind himself that he had been a child, that there was nothing he could have done to prevent the Empire from being destroyed. But then he reminded himself of his course; his calling. To undo what had been done and once more bestow the glory of the Empire; with or without the fireworks.