Fear.

It is personal to each and every one of us. One person's fear might be another's greatest exhilaration or aspiration. For General Orion Hux that night, fear dragged him through a worried path in the Wrodian carpet of his office; back and forth, back and forth, like a caged beast in the Coruscant Zoo. However, unlike most people, Orion's fear was embodied by his greatest joy: Lucilla.

What do I do?! He frenzied, riling himself in sheer panic. She is going to go absolutely berserk and I can hardly blame her!

Orion had quietly excused himself from the apartment without interrupting his wife's bathing time; after all, there had been enough disturbances that night. Only when Mitaka arrived for impromptu babysitting service (with the promise of the morning after off in exchange) did the General slip away for that dreaded com call.

Time (despite Orion fervently willing it to slow) only seemed to tick faster towards his doom at either his father's or his beloved's hands. All the way back to his quarters, the horrible occurrence dogged the redhead; treading on his heels and snapping at his ankles.

"Little dove!" He yelped, falling over the threshold of the apartment before the door had even pocketed itself properly, his urgency dictating a drop in his professional decorum. Thankfully (and it seemed it was all he had to be thankful for), Mitaka had been dismissed by his wife when she reclaimed her child.

"Orion?"

"Darling!" Only when he practically collapsed against the arm of the sofa did the General force a breath into his stress-shrivelled lungs. Lucilla, torn between the cradle and the arm of the sofa, tried to divide herself but, upon a closer look at her husband, decided him to be more important. Lilia, comfortable, full and settled, was not the one in need of consolation.

"Darling, what's the matter?! You're in an absolute state!"

"My father!" Came the helpless splutter without much context; with his brain in such a fizz, the crux of his fret went unrevealed. For now.

"Unless he's dead, Orion, I'm not interested." Significantly calmer with her initial fright evaporated, Lucilla brought herself to the level her husband had collapsed to. Ivory hands cupped under his chin and her nose bare millimetres from his, it was meant to be an act of affectionate support but, for a reason that only Orion was privy to, his wife's soothing demeanour only exacerbated his plight. "Tell me, love."

Orion's com did the answering for him, despite doing nothing than buzz on his wrist. The bridge, no doubt informing him of the impending arrival. The arrival of a very important Admiral.

"He's coming, angel." Orion croaked, helpless and distraught as his wife's hands slipped from his face in her bewilderment; perhaps she hadn't been prepared for that. "Now. That's the bridge…"

"But…"

"He's coming to see you. And Lilia." Slowly, automatically, Lucilla straightened; the implications pulling her back to her full and unextraordinary height but never took her uncomprehending gaze from her husband. For a moment, there was nothing; so much so, Orion put his own trepidation in the back seat.

Blink. He begged internally, watching those magnificent features melt into devastation. Hit me. Scream. Please. Do something. Say something. Anything, little dove. Please.

"Well then…" That soft Coruscant husk fell into something unreadable while her hands dropped, limp, to her sides. "I suppose… I should get dressed, shouldn't I?"

With that, Lucilla retreated to the bedroom, to do as she said: get dressed. But not before placing a communication first.

Yes, he was exactly as he remembered from their last, draining encounter.

Was it too much for the General to ask for his father to be gaunt with illness or frail with age, with death looming over his shoulder? Rather than the picture of indulgent health striding towards him now? His jowls bouncing jubilantly, his cheeks rosy with a build-up of avarice over the years, his frame swollen from gluttony with his swagger built around it.

Orion had seen his father smug before. He had seen him sickeningly triumphant on more than one occasion. But this was a whole new level of disgustingly victorious. It may have been Orion's territory; his flight deck, his Stormtroopers, his officers and pilots assembled in an intimidating show of First Order strength, and yet, he still felt like the little boy who trailed in his father's wake.

"Admiral." The staunch diplomacy was enough to choke him, but Orion forced it as he met the source of his ire off the boarding ramp. "Welcome to Supremacy."

"Thank you, General." The greying Admiral strutted the walkway as if he had just assumed command of the galaxy's most feared warship; the vessel of Supreme Leader Snoke himself. "I'm delighted to be aboard, she's most impressive."

"Commanded and run to the highest of First Order standards," Orion commented his grudging concurrence as he stalked his father's side; footstep for regimented footstep. "Not so much as a mouse droid out of place, I'm sure you will find."

