Empire Day was no longer celebrated as widely as it once was.
In fact, it was barely celebrated at all; only in the most defiant and brazen communities that still craved the return of the Empire. The democratic Republic did not hold the same values of order, discipline and hierarchy; all the values that inspired strength and unity within the Empire, that had made it the powerhouse it once was.
Now, to celebrate the day that marked Palpatine ascending to the throne of Emperor and observe the importance of those Imperial values left one open to persecution. It was seen to be outdated, obsolete and, worst of all, that one did not stand with the Republic and the weakness it represented.
Armitage, of course, wholeheartedly believed that the Republic was but a poor imitation of his beloved Empire; the one he hoped he would see rise again in his lifetime and, if he worked hard enough, be part of it. Founded on the flaws of compassion and equality, the Republic would not last long and it would almost be worth enduring the Academy if it meant he had a hand in its downfall. If only he knew.
So it was only natural that the young redhead stood, brimming with honour, in his pristine cadets uniform. Even though his father never spared him a glance when the fireworks erupted overhead and the Imperial anthem "Glory of the Empire" droned from somewhere in the distance, Armitage was too immersed. There was perhaps no one present quite as enthusiastic about the proceedings as Armitage was; the staff noticed but put it down to his surroundings over the past few months. Tana tended to snap at anyone who used the word "brainwashed" but even she was beginning to see shadows, much to her dread.
Like the good old days of the Empire, attendance at the Hux Estate festivities was mandatory and mandatory meant keeping one's job; particularly when the Commandant was present. Brendol Hux stood with his wife (she was only that by title) and his daughter (whom he regarded as little more than a drain on his finances); a seemingly perfect Imperial family, minus the son. Or maybe they were more perfect in the reality of an Imperial family where absolute dread and misery were concerned.
Armitage, in his bliss, broke his concentration for one moment, just one moment, to glance along at his lover; the one he'd been reunited with only three days previous. Standing between her parents, her gaze had trained on the sky too but to his astonishment, it wasn't excited or passionate like his. Instead, Rosaline looked bored and disinterested. He stared long enough for it not to be noticeable and therefore, commented upon until he realized a bid to distract himself from his lover/sister's indifference, Armitage blinked and refocused on the exploding bursts of colour above.
Why was she not elated like he was? Why was she not in the very depths of fascination and pride at this joyous event? After all, the lengths gone to by the estate staff to set up such a gala had even been commented upon by the Commandant. Her exposure to it on the upper levels of the house must have been more luxurious than his in the lower ones so why wasn't she more enthusiastic? First the food, the decorations and then the fireworks, it made no sense.
When the last spark petered out and the last of the half-hearted applause died away, everyone went their separate ways; depending on where in the house they lived, of course. He chanced one last glance at Rosaline before she was shepherded by her mother towards the main front door and he was herded by his mother towards the back stairs of the cellar. In a split second in between though, one eye caught another and that was the signal.
Rosaline had "gone to bed" and would not be disturbed until morning. By that, she was supposedly in her room and so it would have to be taken at face value that she was indeed in there and not in one of the matchbox-sized rooms in the cellar. More to the point, it was assumed she was in her own bed, asleep and not in the bed of the kitchen boy, naked and breathless.
"Ohhhhh…."
"Shhhhshhshh…." Armitage's chest covered her back, to get closer to reach her ear but buried himself deeper at the same time. "My mother'll hear us, she can't hear us…." Still, his pelvis bounced off the meaty cheeks of her buttocks and both were close to coming undone in the fresh experience of it. This was new, the way he took her. He'd seen it in a dirty holo and upon explanation, she seemed eager to try it; to both their benefits, it seemed. "I'm nearly there, Rosie…."
Hands and knees bracing both her weight and part of his, Rosaline took him with no complaint and the utmost delight; as she usually did but that night was experimental. Even though (when he leaned forward) Armitage could only see one side of Rosaline's face as he roughly gave her every throbbing inch, hindrance struck him, and he couldn't help but observe: She was far more zealous then than she was at the fireworks. Like being rammed from behind was more delectable than being awestruck in memory of the Empire.
That beautifully alabaster face contorted with the waning fuck and another barely restrained moan, wary of his warning. The rapid snaps of skin on skin came to a bruising crescendo, marking something that wasn't quite completion but almost as Armitage gave one last snarl at the ceiling. When she suddenly no longer felt the pummels, Rosie knew why and reacted accordingly. Head on the pillow, mostly spent body relaxed along the bed and air expectant, it wasn't long before he her; or himself, to be precise. Armitage shuffled on his knees, one on either side of her, until he reached where he wanted to be.
