The planning that went into Lucilla's dispatch to Coruscant was meticulous; even for the First Order's most brilliant minds, her husband included.
In the end, it was decided (with her own approval) that she would arrive in the same manner that she always had. Be it Ryloth, Tatooine, or any other mercy missions she felt prudent to win the galaxy; plain clothes, civilian shuttle and an absolute minimum of the trademark ostentatious flare of the First Order. The biggest indication of Lucilla's involvement in the Order (besides her own declaration) was the proud stride of the Captain Dopheld Mitaka (who had refused an extension in his marriage leave for the honour) helping her descend the shuttle with Lilia's hoverpram in tow.
The instant the ramp dropped; the reception was deafening. Individual greetings and overjoyed calls of thousands upon thousands of beaming citizens of varying species jumbled together to form one tidal wave of sound; so much so that Lucilla, for the briefest moment, second-guessed bringing her infant daughter. But when she looked around and saw all the other young mothers (like herself) with their children, welcoming her, her concern dissipated immediately. After all, these were the people she was there to help. So, what did she do? She waved.
The rebuilt Processional Way, lined with ecstatic faces and jostling bodies (to get a better view), led her to her new home. What had happened here, good and bad, would always be remembered and honoured accordingly with a new Empress at the helm; an Empress whose past had driven her future, and not just for her.
I'm here now, she stated without opening her mouth; merely stretching it into the maternal smile that the galaxy had come to know and love via the holonet broadcasts. I'm going to help you. I'm going to do what you brought me here to do. Because I have already proven that I can.
Of course, the proceedings were watched with great care and attention from all across the universe, every holonet channel raced to have a representative chattering at the scene of Lucilla Hux's arrival at the Imperial Palace of Coruscant. But none watched it more closely than the two who had the most to lose; the two who, incidentally, stood side by side, watching a feed that no one else had access to.
"I knew it would be intense…" The Grand Marshal uttered, awed by the sheer scale of his wife's welcome; the flock that had materialized to usher her to the palace. "But I had no idea it would be like this."
"What did you expect?" The Supreme Leader weighed in, just as transfixed; both voices low to preserve the atmosphere of veneration in Hux's office. "She made herself even what we didn't know we needed. Look at them…" How one individual expected to be seen and acknowledged out of the vast crowd was anyone's guess, but they tried anyway; each one vying for the remarkable sapphire gaze of the prospective Empress. And, to her credit, she did try (though it was futile) to greet everyone in return. "Not Palpatine or anyone before him had a response like that. That's not tyranny, that's love. Respect."
"And that's better for the First Order than just a pretty face and a sweet voice."
"It is and it isn't." Kylo Ren countered, still completely entranced by the holo, streaming directly from one of the access tubes in Mitaka's uniform and illuminating the Knight's deathly pale face; the hue making him seem more corpse-like. "We have to be careful. If we make one move she doesn't like, she'll throw us to the wolves. Look what she did to the Resistance just for leaving her out in the cold."
"But we helped her do it."
"She went through hell ever before she landed in your lap." Cue the suspicious tweak of the former Generals flaming head; what did Ren know of it? "She survived it time and time again, brutalities you could only imagine. Don't think she won't undercut you too if you gave her cause." A fair warning. "She holds the cards now. We're at her mercy."
"She's here!" A journalist nearby their source chirped with plucky enthusiasm, giving Ren and Hux an insight into the devotion their soon-to-be Empress already had. "She has arrived, as humble and modest as ever; despite the mammoth crowd who have come out today-"
"Some commentators are commending the First Order representative already-" Another was saying, as Mitaka moved in his one-man escort. "Not only did she arrive with an absolutely minimal security detail, not a Stormtrooper to be seen, but she has in her company her baby daughter. If that isn't a gesture of trust to the people of Coruscant, I don't know what is-"
"There are always going to be questions-" A more cynical correspondent chipped in. "Where the First Order, and indeed, Lucilla Hux herself, stands on the resonating destruction of Hosnian Prime. Some would say they are well on their way to making amends, others remain dubious-"
"We should go." The flow of the holo shut off at the declaration, automatic and obedient to the Supreme Leader; Hux did not protest, simply nodded and readied to depart. "It wouldn't do to keep the Empress waiting."
The Grand Marshal could not recall the last time he had been a passenger aboard Kylo Ren's own shuttle; a beautifully sleek Upsilon-class command craft. It made sense to the diabolical pair to rouse no such malice in the crowd by bringing a Star Destroyer into the atmosphere just yet, so the smaller and more subtle ship would allow them a less dramatic entrance. Until Lucilla was better established, of course.
Side by side (anyone would think the terrible twosome liked each other by their convincing solidarity), booted footsteps matched one for the other; the challenge constantly being met and issued all over again without them even realizing.
This was the Jedi Temple… Ren found himself thinking, chocolate eyes roving the stone walls and ancient tiles as they walked. It had been left to the dust since Palpatine's death some thirty-odd years previous, but the Supreme Leader had no doubt Lucilla would go about turning it into something beautiful. My grandfather trained here. Served here. Was stationed here. He walked these hallowed halls as I do now. What would he say if he could see me? I'm not an Emperor but that is a grounded title; Supreme Leader far surpasses it.
"We're nearly there."He informed his military counterpart (who was just as fascinated with their surroundings) on the final leg, without deviating his focus; how he knew, he could only attribute to the Force. "When we arrive, drop to one knee. Your right knee."
"One knee?!" Hux protested, the hiss scandalized and utterly taken aback but his stride never faltered; instead, he focused on the Knight. "That is my wife, Ren! The mother of my child!"
