"I can't believe you shifted all of them!" The declaration was breathless, joyful and silenced almost immediately by a pair of enthusiastic lips pushed to hers.

"All bar one." Her husband panted in response, his body covering hers amidst the tangle of blankets collected over a lifetime. "I wanted one for myself from….. ahhh.… the first batch…."

"First batch…." Nalesse repeated in utter delirium while she took everything he gave her, adjusting her head to allow his face to burrow into her neck in a bid to cope with the flooding of a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. "We're in business, love!"

Armitage had healed well, remarkably well. He put it down to being extremely well looked after on his family's part and absolute determination on his own part; determination not to be a burden. He knew that if he had been brought to an Imperial base with the severity of injuries that he'd presented the crew with, he would have been written off as a lost cause and a failure: replaceable. He was none of those things in the eyes of the misfits that took him as he was and embraced him for all his faults; tweaked him within his own comfort, perhaps.

So confident in his healing was Armitage that he had no qualms whatsoever (in the midst of an adrenalized frenzy fuelled by a successful and fruitful arms deal) in taking his wife to bed. All those months of almost celibacy had simmered until they reached boiling point and the crescendo was now; writhing in the covers as one, using the marital bed to its biblical capacity.

"Fucking hell, I've missed you…." So many times, they'd come close but grudgingly thought better of it. Armitage (in his Imperial practicality) excelled at prioritising; though in this instance, it meant his other half had to be the strong one and withhold herself for the sake of his recovery. It was, however, typical that a pending com call would interrupt them. Well…. Maybe not fully interrupt.

"This better be important, Mort!" The redhead growled into the com without stopping the pummels of his lower quarters and no regard for sibling sensitivity; not that Mort or Nalesse indulged in that. "I am in the middle of making badly needed love to your sister!" Nalesse crumbled at the boldness, resting her forehead against his shoulder to cackle; an action that prompted a kiss to her temple and no respite in his fucking.

"Ohhhhh! So that's why you put on a tab for us!"

"Nothing escapes you, brother mine. What is it?!"

"The tab. What limit d'ya put on it?"

"There's no limit, Mort. Drink yourself stupider; we don't want to see any of you until morning!"

"Right you are, General. Sup Less?"

"My fuckin' husband and we're not gonna waste it so piss off!"

With the com abandoned (rather carelessly) to the bedside table, they re-immersed in each other. Noses aligned, lips close if not joined and peaks never far away; a better (physical) reunion could not have been imagined.

"I love you, you fuckin' psycho."

"I love you, you evil bitch."

He heard nothing after that, that damning com call. In it, Nalesse's disinterest was sealed and also, Mort's hatred; an unexpected and chronic sting. In one fell swoop, he'd lost the love of his life and the first (only) male friend he could confide anything in; his smoking partner. But he had to press on.

The second com call had gone suspiciously well. Arm feared an ulterior motive; a reasonable fear. Still, it lead to a great deal of draining research until the meeting subsequent to the second com call, a venture carried out in secret. With that stamp of approval (and he still didn't know how he obtained it), a purchase was made; a purchase for Maratelle's birthday weekend.

The night before his departure was due for Arkanis, Armitage received several files; a menu of the women to expect to meet at the gala, laid out as if they were criminals on a watch list. He browsed through them, half-hearted and pained when none of them were Nalesse Du Sade; they all looked alike, had similar names and wore the same grim expression. Not that they could be blamed, given their fate, of course.

Upon viewing those miserable creatures, he resolved to try Nalesse's com once more but the hopeless venture was, again, in vain. With any last-minute attempts at contact made and ignored; Armitage resigned himself and sent the coordinates of the estate to Nalesse and the time, the coordinates of the place he used to hide as a child before he was dragged away. There was no response. He sat there a little longer, silently begging the com to buzz; even if it was abuse, he would take it, just to hear her. When that avenue closed itself, he decided to try and sleep.

The food tasted like ash, the whiskey like piss and he'd never felt more scrutinized in all his life; that scowling bitch Maratelle wasn't even the worst part. They were all there, every single one of them though they looked more alike in person than in the files; even if they did try to distinguish themselves with a rainbow of extravagant gowns. Like peacocks in reverse, the colours weren't meant to attract him as such but the garish displays of wealth in what they wore, what their dowries would give him. And yet, it couldn't have mattered less. Any of it.

They tried to be pleasant, they tried to be flirtatious and they tried to be captivating but the efforts were forced; so why bother? Armitage thought. You don't want to be here, neither do I. Why subject us both to this? Routinely, he checked the personal chronometer on his wrist; as noticed, no doubt, by his father. He couldn't wait to leave, it couldn't have been clearer. When the anticipated time came, he excused himself for a smoke and left quickly enough before the Admiral could catch up.

