"Heartbeat slow but strong, Your Grace."

Impossibility, glorious impossibility, but a joyously dazed Lucilla grabbed it with both hands, and it was not the only thing she latched onto.

"Orion?" That sweet disbelief came with tear-stained cheeks and an air of absolute delirium; restrained, perhaps, to avoid crippling disappointment and more heartache. "Sweetheart, can you hear me?" The answer was not verbal but just as concrete as the hand that Lucilla clutched coiled and returned the squeeze – a definite response, however faint, or a well-timed twitch.

The appointed chambers of the Royal Consort (dating back to Palpatine's reign when those chambers would have been occupied by a woman, a favourite concubine as opposed to a consort or spouse) remained warm and dim for her husband's delicate comfort. Anything to help him.

"He is weak, Your Grace." The commandeered MD 1316 had come straight from Ren's quarters to that of the Grand Marshal (Ren was only too happy to see the back of the droid) to attend the medical miracle who had been killed and preserved some twenty-four hours previous. "He requires rest and constant monitoring. Treatment will become apparent as he progresses or deteriorates; if he requires any at all."

"Any at all? Surely-?"

"The Grand Marshal died in perfect health, Your Highness; aside from the obvious asphyxiation that is typical of spatial exposure. He was preserved in the temperature of the vacuum and so, there is nothing, as such, to treat. His body appears to be re-adapting of its own accord; starting small with processing oxygen, for instance, and re-acclimatizing to the average human body temperature. It may be some time before he is fully conscious and functioning."

"What about permanent damage?" Dividing her attention in equal measure, with the same due respect as if she addressed a living, breathing being, Lucilla did it automatically without conscious thought or deliberation; not that the droid expected anything else. After all, is it not the measure of one's character by how they treat a droid? Poe seemed to think so. And her father… well… she had not given him any great thought lately. Only hateful bile for almost taking her husband.

"As of yet, it is impossible to determine until his condition progresses. The fact that he is alive defies all medical logic, therefore we have no template against which we can plot his recovery. For the brain to be deprived of oxygen for any significant length of time results in cognitive disturbances, and decreased motor control. However, he has already proven to defy death; there is no reason for him not to defy those standard side effects also."

Satisfied, if still in ecstatic disbelief, the Little Empress found her feet with the appropriate (if simmeringly elated) dignity of her position and made ready to depart, though her absence would not be a long one. If this horrendous experience had taught her anything, it was that her soulmate was to be cherished at every opportunity, given the second chance. A second chance that, unfortunately, was exclusive to Lucilla and Orion when most of the crew of ill-fated Quietus perished. Poe and Evelyn had been correct: Lucilla already had the outlines of a military family fund in her mind and was kicking herself for not thinking of it sooner.

"Would you give him a sedative, please? If he is semi-conscious, I do not want him stressing to even the slightest degree; lest it slow down his recovery. As you rightly say, MD, rest is paramount."

"Of course, Your Grace."

"In the meantime, I am going to fetch my daughter and gather some things to spend the night here. Or what's left of it."

Rest might have been the most sensible endeavour at that moment but since when was Kylo Ren known to be sensible? Or obedient, even if it was for the benefit of no one but himself? The orders of the mechanical physician (the irony of a droid specializing in human anatomy was not lost) were not placed as any great priority; not when something else of far more importance began to prickle him, something distressing.

"I'm coming."The beast snarled through gritted teeth; the simple act of sitting up agony inducing and tearing where bandages and stitches hindered his movement and snarling again for his carelessness. But it mattered not. "It's okay, I'm coming."

The stumble from the bed ripped another rumbling growl from the scarred, heaving chest and every step thereafter; putting immense pressure and strain on a body that had no business doing anything but resting. But Ren persisted. Panting in both near-panic and physical torment, the Supreme Leader staggered (and tumbled more than once) to the dressing table, a feature of the room he scarcely used, save for one item; a little carved box of Japor ivory wood. The item that he guarded from prying, curious eyes was seized and clutched by blood-caked nails and swallowed into his palm should anyone try and take it from him, this very special thing.

With that, he lumbered from his chambers on legs of jelly to heed the weak, helpless call that summoned him from his recuperation.

For a moment, Lucilla noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Then again, the Little Empress was in such a state of relieved bliss that all of her bedroom furniture could have been missing and it would still not register.

