"I must confess, I did have concerns about her feeding patterns." General Orion Hux prattled on to the never-ending patience of Captain Tritt Opan; he opted to say "feeding" as Lilia did not "eat" as such. Grim-faced and scarcely listening, Opan stared ahead while his superior went on and on about the child that (rumour had it) he had only really become involved with the night before. The bridge milled around them; unperturbed by their presence and would have continued the same without it.

"Though…. Upon reflection…." Soberly, the General slowed his seemingly endless spew then thoughtfully trailed off into nothing. "Lucilla does not eat much. She eats often but small; picks like a bird, my little dove. In that respect, Lilia is not-"

However, Opan got an unexpected reprieve from the General's enamoured ramblings; unexpected in timing and unexpected in fashion. Not only that, but it came in an instantaneous flurry of sources at once; a bombardment. Three instances occurred simultaneously; independent of each other but connected all the same.

A droid nearby stiffened; its sleek, polished body jolted as if receiving some sort of abrupt and demanding stimuli. Its photoreceptors flickered as an internal function re-routed itself to the fore and over-rode the droid's current task. Then…. It simply sped away.

An insistent buzzing erupted in their immediate vicinity; a drilling, frantic sound, designed to instil a similar reaction in anyone that heard it. It came, Opan realized, when his superior's face and eyes dropped, from the General's wrist.

Finally, and most chilling, was the sudden appearance of the white-faced but pink-cheeked Lieutenant. Sweat beading on his brow and carrying terror in his demeanour, Lieutenant Mitaka flashed a datapad to the General with trembling hands. He uttered three tremoring words that, separately, meant little. But together, they ironed horror into the General's features.

"Your wife, sir."

Lucilla was no longer subservient. She was no longer meek, weak or controllable; she had survived too much, and the General had nurtured that transformation.

Once upon a time, Ren had preyed on that vulnerability and used her as a means to an end. He had even scoffed and scorned at that cultivation of a broken woman into a functioning human being with her own mind, will and inclination for herself.

Now though…. He reaped the benefits of it. Or thought he did. After all, why wouldn't he want a mate (again, Ren grossly overestimated his position with this impressive creature) in the General's wife? The redhead certainly wasn't worthy of her; the way he simpered and fawned over her made Ren's stomach churn, as if he knew himself he didn't deserve her but tried to convince her otherwise. Yes, she deserved to be worshipped but not tripped over like a child.

Quick and all as the Knight's trained eyes may have been, he did not notice the ever-so-subtle cupping of her hand over the inside of her elbow. Rather, he was too enamoured with the indifferent averting of those distinctive eyes but still proud incline of her chin.

Lucilla knew it, and by now, a select few would know it: that they were about to be interrupted. Granted, the attending medical droid, medic, Lieutenant Mitaka and especially her husband would expect her to be in some sort of severe discomfort. Enough to summon them via the emergency function, at least.

Well, perhaps they would find her in discomfort alright, but not physical discomfort unless Ren got any closer. But all she needed was the disruption and, hopefully, Ren would scarper.

But alas, they remained undisturbed and Lucilla's insides squirmed; her external brazenness not quite matching her bubbling internal anxiety eating into its own wick.

Oblivious to the impending barrage, Ren's Force-tweaked senses piqued at the little grumble from behind; from the cradle that had replaced the wicker basket as a far more permanent fixture. He cast Lucilla one last bemused glance before bowing to curiosity.

The solid shadow encroached on the swinging cradle and bile rose in Lucilla's throat with every micromovement the Knight made in her daughter's vicinity.

"I have a holocube…." The drawl carried a different weight than it did before; it had lost its self-assured breeziness. Now, Ren's undivided attention centred on the cradle and the little one who occupied it, his tone having softened uncharacteristically; much to Lucilla's fluster.

