I have been wrong before… But never like this.
She was incredibly placid, he noted that endearing trait serenely. Sweetly trusting as she dozed against her father's shoulder, as if she'd known him all along, he was conscious of every micromovement. Orion ceased the rubbing against her back; whether or not she was awake, he could not tell.
His head tilted, blocked from going further by her dark crown cushioning his cheek but he was perfectly content with that; as was she. Newly honed senses told him so. Closeness, as it turned out, was the key to placate her; a cuddle was all she craved, and it seemed Orion was (unwittingly) rather good at it.
The General stared at nothing. His primary sense of sight became secondary to listening to the shallow breaths in not-quite-developed lungs. To the little groans when she'd stretch occasionally. Feeling the little puffs as she exhaled against the side of his neck.
I think I may have jumped the blaster on this particular occasion. The thought was the first one he could remember having in a while. Maybe it carried more weight because of the realization of its truth, Orion suspected so. He would be sure not to listen to others so intently the next time; especially when their "experiences" were somewhat exaggerated. Then another thought followed swiftly upon it; an inquiry, the reason he had come here in the first place. No sooner did he think it, give it the same heed as the first, was it answered for him.
"Put her down…." From behind, the petrified squeak reminiscent of years previous, when she'd been purchased initially, straightened him; ripped him back to reality.Dejected, Orion realized there was plea in those three words that edged into begging upon the forth. "Please."
Perhaps it was because she was wet and bundled into a warm robe that Lucilla seemed smaller than before but it was the obvious panic that struck Orion most when he turned around. Stopped short at the refresher door with the robe clasped tightly closed between ivory fingers at the neck, Lucilla was positively terrified. Her sapphire gaze was not on him, but the child he held with great care against his shoulder. Vulnerability, distress and regret resonated in the dark-haired darling's prepossessing features as she remained frozen; as if fearful that for her to take a step would spell serious consequences for her daughter.
What did she think? That he would harm her? Either of them? That he had taken despicable advantage of the infant being left unprotected for a few moments while her mother took a much-needed shower?
Upon bitter reflection and given his behaviour so far, perhaps it wasn't such a stretch for her to think the worst. After all, he had not been present to represent his own feelings to her and that, he understood now, was his own doing. He had given Keir the unfiltered version and how could he not expect his father in law to pass that on in his anger and his upset? More to the point, how could he expect Lucilla to believe anything else? It came back to him not being there, whatever way he tried to justify it.
Disheartened, the redhead hesitated. Then, resigned, he complied.
With a gentility that Orion had no idea he possessed, and under Lucilla's anxious, watchful eye, he adjusted his daughter (his daughter) and placed her back down in the basket. He even took the care to re-cover her with one of the blankets he'd taken her from.
However, no sooner had he taken his first, instinctive step back, did Lucilla set upon the child's safe haven and swoop her back into her arms; ever fearful of what else might happen if she was left unguarded. It seemed Orion's compliance had gone unnoticed or unappreciated or both.
Dolefully, the General watched as his wife (and how much longer could he expect to use that word for?) reassured the youngster, cradling her in the same way he had: against her shoulder with her arm supporting her underneath, coiled upwards to support the baby's back and head. Orion hadn't expected that to sting: being shied away from as if he were a perpetrator, something to be protected from. She hadn't done that in quite some time; perhaps the incident on Starkiller where he had decorated her with a black eye and a torn lip was the last example.
Lucilla murmured to her daughter (their daughter), soft whispers of easement that Orion could not decipher, punctuated with light kisses that, he assumed, were supposed to convey comfort but urgency swirled beneath the surface. Surprisingly, while he tried to gather words (any words), Lucilla was the one to break the stalemate.
"We'll be leaving soon…" Unfortunately, it appeared Lucilla's trepidation had not worn off since she first spoke from the refresher door and, like then, it seemed she could not bring herself to look at him then either.
"Little dove…."