"As it should be, General. A touch patronizing to commend something for being as it should. Wouldn't you agree?"

It begins. Orion thought sourly as their trek to the apartment began. And it's only going to get worse.

Orion almost didn't believe the overhaul, once he'd escorted his father to the apartment, the family home. Instead of the shaken, petrified creature he had left to fetch the visitor, he returned to someone very different.

Lucilla had always had a certain pride about her, a regality befitting the wife of the military head of the First Order; but this was something else. She dressed for it and embodied it, a shining example of perfection internally and externally; right down to the way she moved, spoke and conducted herself. However, she had struck a very fine balance in this perfection, without being submissive, meek or controllable. Not anymore. Quite the opposite, in fact, when Lucilla did the controlling.

It was one of the first things her father in law noticed about her. How pride had hardened into sheer brazenness; arrogance, almost. But with exceptionally good reason.

"Admiral." The tactful purr dripped poison; snide, honeyed poison. Her skin crawled when he took her hand, it practically writhed on her bones when he kissed it like a gentleman would; if anyone knew the Admiral's lack of gentlemanly qualities, it was Lucilla.

Discomfort? What discomfort? Lucilla had full gracious command of the situation. Instead of fearful mumbling, prompted by the man who had degraded, brutalized and raped her, the blue-eyed beauty faced her terrorist with a bold incline of her chin and a smirk that oozed defiance.

Her hate, her abundant loathing, of overflowing proportions had been carefully channelled into calm indifference. You haven't broken me. She broadcast it loud and clear without saying a word; and somehow, she felt the Admiral heard her. You have only made me stronger, sharper and more resourceful. You're going to wish you hadn't.

"Darling, get the Admiral a drink." The lazy drawl of a spoiled, indolent brat had the desired effect. It wasn't a trick of the light or a figment of her imagination to see a fleeting, furious dent in her father in law's conceit at the mere idea of his son being ordered about. Even worse was said son rising to obey without question or protest while his wife remained sitting idle; like a lady of leisure should.

"I think I will pass on the drink for now." Admiral Hux coyly waved away the offer, as if among friends, not people who longed for his death on a daily basis. Without invitation, the inflated form of the Admiral found the sofa; far from his daughter in law, who had chosen her seat carefully on a single armchair. "It would not do to have a heavy head or a clouded mind tomorrow with so much at stake."

Ageing eyes flitted around the apartment, no doubt taking in the décor and assessing the cost in furnishing and decorating it; credits wasted in his opinion. And his son stood for this?! This frivolity?! Not to mention paying for it and actively encouraging it?! Truly, if Brendol Hux wanted to find further fault in his son's lifestyle and a perceived waste of credits, he needn't look any further than Lucilla herself. The dress, the jewellery, the shine to her hair and scent to her skin that only lavish products would leave behind. Birthday presents, Empire Day presents and Thank You for Not Leaving Me presents.

"Where is my granddaughter?" The visit was not expected to be a long one; not when the Admiral made a point of being well rested and clear-minded before a mission. Or allowing those around him to believe so, anyway. The mission was an excuse, the "danger" of it amplified to justify the imposition on his son's family, and to remind his daughter in law of what she was; not what she thought, believed or behaved like she was. "She is, after all, why I'm here." Before adding, with revolting charm to Lucilla. "And you, of course, my dear." The smile in reply was just as false as the declaration.

Orion's eyes flickered worryingly to his wife, only to find hers already boring into him; to a dissecting extent. The communication was plain: Do it.

Once again, Orion rose to obey, but he was not circumvented this time.

In the moment that it took Orion to retrieve Lilia from the bedroom, a hissed conversation with a new level of vehemence took place.

"You destroyed him!"

For a few rigid seconds, it appeared the female opposite hadn't heard him. Partially engrossed in the wall by the door, Lucilla had heard him just fine; but the Admiral waited for no one and nothing. And Lucilla was going to change that to suit herself.

"Did I?" She asked, faux naivety masking her contempt. "It's strange that you should make such an observation, Admiral… I was going to say the same thing to you."

"How dare -!"