None of Lucilla's bedroom furniture was missing. Everything remained where she had left it, save for Lilia, who had been brought back to her mother's chambers upon request by Advisor Dameron when she was summoned to handle Ren. Now, however, the child's mother did not quite get as far as discovering (to her horror) that the cot (which doubled as a small playpen) was empty. Not when an overly noticeable addition had been made in her absence.

"What the hell are you doing in here?!" Recovering quickly from the fright, Lucilla's raptured reverie shattered and left a scowling glower in its place; an understandable reaction when one finds their counterpart lurking in their bedroom and not in bed, healing, as instructed.

Despite being battered, bruised and beaten, Kylo Ren stood tall with a very familiar form gathered to his shoulder and supported by a torn hand, concealing hand. Mutually immersed and both basking in the soothing contact, the smell of his Hold-Daughter's hair, inhaling it and breathing it, did more to remedy him than any medication. He paid Lucilla the minimum heed while he monitored the princess in his own, unique way. Well… almost unique.

"She needed me." That reverent murmur was not unusual when Ren had Lilia in his guarding embrace, or even if he happened to be in the room while she slept; it had always been that way, right back to Lilia's first night of life. Whatever the case, the Little Empress went about gathering the appropriate things for a night away from her royal residence; complete with a roll of sapphire eyes. A doleful gaze followed the un-requiting and oblivious object of his affections as she prepared to be reunited with her husband.

Poe's accusation in the throne room had only been partially misplaced: Ren had no involvement in Hux's death. But that didn't mean he hadn't felt a jolt of hope when he learned the news. Of course, he would not have imposed himself immediately, he would have given her time to grieve and heal on her own (unlike some, power thick in their nostrils like sharks to blood); all the while hovering in the background and being vigilant for Lilia, enough for her mother to notice. When she was ready, he would be waiting; to treat her as she always should have been treated, to protectively shadow every step she took, to hold her hand in labour and refuse to leave her side whether it went wrong or right.

Now, wounded emotionally and mentally as well as physically, Ren kept his only definite close.

"I heard you got him back."

Lucilla, laying the basics of personal items into an exquisite beaded overnight bag (a birthday gift from "Lilia"), slowed the flow of her purposeful movements to a speed that mirrored thoughtfulness.

"We did…" She answered softly, packing her toothbrush and the cleaning gel to compliment it. "I'm still not entirely sure how, but we did. Even the medical droid is stumped…" Ren knew, and while he debated it, Lucilla kept talking. "He was confirmed dead when he was pulled from Quietus… and again when he was brought here… There was no sign of life for almost a full day cycle until tonight and for the life of me, I still cannot-"

"Lily."

The dark-haired darling could be forgiven for thinking that Ren had lost interest (despite him posing the question) and reverted back to his constant fascination in Lily. But when Lucilla glanced with mild endearment to the pair, until she found herself as Ren's sole, unwavering, intense focus; clutching the near-year old like a child with a precious toy.

"What about h-?"

"I told you. When she was born. I told you she was strong."

"Yes, she fought, she's alive, but-"

"No. It's bigger than that."

Lucilla's ivory forehead creased very slightly, her eyes narrowing just as much with uncertainty as she marked the brute ever so gently place the child back in the cot he had taken her from. Were that not perplexing enough, when Ren straightened, the little dove (she could officially reclaim that nickname) spied him reclaim something small and clear from Lilia and palm it obscuringly; removing a choking hazard. Before she could question it, he was upon her; forlorn, but no less imposing.

"She's strong with the Force. I knew it before but… I didn't know just how strong until today."He thought he might stumble on the words, but their flow was pulled by Ren's urgent passion; much to Lucilla's growing incredulity. "Her power is… it's rare, almost unheard of. Even in the strongest of Force wielders. But it was her. He owes his life to her."

Lucilla stared, taken aback by the blatant absurdity. Had she really heard those words come out of his mouth just then? Was that it? Did that qualify as the most farcical thing ever to enter the Little Empress' ears? Ren's lips folded into a thin, anxious line as he waited for something, anything. He became lofty and awkward and aware of his proximity to the pyjamaed queen, but he did not move back and matched her scandalized glare with hopeful apprehension. Perhaps the reaction did not meet his expectation.