"We won't embarrass you anymore…." She cut off the rattling whimper as if she hadn't heard him, as if it were easier to keep talking than to listen. Just as it was easier to look at anywhere and anything than the usual stony face that housed such heartbreak now. "I just needed a shower… I don't want anything from you and we won't impose on you-"
It was not any collection of pleading words that ripped Lucilla from her bleating sentiment but one swift action that stopped her in her tracks. One of her hands being seized, loosened from her and lowered in a cold grasp as Orion sank to his knees. While Lucilla could not bring herself to look at her husband, Orion could look nowhere else but his wife.
Frantic and at a loss for words, the redhead fought through the frustratingly alien concept of being powerless. And she was the only one capable of making him so, she always had been. Well, perhaps not anymore. The little one she held was now a close second. Lucilla felt the press of shaking lips to her knuckle; he felt it was easier to delay speaking until he could do so without cracking.
Orion, still splayed on his knees, curled himself towards his wife's legs in some anguished and overcome display of desperation. Only then, did Lucilla chance a glance downwards to notice her husband's back heaving subtly. Luckily, the General was not in Imperial company and no one, only the one it was intended for, witnessed this very un-Imperial exhibit of weakness and devastation.
He forced himself to breathe. One breath at a time, inhale and exhale, in that order and repeat. Dipping his neck, Orion's forehead met his wife's thighs and immersed himself in her scent, the soothing fragrance that had led him from a dire situation on more than one occasion. Did it help him now? When things were so bleak? Being close to her was certainly a consolation but…. It was, shall we say, a short-term and isolated alleviation of intensifying moroseness. When she left, and he was left without a solid reminder of her to hold, then would he truly crumble. Now, he took advantage to delay that process for as long as possible.
Lucilla, however, found herself stunned. She scarcely moved as Orion's grip tightened, his other arm winding around her calves. In a seemingly cold and distancing move, Lucilla ever so slowly pried her hand from her husband's grasp; gently sliding it from his in a way that she hoped was unnoticeable. Instead, and she could not really justify her reasoning for it, Lucilla took that hand and placed it benignly at the back of the General's flaming head, settled it there for a moment then began the tender strokes; an act of confused compassion.
"Please…. Don't leave me…." Lucilla swallowed when the rawness, the legitimacy, registered. Before she could address it or question it, Orion continued in an agonized rasp but had yet to surface from the sanctuary of his wife's robe. "I am begging you, little dove…. Don't leave me. I couldn't… I couldn't cope. I know that now." Lucilla's thought process began to resume.
"Let go of my legs, Orion."
"No…."
"I need to put her back in the basket. Let go of my legs."
Was that a reprieve? It certainly sounded like one. Reluctant out of dread, it took some logical corner of Orion's mind to convince his arms to loosen their coil and lumberingly sit back on the balls of his feet. In her micro-glance before she turned to the basket, the bloodshot eyes and sagging in his usually proud form stirred a sympathy that she didn't think she'd feel again; not for Orion, at least.
He watched her, like a lost dog, place the baby down, cover her once more and soothe her with a watery smile.
Then it was his turn, but the smile had disappeared.
One arm crossed her torso, the hand of the other clinched her elbow in a half embrace; a self-assuring one. Where to start? What to say?
"You need…. to understand something."
"Little dove-"
Orion had managed to regulate his breathing, but he still presented a pitiful condition; complete with one un-gelled strand falling out of place when his head whipped back to plead his case. He opened his mouth to counteract her, to try and talk across her, but Lucilla, on this particular occasion, was the stronger and more authoritative of the two. In that resolve, she fixed him with her most resilient air and powered on over his rambling prattles.
"You didn't want a daughter. I accept that. I don't understand it and I certainly don't agree with it but whether or not you want her, Orion, she's here." Again, Orion's attempted explanation was cut short by growing vexation. "I have longed for far too long to be put out by gender and, quite frankly, I'm surprised you don't feel the same way!" Was she though? Given what she had disclosed to her father in the diner?
"Darling, if you would just let me-"
"No!" The snap stopped him short. Yes. This was bad.
Lucilla's back straightened, her chin lifted, her eyes narrowed, and her nostrils flared. Orion braced himself.
"You weren't there when she was born." Lucilla bristled and, somehow, the lowered snarl of her Coruscanti husk was worse than the bark; it plunged into the General's gut. "You wouldn't give her the dignity of sitting with her when I couldn't. You left us there for nearly a week without so much as a visit! And you had the nerve to send flowers via Mitaka! How dare you?!"
