Unity Chapter 2 Don't Call Me Ishmael

"Arm-Al!"

"Brendol Carolus," Armitage said, as haughtily as an eight-year-old could manage. "My name is Armitage Alexander, and I'll thank you to remember it."

"Well I'm Bren, Arm-Al," Bren protested. "Brendol is Father."

Armitage sniffed. "Father is Brendol Damascus. You are Brendol Carolus. And I am Armitage Alexander."

Bren flopped inelegantly down on Armitage's bed. "Father said something weird. He said to not let you be Ishmael."

Armitage frowned, considering. "There's an old story," he said slowly. "A woman couldn't have children, so she gave her maidservant to her husband, so they could have a child that way. The maid had a son called Ishmael. Then the wife had a son called Isaac. One day, the wife found Ishmael mocking Isaac. So she had her husband drive out the maid and Ishmael."

"I don't get it," Bren frowned. "I mean, I know your mother was Father's maid, but what's that got to do with me?"

Armitage stared at the window. It was the Monsoon, so the anti-flooding wall shutters were down. Solid durasteel covered the window, without the transparisteel pane most bedrooms had. "I rather suspect Father was telling you to make sure I know I am inferior to you," he said distantly. "He certainly shows it himself, but he probably thinks you're letting my age make you overly deferential."

"But Father really doesn't treat you like me," Bren protested, waving about vaguely. Armitage's bedroom was, more accurately, a re-purposed utility room, the sheet fresheners and clothes presses replaced with a small bed, a little chest of drawers and a tiny desk. Bren's room, by contrast, was the second-largest bedroom turn nursery, and in addition to more elegant furniture similar to Armitage's, boasted a wardrobe full of formal wear for when the Commandant was entertaining and a small library of reference books and informative texts, which both boys hoped their Father didn't know Armitage also read. Bren was invited to their Father's dinner table half the time, while Armitage was most definitely persona non grata. The Commandant occasionally called Bren into the study and lectured him about the rights and responsibilities, duties and privileges of being a Hux, Brendol's expectations for Bren's career, and how Bren would make the Hux name even greater than their forefathers' had. Armitage had only been in there to receive punishment for petty or even imagined misdeeds. Bren was the apple of Brendol's eye. Armitage was the skeleton in his cupboard.

Armitage sighed. "He doesn't approve of me, but you do. He's probably concerned that you'll start deferring me just because I'm your elder."

"But…that means…when we're both in the First Order…" Bren frowned, thinking. "You'd be my superior officer, and a Hux does not shame his superior, because a man's shames must be his own. To shame another is to shame yourself."

"Another of Father's lectures?" Armitage snorted. "You'll overtake me in rank soon enough." He smiled and wrapped an arm around his baby brother. "You can be the grand moff, or whatever they decide to call the highest rank, and I'll be your loyal second in command. We'll do better together than either could do alone."

"I'd like that," Bren whispered. "Will you come back from the Academy for the Monsoon Break and teach me everything you've learnt?"

"I promise," Armitage whispered back. "And when you start, we'll have our own private study room hidden away somewhere, and I'll help you live up to Father's expectations."

"That's really not fair on you," Bren protested. "All that work, and I get the credit?"

"Brendol Carolus, you just listen, Armitage said firmly. "You will be the finest Hux the galaxy has ever seen. Not me, you. Father has made that quite clear. I can either oppose you or support you, and if it looks like I'll outshine you, Father will see to it I don't I'm just the family bastard. I'm not fit for more than a trusted retainer – if I prove loyal enough to step back for you. So the better you do, the better I'll be allowed to do. It's not fair, but it's the way it is."

Bren snuggled up to him. "Still don't like it," he mumbled. There was a pause. "Arm-Al?"

"Mm?"

"Would Father ever send you away? Like Ishmael in the story?"

Armitage looked away. "If you'd been born before the Fall and the Exile, I probably would have been sent away then," he admitted. "He couldn't risk disposing of me until he was sure of a legitimate heir. And now, there aren't enough of Imperial blood to justify losing me. I can still be of some use, and necessity outweighs the embarrassment. But if I prove to be…a liability, he'll get rid of me."

"I don't want him to get rid of you," Bren said stubbornly.

"Until you outrank him, there's nothing you can do," Armitage shrugged.

Bren stared at the floor and chewed his lip. "What about…trackers? Under the skin? So if you are sent away, I could find you again."

Armitage chuckled. "If you could do that-"

"I can!"

He pressed a kiss to Bren's forehead. "You are the best brother I could ask for."