Heart in his mouth, Armitage waited. If he tasted nic-i-tain, he would puke; he was sure of it. Cold, petrified and pulse pounding in his ears, he checked the chronometer again; the time had come and gone, long gone. Had he expected differently? Did he feel foolish for even having the bare hope that she would turn up? Was he disappointed in the extra minute after minute after minute that he waited, just in case she was late? She's not coming. Devastated, the reality hit and the layer of greatcoat covering his back protected him from the grazing of the tree bark as he lowered himself, dejected, against it.

The footsteps registered somewhere nearby, leaves crunching underfoot and twigs snapping all at once; someone riddled with impatience and fury who didn't care for the innocent foliage. His father had caught up with him somehow and so Armitage, tired of interference, drew his blaster. Listening intently, he followed the sound, took aim then-

"Oh so you tell me to come here and when I do, you're gonna fuckin' shoot me? That it?!" Relief! Unparalleled relief!

"You came…." The redhead instantly dropped his blaster arm and swallowed; his mouth suddenly as dry as Jakku. She looked…. tired, not her usual spritely self. The way she moved in an intimidating prowl hid something else: she'd been burned again since he saw her last. The ginger movement in her left arm, the one closest to the blaster on her belt, was more rigid and restricted than usual but he knew she would endure the torture if it came to defending herself. Would she kill him? Maybe.

"I had nothin' better to do." Nalesse retorted callously, hands on her hips; a danger sign Armitage had learned years ago. "So…. What? You kill me or he does it but you wanna make it quick 'cause you know what he'll do is worse? Am I close?"

"No…."

"Fill me in then. You said you wanted to gimme an explanation for being a twat, here I am. And make it quick; I got shit to do."

Where did he start? What did he say? He knew what he needed to tell her but how did he say it? How had he never thought about this? In all the times he'd sat and listened to her pour her heart out, how had he never thought about how he was going to articulate it? Time was running out; the dangerous incline of her head and the kink of her eyebrow told him so.

"I have to…. Get married. Nalesse." It came from nowhere, as if someone else spoke for him and immediately, the enormity of it hit him in the stomach; like the brief flitting of pain in her face that he almost didn't see. Wetting his lips and desperate to keep the moisture in his mouth rather than his eyes, he forced himself on. "I am under savage pressure and yes, a threat was made against you; a threat I will do anything to prevent-"

"So just roll on your back?! Show your belly?! Like a bitch?!" Nalesse spat immediately, teeth bared with no tolerance for the explanation she had travelled for. So much pain….. Armitage noted, though he was better at hiding it than her. The smuggler paced, hiding behind her own inky curtain when she felt she wasn't strong enough to face him without crumbling and that would not take long.

"I don't want this either, Nalesse." He tried to implore her quietly, endeavouring to plead with her without actually doing so. "I don't want to get married, I don't want to have children; not for the sake of someone else's satisfaction." He chanced a hazardous few steps towards her though he was conscious of the viper-like tendencies she'd displayed before; thankfully he hadn't been on the receiving end then. "They told me…." He began hesitantly without thinking it through. "That if I married, I could keep you on the si…." The look of absolute thunder in that sudden whip-around, made those words shrink into nothing, before he'd even finished.

"The actual fuck, Arm?!"

"But you don't deserve that." He clarified with a digging for strength, anything to ease her. "You deserve to be someone's sole focus, their everything and more; not an afterthought or a stand in." That, it seemed, was enough to tip her over the edge; the genuine appeal in trying to make her see his side. Nalesse was often volatile in her emotions but the pairing had never been teetering between fury and utter despair, not until recently, at least.

"Fuck this, I'm outta here…."

"No! Nalesse! Wait!"Caution thrown to the wind (and there was plenty of it on Arkanis) to follow the serpent, he needed to take the risk of the strike he might get. With longer legs, more adept footwear and a slightly clearer mind, she didn't get far. He was able to seize her by her upper arms, restrain and turn her until she had no choice but to face him, despite the significant struggle she gave. "Listen to me! I need you to listen to me!"

"I get it, Arm!" She hurled back, eyes glassy and lip trembling; emotions spilling to an extreme she was not accustomed to, not even in the last week. "I'm not good enough! I'm beneath you! I know that It was just meant to be fuckin' around, fuckin' around with someone so low you can just walk over her! I know I was never meant to be permanent!"

"Less!"With the hold on her arms abandoned, Armitage opted to clutch her face; icy hands being warmed by her cheeks in a last-ditch attempt to get through to her and force her to look at him. "Look at me! Listen to me!" What choice did she have? He was bigger than her, stronger than her and willing to use those attributes to make her stay. "I love you…."