There was no excuse. He had nothing. He had, as she correctly pointed out, left them in the med bay, like a dirty little secret; not to be seen or heard by anyone respectable. One could understand, maybe even justify, treating a hidden mistress and a bastard spawn like that, but not his wife and his legitimate but sick child. Much less a wife he loved and a child that (he now realized) he loved just as much.
"I might have been lonely, Orion, but I wasn't completely cut off." Tears threatened those magnificent sapphire orbs and the redhead felt the guilty dagger slice further into his stomach. "Do you think Doctor Craven didn't tell me about the absolute disdain you looked on her with in the incubator?! Or what my father told me about your reactions down in the detention block?! And don't even get me STARTED on arresting my father for trying to get me here safely!"
"That wasn't me, my angel, that was-"
"And for what?!" She spat, letting the venom and the furious tears flow as freely as each other as her husband squirmed under the glower. "For the sake of what those Imperial dickheads think?! Those assholes who are only interested in advancing themselves?! Over your own. fucking. WIFE?!" Orion didn't dissect the expanded vocabulary but took the points and, taking them in their context, subjected himself to the ever-nearing inevitability that she was leaving, and she would hate him when she did.
Out of steam (for now), Lucilla's arms flopped helplessly in despair, throwing themselves from her body in frustrated resignation. Orion saw his opening but, even if only out of pure spite, the (teary) blue-eyed beauty would not allow him to take it.
"We…." She gestured loosely back at the basket, just so he was clear that she didn't mean she and him anymore. "Might be in separate bodies now. But…. We're still as connected as we were when we weren't. Physically, we are two entities, but she still depends on me as much as when we were one." Melancholic, with her frenzy seemingly dissipated, it pained Lucilla to recognize that she shouldn't need to say this. "My daughter is part of me and I of her. We will not be pried apart for the sake of someone else's ego, or what their peers deem appropriate. It's both, or neither. And you have made yourself very clear that she is unwelcome here."
That wasn't true. It may have been before and even then, he had relinquished himself to the reality that Lucilla would not be without her child and he would not be without Lucilla. It would have meant he would have had to tolerate the child but that would have been the extent of his generosity. That said, Orion must have been enormously naive to think that Lucilla would be happy with that arrangement.
Now….. Having been granted the chance to fall in love by simply holding, Orion wasn't willing to part with either of them.
"Are you going to listen to me at all?" Clambering from his knees in a bid to claw back some bit of dignity, the General brought himself to face his wife; she had retreated to the basket and did not grant him an answer or a look. He took it upon himself to advance but kept enough distance to prevent her feeling threatened and lashing out. And Maker, could she lash out.
"I do not want you to leave." In all the things he wanted to say buzzing in his skull, that was the first sentiment to win out; much to the clamouring protest of every other thought. It was his turn to take the upper hand and just as she clicked her offended gaze to his to object, he interrupted.
"I do not want either of you to leave." Lucilla's objection died in her throat and blossomed into astonished bewilderment. Steadily, she allowed herself the support of the sofa; perching herself at the edge, directly in front of the cherished basket. It seemed she was ready to listen.
"My behaviour has been appalling, I recognize that. You were absolutely correct in everything you said and you are, of course, entitled to be angry. On behalf of you and her." Lucilla's dark, curly head inclined at the inclusivity; more so when he nodded to the woven wood bed. "I listened to people who, upon reflection, I had no business listening to. Those same people, it seems, have not had the same wonderful experience I have only had tonight." Orion chanced a step forward and Lucilla let him. "It is, with unshakeable guilt, that I confess leaving it this long before I had it. It should have been the moment she was born, not nearly a full week into her life without so much as a sight of her father."
Lucilla allowed him to near. Fixated on his face and no doubt scrutinizing for any trace of a lie, it wasn't long before the redhead was in her immediate vicinity once more. Again, on bended knee and one ivory hand enveloped in his, it became clear that he was not trying to simply placate her into staying.
