When she was left alone, she just kind of stared at the sliding door as if the object itself had betrayed her. She had trouble grasping where she was and what had happened; whether she had just become too used to a certain treatment or the knock had been harder than she thought, the broken hearted female had no idea. He wasn't coming back. The light under the door shut off and she was left lying there she had on like her first night though insignificantly more pain.
It took a moment for her thought process to come back and her place was taken on the new rug. She could take comfort in one small thing though; she'd been successful in her endeavour. Her goal had been to get her master to bed, to help him to ease his exhaustion and it worked. Admittedly, it had been a sacrifice on her part but wasn't that what this was all about? Devotion? Yes, her face was sore, her lip was cut and she had wounded herself internally by disobeying an order. But he was more important.
Starkiller was colder than Finalizer. Curled up in the warmth of her master's bed, she didn't notice. But that large window had been both a blessing and a curse. For Lucilla that horrible night, it was a curse. The fire (or what was left of it) kept her back warm but the cold pinched at her front and when she turned over, the effect was reversed but there was no happy medium. For the first time in a long time, Lucilla was cold.
The light might have been off but the General sat up in bed, fuming. How dare she?! His exhaustion had been forgotten when she blatantly defied him and more than likely his voice had carried out into the corridor but he didn't care who heard it. He'd hurt her. He had actually physically harmed her. But he felt nothing for it. No guilt, no remorse; that righteousness had died down and the more he thought about it; he wasn't sure how to feel.
She had a place; whether she had forgotten it or just ignored it didn't matter. She had overstepped. Not only that but she had questioned him when he told her to return to bed, made him repeat himself. He shouldn't have had to do that. With that remembered, he was strong in his resolve. She deserved to be punished. Insolence and disobedience were not tolerated in the First Order and whether she knew it or not, by being his property, she was also the property of the First Order.
What the General did not see (or chose to disregard it when she said it) was her obvious concern for his wellbeing. It hurt her to watch him ambling around like a zombie, surviving on coffee and the brief snatches of rest he only caught when he passed out on the desk but being unable to do anything about it. Until she plucked up the courage to disobey him, at least. But it had been for a greater purpose.
The General surprised himself when he woke in the comfort of his own bed though it took him a moment to remember why the usual sweet smelling bundle of curls wasn't beside him. He might have only slept for three hours but he felt significantly better rested than he did previously. It didn't occur to him that that was what she had been trying to achieve. The empty space beside him bothered him. Insanely furious as he had been with her, his unconscious state had kept to his own side as if she had been there with him; like she had been every night since they got to Starkiller. His stomach ached, having forgotten what hunger felt like so he dressed briskly with the intention of being the first to eat though he would probably do so in his office.
Lucilla barely stirred when the sliding door was pulled back and for that, he was grateful. Curiosity got the better of him as he carefully approached the still sleeping female and looked her over. Underneath her eye was still a menacing dark pink, the area was swollen as was her lip with a decisive red slit etched into the soft flesh of her mouth. She slept with her arm under her face in case she moved a certain way that would disturb the healing process and cause her to bleed onto the rug. That wouldn't be received well. Her chest rose and fell steadily, unaware she was being watched but the chilled goosebumps on her arms didn't go unnoticed. Was that punishment enough? He'd decide during the day.
He decided that their routine was not his priority that night. He wasn't even sure he wanted to see her. He stayed late in his office though he was hesitant to let himself get into such a state again. Of course, Lucilla's sacrifice still wasn't recognized. As usual when he was back late, Lucilla was sitting on the windowsill looking out at the snow. She had become more accustomed to the sound of the door and so was on her feet when she heard it.
"Don't." She stopped mid-step at the harsh snarl and watched as he removed his own coat and stripped off his own gloves. He poured his own glass and observed her out of the corner of his eye as she slinked back to the rug, clearly unwanted.