"In my chambers. One of my few possessions from….. then." Lucilla did not pretend to understand the riddles; perhaps it even escaped the notice of the black-clad male who had become helplessly enraptured. Slowly, noiselessly, leather separated from skin without conscious thought and a white, calloused hand lowered into the nest of blankets that guarded Lilia against any chill.

The overwhelming gentility struck a chord with the child's mother. The novelty of the beast's tenderness did not go unnoticed or, indeed, unquestioned. So, she kept her distance and simply watched.

"An image of myself…. Where she is now…." Ren's cryptic mumblings continued as one dirty, cracked thumb stroked Lilia's pristine forehead, the palm of his hand cupping her entire inky crown. "And it is unmistakable where she came from."

Perhaps Lucilla felt the tiniest prickle of pity for the Knight, who was so utterly enchanted and ensnared by this little creature; enough to put a pause on his brutal nature and splay himself at her mercy, as every father should.

Maybe he misunderstood everything: that occurred to her as she observed the monumental turnaround in Ren's demeanour. Dare she think it, he could have passed for a normal human being, indulging in something pure and breath-taking, and reacting to it in a way that might be considered alien. Something that wasn't war, genocide, terrorism, or tyranny.

After all, she knew nothing about him. Where he had come from, what had happened to him or why he was there. Was that where his warped sense of "family" had come from? If he had been ripped from a family at a young age and manipulated and distorted (she knew that better than anyone), maybe she could forgive his sense of entitlement to her. With a firm and frank explanation, there might be hope for Ren; though not with Lucilla and Lilia.

"She's not yours." Lucilla opted for a similar gentility and patience, feeling sorry for him became tangible on her tongue. He didn't seem to react, not outwardly, at least and remained immersed in the contents of the cradle. "Like I said…. The tests results are on file. If you wish to view them, I will speak to Doctor Craven and have them released to you-"

That benign offer was swiftly cut off by a violent whirring of the door; that made Lucilla pivot on her heel and Ren to mantle over the cradle, his posture protective. His gloved hand flew to his belt as his eyes marked the door but did not unclasp his weapon. Naturally, having woken abruptly, Lilia voiced her displeasure as well, which only seemed to rile Ren's guarding mechanism as opposed to diminishing it.

The sliding durasteel panel pocketed itself at a previously unknown speed, dictated by an urgent override. And just like that, three became a whole lot more.

The Knight straightened, pallid features contorted with offence-bordering-rage. Not just for the unsolicited interruption, but when the General's arms opened and enveloped the dark-haired darling to his chest, weakly bleating his relief. The medic hovered on the sidelines to examine her and the baby; better safe than sorry where the General's family was concerned.

Captain Tritt Opan and Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka floated at the entrance. Mitaka purposely averted his eyes while Opan made no apology in staring down the intruder; his loyalty lay with one superior and one only.

"You're alright….?!" Orion choked, supporting her dainty chin in his palm to assess her for any trauma. Thankfully, he found none, and her wordless nod cemented it. Upon satisfaction, the redhead's demeanour took an immediate and drastic overhaul. His lip curled, his eyes narrowed, and a guttural snarl born of pure fury ripped from the General's throat.

"You!"

Kylo Ren had never been afraid of Hux; the reverse was probably a more likely reality (and an accurate one at times) when the Knight possessed powers that could not be explained with a logical mind. Even in the training room on that fateful night, he would not concede to fear, despite being beaten by Lucilla's (then) master. Now though, Ren had to convince himself not to buckle and Hux, too blinded by sheer rage, did not see it.

The darkly dressed male straightened and skirted the cradle, placing himself between it and the aggressively paced redhead. Kylo Ren was not afraid for himself, only his child.

"Out!" Came the dangerous hiss that offered no ultimatum or choice. Ren simply glowered back as the General imposed himself in his space, but his options were low and running lower by the second; hence his (so far) lack of action. Like a scolded child, he remained guiltily silent. Hostility bubbled; one male pickled with incensement, the other weariness and (for once), assessing the consequences of his potential actions.