"I held her." He began, lowering his voice so as not to disturb the baby; a consideration Lucilla did notice. Peeking from behind those usually staunch features, Lucilla spied what she could only describe as bubbling excitement and joy; a rare, almost unheard-of phenomenon in the mass murderer. "I comforted her. Instincts I did not know I had came from nowhere and told me what to do…. She responded to me and we…. we understood each other. I missed a week of that, little dove, a week I will never recover, but I wish to start making amends for my own, foolish pride. Not just to her, but to you too. You, even more so, my darling. Please. I know I have been granted more chances than I deserve but one more. This one more. And I swear to you, you will not regret it."
Lips pursed in apprehension, as though torn, the new mother saw the legitimacy but past experiences shadowed in her mind. Suppose she was to accept, how was she guaranteed that this enchantment would last? Crying and feeds at all hours of the night, dirty nappies, snail trails of snowy puke after a winding session…. Where would that fit in in the ordered, regimented life of General Hux? The fussiest and most pristine man she knew? But, if he was to be believed, he had wanted this as much as she did.
"Before I say yes…." Lucilla started evenly, countering Orion's shining hopefulness with a blank canvas; just in case. "There is something you need to know."
"Tell me, little dove. It will have no bearing, I promise." We'll see about that.
How did she even phrase it without feeling filthy? Probably best to just come out and say it; the arrangement of words would not make it better. Lucilla gave her husband's hand a genial squeeze, as if to soften the blow but the blow would come regardless.
"Ren thinks she's his." Flabbergasted silence. As expected. Had he even heard her? Or was the revelation so grotesque that he had trouble processing it? Either way, she jumped in to soothe the sting and clarify it.
"She's not." She assured quickly, as Orion's Adam's apple bounced. "I had a paternity test done after he made the claim. The results are on file, she's yours and I never had any doubt in my mind that she wasn't."
"But why…" Orion's reactions were delayed; most likely out of shock or trying to piece things together. Possibly both. "Why would he believe so?" She knew what that meant.
"Listen to me." Removing her hand from his once more, Lucilla carefully sandwiched her husband's cheeks between her palms and guided him to link their eyes. "I had one night with Kylo Ren. All those years ago. The one you sanctioned." Orion felt his intestines writhe at the memory. "There has been nothing since and that is the truth, he said it himself." It was true, he had. Not disbelieving but forlornly confused, it made no sense.
"The corridor…."
"No. I had encountered him only a moment or so before you found me, you saw that on the security holos." More truth that did not add up and, if she was honest, it still made no sense to her. Admittedly, though, her grasp of the Force was minimal. "I gathered that he had attempted some sort of…. Force insemination…. He knew I was pregnant when he found me in the corridor, he thought the baby was his and he was going to tell me then and there but…. You found us." Lucilla replayed Ren's chilling words in her head, recalled the feeling of paralysing powerlessness while in her medbay bed with that towering shadow over her.
Numbly, Orion nodded. It wasn't an ideal disclosure but, and this would dawn on the redhead almost immediately, it meant he had not one, but two up on Kylo Ren. Lucilla and the baby.
"Well….?" Lucilla pressed gently, releasing his face and folding her hands in her lap; ever so ladylike. "Does that change anything?"
"No." Resolute and galvanized and even more infatuated with her now, Orion ripped himself from his stupor and readopted his purposeful demeanour. "Unreservedly not. You were and are blameless for Ren's advances and having seen the security holos, I have no reason to believe that there was anything untoward."
"The test results-"
"Are immaterial, little dove." Orion's harsh, icy eyes found the basket and the contents that made him weak at the knees. She was awake, otherwise he would not have sat forward and scooped her into his arms for fear of disturbing her. The relief was instantaneous, just having her back in his arms and her mother back at his side.
"I have just realized…." He mused, rare amusement spreading with the pull of his lips, up into his cheeks. "I don't even know her name."
"It's funny you should say that, Orion." Lucilla chimed with the lightest touch of impishness in her voice, leaning across and witnessing the connection he'd told her about. "You actually had a hand in naming her." Cue the puzzled swipe from daughter to mother, waiting for enlightenment.
"I'm afraid you've lost me, little dove."
Bafflement deepening when Lucilla took her time to answer, too taken up with fondly adjusting the blankets around her daughter's face, Orion had no choice but to wait. Until….
"Her name is Lily."