General Orion Hux knew little to nothing of pregnancy.
He knew Lucilla was prone to sickness in the early hours of the morning and ate more than she would have normally but his knowledge remained restricted. Little things like sore breasts, sore feet and a sore back (later in the pregnancy) would be easily solved with heat patches and bed rest. What he hadn't accounted for, however, were the regular bursts of stampeding hormones that drove his wife to absolute distraction.
It was a wonderful symptom of an already wonderful situation; for a while, at least. Unofficially, it appeared to be what was referred to as a "horny pregnancy" but when did the General deal in unofficial terms? That said, what else could it be called? When it was demanded routinely and often throughout the day?
At the beginning, when the swelling was barely nine weeks old, it came as a welcome surprise that Lucilla was not put off relations by her condition or potential damage to the baby. Their new medic, Dr Reena Covern, had assured her that such a thing was healthy and no harm would come as long as the proper care was exercised; that was all Lucilla needed. So, like every other way that he catered to her, Orion did so without question or hesitation.
He set aside a few extra minutes in the morning; only to find she was more than likely awake before him and waiting. It justified his rigorous shower while she dozed off the activity before they both dressed and she walked him to the bridge. Come lunchtime, Lucilla was hungry again for something her approved and improved catered meals would not satisfy so, once more, Orion made it his business to take his lunch hour in the apartment and eat around his wife's command.
His dinner hour was more of the same. At 18.00 sharp, he would arrive at the apartment to find her expectant in more ways than one. By 18.10, he was already exhausted and she was either resting or sitting up with the inside of her cheek pinched between her top and bottom molars; an indication of disappointment or impatience or both.
"Lucilla, I can't!" The strangled, exhausted protest was met with vexation and a huff of discontent; easily known she was no longer tied to his will or she would have been beaten for sure. Three, maybe four days, since it all began, this glutton, Orion could take no more. That morning, his lunch hour, his dinner hour and now, his off-duty hours, had all been spent the same way until that night when he buried his face in his pillow; weak with debility and almost overwrought. "I can't! I physically can't, little dove….! Please….!"
"What is it, Orion?!" High-pitched and almost hysterical, the interrogation grated him; not of annoyance but apparent failure. That seemed to be mutual; the concept of "failure", as if both had done something wrong to affect the other though it was only visible to themselves. Standing over the bed where her husband had discarded himself, an arm-crossed Lucilla looked as if she was on the verge of distressed tears while clad only in the most decadent lingerie. Naturally, Orion didn't question just how much was being spent on lingerie, despite her having a different set each time he saw her. "Am I not appealing anymore?! Is it the underwear?! Is it the baby?!" Cue the General's exasperated groan into the pillow until she could be ignored no more and the irrationality hit its peak. "Tell me!"
"Darling…." Slowly and wearily, Orion's flaming head lifted from the pillow. The bleariness in those icy eyes was far more extreme than it had been in quite a while. "You look exquisite. You always look exquisite, which is why it's killing me that I can't see to you the way you so obviously crave. But three and four times a day; Lucilla, I just can't keep up anymore…" That was not good enough for Lucilla. "Sweetheart!" In any other situation, his own pleading whine would probably have bothered him but the way she stuffed herself into her night robe in a huff put his priorities in check. "Where are you going?!"
"I'm going for a walk!" Visibly upset (for a reason that seemingly only made sense to her), Lucilla did just that and left her lamenting husband behind her.
Supremacy was different at night time.
It was quieter, far more peaceful; not bustling and busy like when she walked her husband to and from his command centre or when she took a rare amble by herself. The human presence was minimal; with something of a skeleton crew of humans, the bulk of the residency that evening was droids. They ignored her, despite the intrigued glances she swiped them as they passed; by that, she could assume none of them were protocol droids.
The corridors were far more bitter than the apartment; particularly when the biting durasteel happened to be under bare feet. Pulling her night robe closer around her frail form; Lucilla did so, not out of prudishness, but protectiveness for her baby and to preserve her body heat. Should she go back? Had she overreacted? Was Orion out looking for her? Or in his office, pouring over live security feed in a bid to find her more efficiently? Would a squadron of Stormtroopers from that sector come thundering down the hallway any second to hold her there until her husband arrived? Whatever the case, Lucilla would more than likely sleep in the spare room; out of sheer embarrassment, if nothing else.