"Well, let's see…" Naivety abandoned in favour of striking conviction, that head of exquisite ebony locks turned to square up the reddening face of her father in law; as insolent and blatant as she could possibly make herself. "His involvement with Starkiller increased ten-fold under my influence." True, if the language was a little flowery. "He unveiled a fleet of new, technologically-radical Dreadnoughts; vast improvements on any you had under your command." Also true, and Hux Senior accidentally acknowledged it with no argument and a flare of his nostrils.

"Not to mention the various victories he's had in the battlefield over the Resistance and the Republic that have left you and your fleets in the dust. He is in regular, direct contact with the Supreme Leader himself which, to the best of my knowledge, Admiral, you are not." Even Lucilla had more privilege where the Supreme Leader was concerned, but that jibe was best saved for later.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance!" Came the blustering retort, at a loss for any sort of constructive argument; enough for her conquering smirk to pull at her lips once more. "I should have-!"

"You should have, Admiral." Lucilla agreed coolly, quirking a taunting Stygian eyebrow to infuriate him even more. Maybe if he dropped dead of a heart attack, it would save a lot of trouble. And explanation. "But hindsight is a wonderful thing. It gives us the opportunity to reflect when our hours are numbered." With a casual shimmy of the sleeve of her dress, Lucilla made a point of checking the time on her wrist chronometer. "Or in your case, dearest father in law… Minutes."

"Listen here, you little bitch!"Disregarding the cryptic warning as little more than a threatening show, Hux ranted on. Lucilla, unruffled by the aggression, donated her full, nonchalant attention; anything to make him feel better. "You forget your place! I thought I reminded you of it once before?! Do you recall?! After Starkiller?!"

"Funny thing about my "place", as you call it." Bored? Perhaps, when the tirade became as predictable as it was pointless. But she straightened regardless, putting steel in her spine and her tone to quell any doubts he might have. "You gave me to your son to do with what he pleased. You told him to kill me if he wished. Yet, he gave me this place. Equally, at his side, to cater to my every whim. But, most importantly, Admiral; before he gave me that place, you gave it to me. Never forget that."

Cue the flummoxed blink that flared sweet vanquishment within Lucilla's breast. She spoke the truth, and recalling what she had said about hindsight, it made perfect sense. If the Admiral had selected someone else, Lucilla's life would have been very different. Would it have lasted much longer after her sale? There was no way of knowing. All she knew was what had transpired; the insane series of events that lead to the there and then. And all because of her father in law. Should she thank him?

….

Nah.

Amazingly, Orion did not emerge to carnage. He did emerge to a biting silence but both parties remained unharmed, and in one piece. Physically, at least.

As he passed his wife, child in his arms, he caught her eye once more and was given the same signal as before: Do it.

"Ah." His father's horrible joviality appeared to have melted in the time it took for him to retrieve Lilia, but Orion knew better than to question it; he assumed it was to do with the noticeable temperature drop in the room. "Yes." Accepting the infant into his arms (apparently without the appropriate understanding of how to hold a new-born, which Lilia made plain with her uncharacteristic little whinge), Hux Senior appeared unmoved; despite his insistence of meeting his granddaughter in the first place. "She's… warm."

"It's almost like she's living..."Came the cuttingly dream-like aside from the armchair that, other than a snarling pull of his lip, the Admiral did not react to.

"What I mean is-"

It was gradual, the realization. Or rather, the noise level from outside the apartment. Raised voices, the crackling of command radios, the clatter of Stormtrooper armour… In short? Sheer panic.

Both redheads, one greying, the other at its peak of fire, turned in astonishment to the protective seal of the door while Lucilla looked on with expectant bemusement. In less than a minute, the muffled pandemonium died, settling an ominous hush on the General and his family. Until a horrifyingly familiar sound started to eat at the durasteel of the door. Well… the fresh control panel beside it.

The sound of the door being ripped back into its pocket was lost in the rumbling growl of fury that accompanied fighting through electronics and soldiers alike. Kylo Ren.

"Ren!" Orion barked, on his feet immediately to do what Ren had done before: place himself between the opposing male and his daughter. Lucilla, on the other hand, used the distraction to rise and rescue her child from the suffocating clutches of her grandfather. Said grandfather being perturbed and confused by the sudden hostile intrusion of someone that was (supposedly) on "their" side. As the Admiral was about to discover, there were more to sides than just the First Order and the Resistance.