"Are you deaf?!" Orion's threatening tone sounded once more and Ren shifted his stance, as if both restraining himself and hesitant to engage. Almost nose to nose now, with only the bottom of the cradle between them, the explosion was imminent. "I said: OUT!"

Somewhere in the midst of the testosterone-fuelled standoff, Lucilla managed to shimmy her way in between the two and scoop her child from the cradle. With Lilia secured tight to her chest (her head, of course, supported by her mother's hand), she retreated, and only then was the new mother satisfied that her daughter was safe from the simmering crossfire.

Any second now, it would come to a head and spark into something physical, or worse. What would it take? For one of them to lunge for the other? For a cutting remark or strategic insult? She watched for a sign and soon, without much waiting, Ren gave her one. Chapped lips separated to spit a jibe, eyes locked on Orion's, and stance ready for the scuffling aftermath. Until…..

"Ren."

The Knight looked past his opposition, who followed his curiosity, to the one who had spoken.

Orion need not have been there; not with the way one ebony head benignly marked the other. All it took was the slightest quirk of an inky eyebrow and Ren's air (albeit grudgingly) changed. He cast one last glance to the baby in Lucilla's arms, but he spared no time or effort for anyone else before he disappeared with a slide of the door.

"I want them both checked over!" Orion swiped demandingly at the medic, once he'd recovered from the stunned silence Ren had left in his wake; naturally, the medic dived to oblige, unheeding of Lucilla's drained and half-hearted declarations of being fine. The best way for him to recover fully was to take charge of the situation: and that meant firing orders.

"Mitaka!" The Lieutenant, too, scrambled for his task. "Replace my wife's meal! And dispatch a maintenance team to assess the door panel!"

"Yes, sir! Of course, sir!"

"Captain Opan." He rounded on the second-in-command who was already rigid to attention; he levelled himself for the Captain, unlike the bark he hurled at Mitaka and the medic. "Take over my command until the evening rotation. I am not leaving my family unattended, should that brute return."

"Very good, sir." Opan responded placidly with an obedient incline of his head. "Shall I instruct Captain Phasma to include your quarters as part of her patrol?"

"Yes, excellent." The initiative was appreciated, so Opan followed Kylo Ren's example, and left.

"Come, angel." He uttered, immeasurably softer when he addressed her, with his gloved hand warming her lower back as he guided her towards the bedroom. "You need to rest. I will not allow that beast to molest you again."

Orion opted to work in the living area via his datapad while Lucilla rested with Lilia. Unbeknownst to his wife, the General tried to plot a way to delay his father's visit.

Meanwhile, Lucilla picked at her food, less interested in it than the portion she had made for herself. It lacked the care, attention and personal touch of her own meal; an industrial spread, mass-produced for hundreds of Stormtroopers and officers.

Lilia drifted off on the warmth of her mother's chest; snuggled safe, secure and loved beyond the realms of belief. More so than most children, when two different men (both dangerous in their own ways) vied for her fatherhood. And just then, it kept Lucilla awake.

Ren was not Lilia's father, that much was concrete. Whether the Knight chose to believe it or not, she could not change but… If one thing had come from his visit, it was Lucilla's somewhat change of heart.

She felt sorry for him.

She pitied that mass-murdering, lightsaber-wielding monster. He had always been tender where Lily was concerned but it had made a new level that night; how he rambled without tearing his eyes from her. How he put himself between her and potential harm. How he took his cue from Lucilla to diffuse the situation. Yes, Orion doted on her, but that was recent. That had not always been the case.

Maybe Ren needed a gentle hand to help him understand, not to be mercilessly shunned and shoved away. Perhaps it wouldn't stop there.

Absentmindedly, Lilia's pitch-black crown was stroked by her life-giver's thumb, the possibilities turning over in her mind.

What if including him was the way to wrangle him? If he had a feast of them, as opposed to a famine, would that tame him?

And after all, why would she deny her daughter an extra protector?