She simply sat there with her knees drawn up to her chin and her arms wrapped around them, just staring into the flames disheartened. He'd often been cold and aloof but this was different. When he'd had a long or a hard day, to be looked after was always something he looked forward to but he'd never admit it or show it. He hadn't refused her like that….. Ever. He'd probably get rid of her. And why shouldn't he? She had endangered the sanctity of the bond a companion was supposed to have with her master that was based on unquestioning obedience. By voicing her concerns, she was putting her wants before his. Which was damn near unforgivable.
He stood at the cupboard where the bottles and glasses were kept and drank there, drained the glass then put it back where he'd taken it from. She'd know better than to leave it unwashed. He cast one last careless glance at Lucilla then headed towards the sliding door with the full intention of leaving her outside again. When he heard it though, it took him a moment to realize she'd spoken to him. That she'd initiated communication.
"Did you eat today?" The quiet, dejected question left him stunned. His hand seemingly just lodged in the groove for pulling back the door while he tried to work out if he'd actually heard it. He had. Slowly, his head turned down to stare down the female, dumbstruck, to find she too had half turned her head though resisted eye contact. What did she have to lose? The damage was already done. If he was getting rid of her, he was going to do it; she wouldn't be able to stop him. She expected him to hurt her again, to remind her of her place again.
To her surprised relief, he didn't. He decided to ignore the question and continue into the room. With the door shut, he just stood there while confusion crippled his mind. Had she learned nothing?! It seemed not. He sat on the bed to ponder it further, she really wasn't afraid of the consequences anymore. Had he spoiled her? Let her think she was special? Maybe letting her share his bed was a mistake after all, despite what his father said.
His boots were removed but not as carefully placed as they would have normally been; this was an exercise of frustration. His usual method of blowing off steam was sitting out on the rug with a split lip and swollen eye but he had no doubt that if he called her, she would still come. With only half his attention, Hux removed his uniform and folded it though he missed the usual lines and creases that he followed to ensure that it was pristine for the next day; his mind was occupied.
Sitting on the edge of the bed in his lounge pants (he used them as bed clothes); he tried to piece it all together. He hadn't noticed Lucilla's pained glances and worried sighs the first few nights, it was only the night previous that her anxiety came to his attention. The redhead got to his feet and started to pace. There was nothing more irritating than being frustrated without really knowing why. Why though? It made no sense. She was a bed-warmer to him, she knew that. There was no love, no affection as such (maybe the odd touch or a kiss on the forehead but that was rare and spur of the moment); his treatment of her wasn't really what one could call kind.
He used her as she was supposed to be used, that was the extent of the relationship. He already knew the answer but until now, it made no sense to him. When it hit him finally, it hit him like a ton of permacrete. She was worried about him. His wellbeing concerned her. What happened to him mattered to her. It shouldn't have but it did. She had connected with him in a way she wasn't really supposed to. She was trying to go above her duty to help him even if it meant getting herself hurt in the process.
Lucilla's slip dress wouldn't keep her all that warm again tonight. The black silk he preferred (which she'd worn despite what happened the night before) came to just above her knee with the thin straps holding it up would not keep the cold the window attracted out. She was still awake but lying down when the door was thrown open. Immediately, panic seized her but his pace was so quick, she didn't have a chance to go anywhere. Not that she would have; if she was to be punished she'd have to take it.
He was standing over her and the injuries just seemed so much more prominent and painful when she was awake. The cut in her lip seemed to have been irritated during the day, probably by something she ate while the swelling under her eye was starting to become more colourful. Half sitting up, the dark haired female had no idea what to expect but she looked up trembling regardless. Her chest heaved rapidly at the shallow breaths of fear she tried to gulp in like a cornered rabbit. When his hands moved towards her, she automatically cowered away with a tiny but audible whimper of terror but nothing came.