With everything so quiet (bar the hum of an occasional mouse droid whizzing past that she might skirt to avoid), it was far easier for the lone female to pick up on sounds close to her. The bubbling of nearby pipes or a far-off announcement didn't concern Lucilla too much but when the durasteel underfoot started to echo with heavy (booted) footsteps, she closed her eyes and sighed. Caught.
Or was she? Before she could turn to address her captors and assure them she would be returning to the apartment of her own volition to avoid a scene, the footsteps started to slow; almost curious. They stopped completely, a few feet behind her, but before she could pivot and at least try to exert some confidence, a scarcely recognizable voice stopped her.
"It's been a long time." Chilled (and nothing to do with the frigid temperatures of Supremacy), Lucilla had to turn to be sure but soon wished she hadn't. Stood, staring and towering as always while clad in his signature black, Kylo Ren watched the little dove; inquisitive, but not threatening. Not that that made a difference to Lucilla; despite what Orion had told her. Movement escaped the dark haired darling, unlike Ren who resumed his (gentler) thunking towards her; head bowed and strangely placid.
"It has." She agreed, grudgingly and hesitant to engage him in conversation; lest he assume contact was wanted.
"I hear congratulations are in order." Finally drawing even with her, Lucilla found it within herself to form a stride; one Ren matched her in without difficulty, even regulating himself to even pace with hers.
"Of all people for Orion to confide in, I didn't think you'd be one of them." She growled, miffed at her husband's alleged lack of privacy; staring dead ahead as they walked together (albeit reluctantly on one side), Lucilla didn't quite pick up on the look of puzzlement among scarred features.
"What makes you think he told me?" He had the gall to sound surprised.
"Well, how else would you know?" Ren had to admire the (to him) newly formed fight in the form of her testy replies and disdained curling of her lip whenever he opened his mouth. She'd grown. Not physically; she was still utterly tiny at his side but even the way the Force pulsated around her was different to before (and nothing to do with the unborn baby she carried). Incidentally, that was her answer.
"The Force gathers itself around the unborn." He began, somewhat cryptically; enough for her head to turn and her eyes to flicker upwards probingly to find Ren already trained on her. He walked without looking, like he knew every inch of the ship. "It guards them; helps them grow and flourish. It's a different flow to everything else and so it was easily recognizable. I could have known before you did."
"Comforting." Lucilla chimed with an edge of savagery that impressed him further. "You might have known before I did; isn't that wonderful."
"Congratulations, nonetheless." Unfazed by the restrained animosity, Ren continued at Lucilla's side without a destination in mind while the "companionable" silence ebbed.
"This is the same Force…." It was the blue-eyed beauty who broke it and renewed Ren's inquisitive air. "That told you I was on Tatooine. That kept Orion there until he found me."
"The same." The Knight confirmed.
"And why did you feel the need to tell the General?" For the first time, the lumbering male slowed; whether it was in thought or emotion, Lucilla couldn't really tell but she watched for a clue.
"There is slavery in my family; going back two and three generations, possibly more." This seemed raw; particularly in the way Ren chose his words to avoid appearing weak and sentimental. "No one deserves that, least of all you. You, who had been through so much already." She ignored the tender remark and the lengthened side glance that accompanied it by fixating on the upcoming bend in the corridor. When he got no response, Ren decided on a different tactic.
"And what are you doing, wandering around at this time, in a night robe, as a simmering ball of frustration?"
Pure incensement lit under Lucilla like a freshly stoked flame, enough for her sweet face to contort in fury.
"Excuse me?!" The whip of loose curls should have been a hint, when her gaze fired up to focus on the otherwise calm demeanour; Ren either didn't see the line crossed or didn't care but the outrage didn't fret him. "Frustrated?! How dare you?!"
"Am I wrong?" He pressed, falling short on his when she stopped completely in indignance to face her; even retracing his stalk to bring them face to face for the first time since the chance encounter began. "Would you be so volatile if I was?"
Amused by the borderline temper tantrum that seethed, Ren chanced a lean forward; an action that clearly caught her off guard when she found him in her space. Spurred, he encroached further; closer and closer while she did nothing to stop him. Whether it was shock or temptation, Lucilla couldn't be sure but Ren kept closing in, sealing off the harsh, bleak florescent lighting to blocking darkness and still, she didn't move. Orion didn't care enough to satisfy her, let alone come looking for her; the very thought of it sending the bird in her rib cage battering against its bars; both the injustice of her husband and the fleeting desire of Ren's lips about to graze hers. Until a hoarse choke impeded the strange silence from somewhere behind her.
"Little dove?"