"Your wife is an Empress, there is protocol. I would suggest adhering to it until we are instructed otherwise. Eyes on the ground-"
"And what do you know of protocol?!" Vehement, Hux found the instruction and the piety of expectation galling. "Since we first met, Ren, you have been incapable of following any sort of protocol!" Perhaps not the falsest thing the Grand Marshal ever stated but unappreciated all the same.
"Refer to her as Your Imperial Highness-"
"This is absurd!"
"Or, easily enough for you to follow: Your Grace."
"I refuse!" The redhead blustered, incensed at the very idea. "I outright refuse!"
"Fine. Be executed."
"What?!"
"Dead ahead. Right knee. Eyes down."
Everything remained covered in dustproof sheets, but the absolute size of the room was enough to wind the little dove. Small as a general rule, Lucilla was positively dwarfed and intimidated by the place (she was told) she would be spending quite a lot of time in. You will get used to it, Your Grace, her guide (a child servant of the previous Emperor and curator of sorts of the palace) had soothed kindly; already having a favourite of the two monarchs.
Lucilla (still visibly very much out of her depth) had only just arrived in the throne room moments before her husband and her Supreme Leader but had yet to relinquish her comforting hold on the hoverpram; her head swivelling this way and that. The footsteps jolted relief like she had never felt before; rounding on them with such fervour, her hair and dress flared into separate fans.
"Oh, thank goodness you two- What the hell are you doing?"
An understandable question for one to ask when they find two of the most powerful men in the galaxy, cloaked in darkness with the blood of billions on their hands, on bended knee and refusing her the eye contact she was accustomed to.
"Your Grace…"
"Your Imperial Majesty…"
Oh stardust… Is this going to be the way of things? Bended knees and utterances of veneration? This stops now.
"Up. Both of you. Now. Orion…" Finally releasing the pram with a purpose, Lucilla closed the distance on her cohorts with a stride that would have made any ruler proud; descending the four dividing steps that separated the throne from the rest of the room. Orion was easier to pry from the ground; all it took was Lucilla's shadow and a light pat to his chest from her open palm. Ren…? Not so much.
"Ren…" How was a dainty being like Lucilla Hux supposed to lift a permacrete powerhouse like Kylo Ren? Despite trying, with both arms scarcely meeting behind his solid torso and struggling accordingly. "Come on now, don't be silly… Upsy daisy, let's go…!" Eventually, he relieved her; rising to a height that nearly doubled hers.
"Right!" She huffed, mildly harassed from the effort and blowing a loose ebony curl from her face; (almost) unique eyes swiping between the two most imposing individuals she knew. Mass murderers. Sith (of his own design, at least). War criminals. Among other things that she had to scold like children. "No more of this! We are in this together! The three of us! No more arsing around!"
"Forgive me, little dove, Ren got the better of me." Orion opted to throw his colleague under the hoverbus, lest her famous tirade start, and he the one wrongly in the firing line. "He said you would execute me if I did not observe the correct etiquette for addressing an Empress." Naturally, distressed incredulity followed.
"And you believed him?! Orion, the only thing I'm going to execute you for is leaving the seat up in my new chambers! Do you hear me?!"
"Yes, darling." The disgusted sideways glance almost dared the Knight to laugh or mock but more sombre than that in this revered place, he did neither of those things. "I hear you."
"I don't even know where to start..." Whether that overwhelmed sigh was meant for them or not was anyone's guess but by the way Lucilla surveyed her new domain with clear unease, it may not have mattered. "I want it to be brighter… how would we even go about that…? Unless we put some glass into the ceiling? But I don't want to change the place too much… Not when there is so much history here…"
True, the décor of the throne room was somewhat reminiscent of a Star Destroyer; after all, it had been designed and decorated to the taste of a Sith. And that would not do for the little dove. Not she, who was the most un-Sith-like creature to exist without the brand of Jedi. That said, mindful of history (some of it Ren's), Lucilla would only change what she felt unbearable: the light, for starters.
"And I think… I would prefer a different seat…" To call it a throne would, to Lucilla, compromise the humility she assumed this title with, but once she had time to adjust, that might round window of a gargantuan size at the furthest throw of the room, was divided strangely but still managed to cast an eerie luminosity on the still-covered throne; something the Empress observed with deepening anxiety.
So much evil… So much destruction… I can't sit on that, I won't… And it will be a clear message to everyone when they see that I refuse.
"Ren?" The summoned one, the Supreme Leader but loyal servant to someone more than just an Empress, pried his heed from the throne. Despite the dustcover; the pulse only he could feel, the serenade only he could hear, the tang of blood only he could taste ensnared him. Until that sweet call and features just as bewitching swept it all away and landed him firmly back in reality. "Accept it? As a gift? From Empress to Supreme Leader?"
"Yes…" Throat and mouth dry, the muscles in Ren's neck worked to bow that Umbaran head to borderline servility; the gift and its implication almost enough to render him mute. Palpatine's throne, within a grasp of power to rival Palpatine himself and gifted by a force of purity and justice reminiscent of Padmé Amidala. "Yes, Your Grace."
"We've been through this. Enough of the Your Grace nonsense." Still, Lucilla personified it thoroughly; the utmost embodiment of grace and elegance as she descended the steps (pushing Lilia's hoverpram as an extension of her very being), removing herself from the throne's vicinity and leaving its new owner in its closest range. Handing the throne to the Supreme Leader was one thing, but the Grand Marshal, her other hand, was another.
"You don't need a gift, Orion." The fresh Empress purred, placing herself back where she belonged, where she was determined none of these new circumstances would change: in her husband's arms. And Orion, compliant and relieved, enveloped her within the appropriate insignias that would flank her from then on. The tender kiss to her forehead sealed the mutual feelings that this would change nothing.
"You have me."