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But it was not your fault but mine

And it was your heart on the line

I really fucked it up this time

Didn't I, my dear?

General Hux didn't know how many times he ran his hand through his hair that night. He'd have to wash it; it had become greasier than it had in a long time from such constant contact. He paced like an irritated caged animal, complete with the occasional frustrated snorted exhale. He tried to settle, tried to have a glass of whiskey to calm his nerves, nothing worked. Not even the Whyren's.

The camera feed outside the room was open constantly and displayed on a portable monitor though he found it hard to look and listen to it. He'd hear snatches, mostly the Knight. He'd hear the odd little whimper but just barely. Even from those tiny sounds, there was no pleasure in them. Ren was hurting her.

And here he, the one responsible, sat out of harm's way. Seated fretfully on the sofa with his face in his hands, Hux rocked lightly back and forth while blame kicked him in the chest. It was his fault just as much as Ren's. This shouldn't have been allowed to happen.

Even if it had meant getting rid of her when he had the chance, she wouldn't have had to endure this. And the General wouldn't be tormented by foreign feelings of devotion and adoration that he'd only ever believed would be a distraction. He wasn't wrong but they were a glorious distraction. However, it seemed Snoke had always known about Lucilla; if he was distracted and his work was suffering, she would have been mentioned sooner.

And now she vexed Kylo Ren. Again, if Snoke was displeased by her presence, he would not have suggested she be used by the Knight. Hux didn't want to think about it but somehow he found himself in capable of doing anything else. My Lucilla…. My little dove, what's he doing to you? He deserved this. Every second of torture and helplessness.

He was awoken from his own self-persecution by the mechanical whirring of the door nearest to the camera and caught a quick glimpse of the dressed and masked male walking away from it. Hux buried his face again; he would give her a few minutes before he went to her but he dreaded the condition he'd find her in.

At first, he thought she was unconscious but relief (not much) poked him when he realized she was merely asleep; a Force sleep or not, it was impossible to tell. When he peeled back the sheet to dress her, the extent of the damage was revealed. Angry poppy marks that would sting and bruise were scattered on her thighs, her hips and at random intervals on her torso. That animal. No, animals didn't behave this way. An animal wouldn't hurt his mate for the sake of hurting her.

In a way, the General was pleased that Lucilla was a deep sleeper. Not only was it helpful when he tried to dress for the bridge without waking her but now when he covered her and carried her back to their quarters. Had she been awake, he had no doubt she would have struggled against him and refused his assistance; purely a punishment she felt he needed to have.

With his little dove safely back in her own bed, the General held her like the most precious thing in the world, any world, every world. Strong arms wrapped around her and his nose buried in her neck; it only intensified his woe to feel her tense even in her sleep.

Her sweet scent was not disrupted by her trauma. Especially her hair that reminded him of a grove where his favourite berries used to grow back on Arkanis, the grove where he used to go after being scolded….

Seized from his sad reminiscing by Lucilla shifting, the exchange didn't go as well as he hoped but it went more or less as he expected. The way she pulled her hand out of his and ignored his raw plea was more than he thought he could take. But the way she walked (or tried to) tore what resolve he had in half.

He beat down the temptation to follow her out into the living area; not for his sake but for hers. She needed space, she needed time. The General didn't have much of an impulsive spark but what he did have of it barked at him to get out of the bed and go to her. However; Hux's analytical side, the side he was more accustomed to, told him to wait.

The redhead didn't sleep. To toss and turn totally upheaved his carefully regimented sleeping system; a system that by having someone else (however small and fragile) beside him would confine him and settle him better. Now he didn't have that someone.

He got up earlier than usual, showered and dressed though he seemed to do those things on autopilot. He needed to see her, to check on her, to make sure she was alright. When he gently lowered himself into the armchair above her, guilt ebbed at him again,

He hadn't raised a hand to her this time but he was just as responsible for her pain, her degradation and her broken trust as much as (if not more than) Ren. Unable to face the scene of still and tranquil melancholy anymore, Hux left for the bridge.

Or at least that was the intention. Before he even reached the end of the corridor where their quarters were situated, Hux turned back. His darling Lucilla was swept up from the rug and replaced in their bed before he left again.

The little dove woke alone in the familiar comfort and scent of hers and the General's bed. With a light, defeated sigh and a pale hand tangled into her curls; Lucilla was quickly becoming defeated. Aching and weak, the meek little female pulled herself out from under the sheets.

The General found her in the bath at lunch time. It was a pitiful sight. If it was possible, she seemed paler and frailer than she ever did before, the bottoms of those usually vibrant curls just floated listlessly like they too had given up. Needless to say, Lucilla said nothing nor did she look up when the bathroom door opened.

"Mitaka tells me you didn't eat your breakfast." She had intended on letting him wait for an answer but thought better of it.

"I wasn't hungry."

"Your lunch is waiting."

"I'm still not hungry."

Hux sighed and stripped away one of his gloves then perched himself on the side of the bath, allowing his bare hand to stroke the surface of the water but withdrew it almost immediately.

"Lucilla, this water is cold."

"To numb the pain and ease the swelling." Well, that was a terrible answer. Hux tried to pretend he didn't hear it but it appeared to be lodged in his brain.

"Little dove, you're going to get sick."

"If I get sick, no one will want me."

"Luc-"

"Aren't you supposed to be on the bridge?" Caught off guard by the clear attempt to be left alone, Hux wasn't sure that he could. His concern was mounting; the events of last night were enough but now she was sitting in a cold bath without eating since the day before? How did she expect to get better? Or maybe she didn't want to.

"I'm worried about you, Lucilla." That confession was greeted by a brief, humourless laugh from the female in the bathtub and he stared at her, morosely confused. Why couldn't she see he was trying? That he was doing his best to reach out and help her, even if it was his fault?