"Stop…. For fucks sake, stop…."

"No, I do." Time to bite the blaster bolt while still holding her firm. "But I have a duty that I swore I would uphold, even if I didn't know what it meant at the time or what my emotional state would be; I was told it wouldn't matter." Laying himself bare came easier than it did before; it seemed to spew. "I was told that to be truly happy, I would put the greater good before myself; that meant marrying someone I probably wouldn't like, let alone love. It meant having children that would be little more than insurance policies and name carriers; but it would all be worth it when the new Empire rose and I would have done my share, done my duty."

Grief-stricken expression unchanged, Nalesse had given up on escape and instead, surrendered to wallowing in the inferiority of not being able to be with the person she loved. Armitage swallowed, knowing this to be the reason.

"I have spent so many countless hours being torn asunder internally…. Agonizing over what was right; not eating, sleeping and drinking to excess…. And all the while, it always came back to you; you were the cornerstone, the one thing that sent me back to square one every single fucking time."

So….

"I've decided that I can't do it." The beat in between didn't give her the opportunity to question it, despite how her air changed. "I won't." Slowly, Nalesse was released; as if she might flee suddenly if he relinquished her too quickly. Once he was satisfied that confusion had planted her, he began to root in his coat for the purchase specific to this weekend. "I have contributed enough to this galaxy in the tireless striving I do at the helm of the First Order and in Starkiller Base, a weapon we wouldn't have had I not taken the time to design it." Charmingly bewildered, the raven locked smuggler still had trouble connecting the dots; even when she followed his eyeline to the approved little box he'd dug from his greatcoat.

"In that logic…." He began, turning over the box before shimmying the lid to spy the intention ring he'd researched inexhaustibly; nothing too cumbersome or flashy, what use would she have for that? "I think I should be at liberty to marry who I wish." Opening it fully though not in an overly traditional proposal, the redhead fixated on her face, waiting for some sort of indication; for a yay or nay.

"Arm?"

"Yes, darling?"

"You're. A. Fucking. Prick."

"You've made that clear." He agreed reasonably with the box still waiting. "But that doesn't answer my question."

"Oh really?!" Armitage was a lover of technicality; not like his father who loved it when it suited him. He was now about to have that love weaponized, testily so with arms crossed. "And what question is that?!" Trust her to want to hear it.

"Very well." Seemingly defeated, an (Imperial) engagement was a formal affair and so he didn't think he'd ever have to utter these words out loud but…. "Nalesse Du Sade, will you-"

"Ah-ah!" Dissected again for her own bubbly amusement and to mildly punish him, Armitage pursed his lips while she returned to her old self before his very eyes. "Do it properly. One knee. Let's go."

"Nalesse, the ground is filthy-"

"Hey! D'you want me to be your fuckin' wife or not?! You gonna jeopardize this 'cause of a little dirt?! Do I gotta call Mort?!" She won. As always, she won and Armitage's gala uniform trousers suffered for it.

"Nalesse Du Sade, would you do me the incomparable honour of being my wife? Will you love me when I'm not worthy of loving, support me when I'm not worthy of supporting and be at my side always, regardless of health and wealth?"

"You changed it up, I like that."

"Focus, love."

"Right, right….. Y'know what?" Stall him, put him on edge and on edge she put him when those magnificent lavender eyes locked with the tidy, semi-practical ur-diamond in the intention ring. All the while, she savoured the squelching of mud under Armitage's imbalanced knee but breaking into a beam when she'd toyed with him enough. "Okay, g'wan so. I'll marry ya."

Had it been anyone else, in any other circumstances, they would have felt the wrath of his blaster. However, Armitage was well aware that not only did he deserve it, but he'd gotten off extremely lightly after everything he'd put her through. And she'd said yes! In keeping with the traditional engagement (that is seemed she preferred), the General placed the ring on her finger himself and rewarded his bravery with a lasting peck to his fiancé's lips.

"It's gorgeous…." She breathed with the closest thing he'd ever heard to awe from Nalesse Du Sade; entranced by the silver band and the little diamond winking in the moonlight. "It's actually perfect…"

"I was going to get you an engagement blanket." He teased, lighting up a well deserved cigarra from where he resettled against the tree. "But you have enough blankets."

"Ah but blankets are always welcome."

"And Balor agreed that the ring was practically made for you." Astonished, Nalesse rounded on her husband to be; speechless once again.

"Bal….? You spoke to Balor?" The smoke-spitting chortle suggested something coy, something he was exceptionally proud of.

"Well, I did need to ask your father's permission, didn't I?"