"No, I'm not…." He tried to explain helplessly but abandoned it halfway through, letting his hands drop back to his sides. The reaction had stirred something; a different kind of pity from before, a regretful kind. He couldn't blame her for being petrified. Looking at her now; shrinking away from him, desperate and upset, he decided he'd been too hard on her.
There was no other way to do this. Rather than approaching her carefully where she might try to resist him again; he grabbed her instead. Not by the hair or by the arm or any other singular body part. He had stooped suddenly, slipped his arms under her legs and her neck then swept her up. A very brief scream of daunted surprise made him flinch but he adjusted her nonetheless and carried her towards the sliding door, if she was any bigger he probably wouldn't have been able to carry her.
Involuntarily, she clung to him which he had expected, how was she to know he wouldn't drop her out of vindictiveness? Lucilla's apprehension didn't diminish even when she was brought into the familiar surroundings of the bedroom and placed down in her usual spot with (startling) gentility. The sheets had already been pulled back; she was placed down and covered over. As if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened (and this was exceptionally out of the ordinary), her General walked around to his own side of the bed and laid himself down before covering himself as he had covered her.
Things were about to get a whole lot stranger. Lucilla lay stiffly on her side of the bed (and it was generally accepted that it was her side), fearful that this was some kind of cruel trick or punishment. Nothing could have prepared her when Hux rolled on his side, shifted himself right over beside her, gathered her up into his arms and laid his forehead against hers.
He was completely relaxed, the awkward feeling of waking up alone that had followed him throughout the day was extinguished but it seemed Lucilla was not as comfortable as he was. He felt it too. She was still frozen with absolute dread. He wanted to sleep but he couldn't do so while she was so tense. With a small sigh, the male pulled himself back ever so slightly to take in her face. Of course, his gaze was drawn to the ominous darkening patch under her right eye. She said nothing, just watched him nervously with that ever present apprehension.
"I did eat today." He answered the question she had voiced (out of concern) earlier, an offering of inclusive conversation.
"I had almost forgotten what Traladon tastes like." It was a comfort to have the space beside him filled but she was still reluctant. The emotionless nod at his response brought it home to him. He freed one of his hands and went to touch the sensitive skin he had damaged the night before but she instinctively flinched away from him. It seemed the damage was more than physical. He didn't know how to apologize. He had never been taught how to do so. He literally could not draw the words from his brain and drag them to his mouth. His father had always told him that to be sorry to be weak and to be weak was unacceptable. But he had been weak and she had put herself at risk to prevent it from going any further. He had to try something else.
"I don't think you realize…." Hux began hesitantly; expressing himself verbally (or at all) wasn't his forte either. "Just how important you are. I doubt I would have coped thus far alone without your company. Not well, at least. Last night I said and did things I shouldn't have. I didn't mean to hurt you or to give you an unfair representation of what you are to me and I regret it deeply. Sometimes I do forget how delicate you are, how fragile you are but that doesn't excuse it." He struggled still, unsure of where to look; he kept getting drawn to where the bruise was going to settle for a week or so.
"I'm not accustomed to having someone concerned for me or my wellbeing. I don't always recognize when I'm exerting myself so I just work through it until I cannot do so anymore and I'm not always in the best condition when I do." He could appreciate that was what she had been trying to prevent and for the purest reason possible. Again, it occurred to him how she was wasted here with him. Hux was convinced there wasn't another being (human or otherwise) like her anywhere in the galaxy and he was probably right. His free hand had taken to rubbing tenderly along her bare forearm and he was pleased when she relaxed slightly though there was still something of nervous doubt in her sweet face.
"Lucilla…" The sigh was light but he'd forced out most of what he'd needed to say. "If you wish to return to Finalizer for some time alone, I understand. I'll organize a transport for you in the morning." She hadn't expected that sort of consideration. Lucilla did feel more at ease now and while he hadn't said it as such, she could read between the lines for the roundabout apology.
"No, General. I'd rather stay." Her ability to forgive would continue to astound him.