"Worried about me." Lucilla repeated softly with a small shake of her head. "You handed me over like a cantina whore; you knew this would happen and you're worried about me." Without having a response or even an inkling of how to defend himself (there was none), Hux slid off the side of the bath, gave an overcome sort of nod and left her to her own devices.

"Did she eat anything? Lunch? Dinner? Anything?" Poor Lieutenant Mitaka found himself collared (not literally) later that evening on the way back from the General's quarters. The shorter of the two lifted the cover on the tray; not a single morsel of food had been touched. Not the bowl of stew, not the dinner roll or the wrapped square of chocolate (a rare and expensive luxury the General had gone to great pains to acquire; since the discovery of the diet mistake, her weight concerned him).

Even the napkin was still coiled around the knife, fork and spoon, it was clear she hadn't touched it. The General did all in his power not to close his eyes in dismay in front of his subordinate. What the hell was he going to do?

"Where was she when you collected the tray?"

"In front of the fire, sir."

"Does she speak to you, Lieutenant?" Mitaka looked somewhat nervous. He knew he wasn't supposed to speak to or even interact with Lucilla and he obeyed that to the best of his ability. It was difficult not to stare at her though. And she was so unbelievably beautiful when she was sad.

"No, General. Not a word." The officer responded, long having since replaced the cover on the tray where Lucilla's untouched meal sat. If he thought he'd get away with it, he would have kept the chocolate; kept half for himself and sent the other half home to his younger sister. Chocolate was a rarity following the Yuuzhan Vong War; the real thing was hard to come by if one could come by and afford it.

"Keep it that way but watch her, Lieutenant." Any avenue would do at this stage, even letting Mitaka keep a watchful eye over his beloved Lucilla. He would try everything and anything though he was aware it would be difficult to earn such forgiveness. "If there is anything out of the ordinary, anything strange or you feel she is wilting, inform me immediately. I also want the hallway and the door monitored for Kylo Ren still. Am I clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

"Good. As you were."

With Lucilla at odds with the General, she slept on the rug in front of the fire but always woke up on her side of the bed in the later hours of the morning, usually by Lieutenant Mitaka bringing her breakfast. The shy, dark haired officer had started to stay a while; he would usually make it look like he was doing something else. He glanced at her too often though. Mitaka found that she may benefit from stimulation. Books, a holopad; something to keep her occupied during the day. Every movement was reported back to the General.

Slowly but surely, Lucilla started to eat again but found the extra, random appearances of the Lieutenant somewhat unnerving. More often than not, she would have a bath or a nap; an excuse to go into the bathroom or bedroom and lock the door. Of course, Mitaka (silly, shy Mitaka) had no sinister motives; only orders. If he found himself with a spare few moments, he made them count by checking in on the General's companion.

The redhead knew by now to leave her alone, at least until he had something more of value from Mitaka to approach her with. For now, she ignored him. If he thought (for even the slightest second) that he had her attention or he was in her eye line, he would make an attempt; try for a reaction if nothing else. He didn't get one.

"Anything?" Hux pressed discreetly on the bridge and Mitaka flicked through his mental notes.

"She's eating more, sir." The Lieutenant answered, careful not to be heard and loyally pretending he didn't see the exceptionally swift look of relief cross the General's features. "Her appetite has returned but she's become alert to my presence. She usually retreats to the bathroom or the bedroom when I arrive and waits until I leave to emerge."

She was eating again. That was something at least. The recovery would be slower from the night on Starkiller (that had been an impulsive act based on ignorance but there was no excuse for that or this) but it seemed to be happening. Whether he would be part of that recovery or not, the General wasn't sure. What would he do if he wasn't?

"General, I also observed she sleeps a lot." Mitaka continued. The redhead wasn't sure if this was a surprise or not. He knew she was a deep sleeper but that didn't necessarily mean Lucilla slept excessively. "I feel it could be out of boredom. She has no stimulation as such. Maybe a holopad? Some books? A small animal for company?"

Mitaka got the impression his superior wasn't listening anymore. He stared intently ahead; nostrils flared and eyes narrowed in temper. Turning curiously, the Lieutenant found the point of the General's disgust striding towards them in the form of Kylo Ren.

"You're dismissed, Lieutenant." Hux ordered coldly so the shy male scarpered. The General had a target and he was going to meet it dead on.

"General." The Knight greeted him though it was marred with robotics until they met almost chest to chest on the bridge. Hux's facial expression had not changed and Ren, of course, was unreadable but he sounded pleased with himself. "Just the man I wanted to see. I require a second meeting."

"And you think you're going to get it?!" Hux seethed, outraged at the very idea. Fury poked at every nerve of the ginger male. The images of the marks, the way she walked and how she seemed to decrease in mass overnight flashed at him involuntarily. Hux's lip had lifted to bear a few pristinely white teeth; a display of agonizing hatred and indignation. "Have you any idea what you've done to her?! She won't speak to me!"

"Well then, you need to discipline your whore, General. Although if she usually just lies there like she did, maybe she's too well disciplined."

"You will not call her that! How dare you! You're not worthy to look upon her, let alone do anything else to her!"

"And yet, I did. That second meeting, General. I don't need to involve the Supreme Leader, do I?"

"How about this, Ren?" They were close now; two males locking horns. There was no hiding the dangerous passion in Hux while Ren appeared unmoved. "Meet me in training room B in the northern quadrant in an hour. Man to man. Unarmed combat; no blasters, no lightsabers, no Force. I win; you never lay eyes on Lucilla again. You win; she's yours to keep and to do with as you please. I'll see you in an hour."