"Lord Ren…!" He stuttered, stumbling to his feet in a bid to urgently convey excessive reverence; despite the disorientation Kylo Ren's abrupt appearance caused. The drop in the Admiral's (portly) stomach came as a direct result of the flurry of black rounding on him in vengeance.

One glance to his left, that was all it took for Ren to pause, evaluate and decide. He was not prompted by the tilt of a (different) dark head or the arch of a luxurious brow; not in any obvious extent, at least. But maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with him calling down the humming blade of the lightsaber; the same one that had just reduced the door panel to molten glop. Again.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" The General's wheeze of pure, unadulterated rage was just about heard and, for once, it seemed his father had nothing to say to bellow over him; a testament to his utter petrification. "You have been warned about terrorizing my family, Ren!"

"I'm not the one terrorizing your family." Ren's dangerously silky reply may have been for General Hux, but it was delivered without taking that intense, unwavering gaze from the horror-struck Admiral. Then, he turned his cynical, borderline amused, address to Lucilla.

"Him? Really?"

"You swore to protect us, did you not?" She replied, unimpressed by the line of questioning as she placed Lilia safely in the living room cradle. "Your Hold-Daughter, especially?"

"Hold-Daughter?!"Orion spat, incredulous as he pivoted militarily on his heel to turn on his wife. "Lucilla, have you lost your mind?! Giving this BEAST any sort of jurisdiction over our child?!"

"I am and was very much in my right mind when I made that decision, Orion, yes." With Lilia secured, only then did Lucilla part with her; taking a handful of assertive steps forward, until there was little more than a few feet between her and her husband. "And if you turn around, darling, you'll see why I did it."

The heavy, cumbersome thump had been lost in the midst of the one-sided domestic. Orion, blind to it with his focus on his wife, had berated on, none the wiser while Lucilla only half listened; the bulk of her attention centring on a much more satisfying sight.

The crease of confusion in Orion's features was swift, but that incredible mind took no time at all to calculate what was actually happening; why his father was on the floor. In the minute blip of the General's processing, he scarcely felt his wife brush past him to callously approach the rasping, writhing form of her father in law.

"Calm yourself, Admiral." She had no qualms in crouching down, a hair's width from where the Admiral's chest heaved, and his eyes bulged with her tone placid but ruthlessly conversational. "The more you fight, the worse it is going to be." The glossed pull of a half-smirk etched into Lucilla's cheek, savouring every spasm. "Isn't that what you said to me?"

Blood-shot, the Admiral's eyes lifted to their sapphire counterparts before another convulsion knocked them off course. Then, Lucilla redirected hers to the male standing on the other side of the soon-to-be corpse. Ren's black-bound fist flexed, the leather creaking as his hand tightened, driven by vengeance, justice and righteousness.

"Lucilla." Orion cautiously said from behind; attentive to his father's final floundering gasps, but also his wife's stony disposition, fuelled by revenge. "Darling, are you sure this is what you want?"

There was no verbal response, a simple, testy, half-turn of her attention gave him all the answer he needed. Of course, she was sure. And truth be told? So was Orion. If not retribution for his wife, for everything she'd been subjected to at his father's hand (before and after she came to him), retribution for himself, for his entire lifetime. Perhaps, even, to guard Lilia against interference from her grandfather; whatever form that might take as she got older.

"What I mean, angel, is… Like this?"

"Yes, Orion. Like this." Voice hollowed in morbid awe; Lucilla's fixation solidified on the Admiral's struggle against Ren's crushing of his windpipe. "What else does he deserve?" And that galvanized it; if it was what little dove wanted, little dove would have it. His father's life? As far as Orion was concerned, it was hers. To that end, he caught Ren's eye, and for the first time, there was respect and camaraderie in the nod that followed. Over the white noise of choking, hacking and whistling wheezes, Ren's fist snapped to a new extreme; the final extinguishing blow.

One last violent explosion of twitching, gurgling and senseless noises that (she assumed) were supposed to resemble words; pleas, protests, prayers, all lost and in as vain as they could be.

Who was more motionless, Lucilla or the Admiral, was yet to be seen. Until, after a moment or so, Lucilla rose with her usual grace and approached her husband with a gentle tread; her features mirroring it too. Two pampered hands, much smaller than his own, found the General's chest, her eyes seeking his.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Darling."