The envelopment of scarlet-stained lips would finish him, the ones that would leave a faint reminder of the evening when he washed himself that night; what better way to end It?
"Good girl, Rosie..." He sighed with flickering lids; a symptom of pure pleasure as he reached back to knead an ivory breast. "Good girl, milk me..."
The wet heat of his Rosaline's mouth took the nudging thrusts with muffled whines of her own. This was the third time they'd indulged; the first was experimental in the shed, the second, she'd insisted upon in the garden and now it was becoming a habit. A habit enjoyed immensely and mutually but also a better way of disposing of the fruit of an encounter.
"Empire..." Almost... "Empire...!"
So much for discretion and subtlety. Cock aimed and loaded for the back of his sister's throat, Armitage kept her comfort somewhere in mind and so restrained himself from pushing further; like his impending orgasm dictated. But, like he'd murmured to her, she milked him still with gusto.
"Ahhh….! Ahhh….!" With little warning other than the sudden intensifying of the seemingly constant niggle, Armitage's (internal) body was hurled into an increasingly familiar state of euphoria; the only release, was a tiny trickle and an abundance of panting. He remembered to stop the pushing of his hips; slowing them to allow Rosaline to clean him properly before yielding completely and stroke that sliver of cum from her chin. She took it with her tongue and only then was she satisfied that he was as clean as she could make him.
With the primal urges out of both their systems, they opted for something more human; something that saw Armitage fold down on the bed beside her to sate the need for closeness. Lips pressed to hers in a series of worshipping pecks and a weapon-adept hand cradling her pinkened cheek; Rosie never had any doubts that she was adored.
"Did you enjoy the fireworks?" As soon as his lungs, his brain and every other vital organ had become replenished with blood and oxygen, Armitage decided to test the water; while his stare could have been taken as veneration, he used it also to monitor her reactions. "They lit up your face so magnificently, I found it difficult to look anywhere else." He knew that shy, slow lowering of her lashes all too well, her usual response to flattery but the slight pursing of her lips suggested hesitation; like Rosaline was choosing her words carefully.
"They were beautiful." She responded with the barest touch of wariness; enough for Armitage to pick up on like he had learned in interrogation training. "A novelty, something to look at; an excuse to leave the house."
"So, you weren't bored? I heard someone remark you looked bored." Another standard tactic; blame someone else, protect yourself and appear as a friend. "And not just the fireworks; surely the whole house was decked out in honour of Empire Day?" Discomfort started to noticeably ebb at Rosaline's prepossessing features; whether she knew he was purposefully putting her in a corner or not, he wasn't sure yet. "I'm quite sure I saw some Imperial delicacies being prepared in the kitchen but, unfortunately, I didn't get to sample any."
"I really should go." Rosaline sat up quickly without giving an answer and looked over the side of the bed for her dress to avoid looking at Armitage. "Big day tomorrow; music lessons and-"
"Why didn't you enjoy Empire Day?" Cutting to the chase, Armitage stared intently at the creamy expanse of his sister's back until her gaze returned to his; immediately, she was unnerved. "The Republic aren't capable of ruling this galaxy, Rosie. You know the Empire is going to be restored, why not commemorate it? It is, after all, inevitable."
"Commemorate it?!" The blue-eyed beauty repeated with something akin to horror; the closest her emotionally repressed upbringing would allow, at least. Women should be seen and not heard and they certainly shouldn't be seen to be disagreeable; or so her mother had told her. "Commemorate what?! Genocide?! Terror?! That awful weapon?! Armie, what has that Academy done to you?!"
"It's made me see the truth, Rosie!" He spat, frustrated by her blindness; the whole galaxy seemed to wear the same blindfold. "It's educated me in the hidden history of the Republic and the Empire! The Republic is guilty of its own atrocities and continues to be but where I am now, I can do something about it!"
"I'm leaving, Armie." Rosaline declared with an edge of pity and resignation after a bout of stony silence. "I'm not having this argument with you, not now."
"Of course you won't!" He barked with irate vexation as she started to dress; just the bare minimum and enough to leave. "Because you know it's the truth! Cling to the lie of the Republic all you want but it won't last!" Dressed and having had enough, Rosaline turned to leave but Armitage's barrage wasn't quite finished so his words followed her. "Peace won't last! Order won't last! And when it doesn't, you'll want to be with the winning side which won't be the Republic!"
Childish? Maybe. Brainwashed? Certainly.