"That is ridiculous!" Came the hissed response that cruelly dashed the butterflies in his stomach, but he held firm and the barrage continued. "How in the galaxy could she be Force-sensitive?! There is no one in my family or Orion's that is…!" There it is… Ren thought as she stopped short and those magnificent features melted into winded realization without tearing her eyes from his. Here it comes…

"You…" Hushed as bowled-over understanding crash-landed, Lucilla's horrified gaze refused to budge from the apprehensive chocolate that had captured it. Even as she lowered herself numbly into the chair behind her (Ren nudged forward a few inches to concernedly help guide her if needed), that connection never wavered. "You weren't lying, were you?"

"I told you. When she was born." Ren repeated quietly, the context shifting as he docilely took a knee before the Little Empress; not servile, but in soft plea in a bid to make her see. "You bore my child. My daughter. Our daughter." While the colour continued to drain from the little dove's face and the depth of the predicament began to set in, Kylo Ren (to his credit) did all that occurred to him to be reassuring. With a significantly larger hand enveloping her daintier, shaking one, the elder of the two swallowed and waited.

"It's… It's not possible. The tests-"

"What d'you think they'd have done to you if those tests showed any other name?" He pressed reasonably, his thumb carefully caressing her knuckle in sympathetic support while she struggled. "The Admiral would've used it to tear you apart, you know it."

"You tampered them…?"

"I had to. For you. And her."

Perhaps Ren should have expected backlash, and it came a few seconds later when his hand was practically launched back at him. That black bundle of curls moved so fast to put as much distance between them before adopting that bombarding prowl; the one he had seen many times before drastic action was taken.

"And if he did use it against me, whose fault would it have been?" She spat challengingly, automatically gravitating to the cot without taking her eyes off the risen Kylo Ren. "I would have lost Orion because of YOU! You and your… I don't even know what to call it!"

"I would've protected you. You and Lily would've had everything and more with me." As if that would ease her. As if she hadn't heard it before but was abandoned to a hospital room alone with a sick child anyway. And it was that instance, as her hackles sprang and she got more and more irate, that Ren did something he never thought he'd do: Feel sorry for Poe Dameron. "It wasn't meant to be like this."

"What does that even mean?!"

Ren chose his words exceptionally carefully; mulling them like something physical on his tongue as he padded, barefoot, to join Lucilla on the other side of the cot. Lilia, the unwitting and innocent bone of contention, sat up with that luxuriously dark head swivelling between her two simmering parents; ironically clutching a stuffed toy that Orion had given her. The healing crystal, paired with the close contact of a similarly powerful being, appeared to have served its purpose. For now.

"I wasn't supposed to get attached in the way that I did. In a way Snoke didn't understand. In a way that's only… natural." Ren, despite addressing a frustrated mother, had besotted eyes only for the (early) toddler in the cot; something that did not escape Lucilla's notice. "I wanted an apprentice. And what better breed of student than one forged from my own blood? My own power, my own strength? Who has a traceability of in-depth Force connection going back generations?" When he finally lifted his gaze, he found the tiny ruler trained on him with disturbed curiosity. He returned it unflinchingly. "To have it born of someone with unrivalled spiritual might and endurance; who would pass it on, nourish it and help it bloom to be cultivated in service to the Dark side."

"So, what changed?" Lucilla, her tone riddled with deriding accusation, snatched her aggression back from the rising tide of trauma crashing within her breast. After all, what else could she do? If she allowed herself to slip into floundering incomprehension like she had almost a year previous in her medbay room, Ren might mistake that for acceptance. For docility. "You said you weren't supposed to get attached, but you have never been anything but!"

"In theory: No, I wasn't." He confessed calmly, hoping it would be infectious. "But then… That all changed when she came into being. That sterility, that separation didn't last. Long before she was born, I could feel her, hear her, sometimes I could see her…" Once more, Lilia became the focus of the brute that only she could soften. Well… Perhaps there was one other. "I saw you when you didn't see me. Walking him to the bridge, holding your belly where my baby was growing. Doting on him or her, talking to them, stroking them, altering your whole life for them; this tiny life in your hands that your first instinct became to protect and nurture. How could I not get attached? To either of you?"

It would have been remarkably easy for Lucilla to pity the beast just then; judging by the swallow and his seemingly deliberate over-attentiveness to the child in the cot, he was not accustomed to laying himself bare. Or… Perhaps… He never had anyone to lay himself bare to. Had she delved deeper (if she ever summoned that curious nerve) and pulled that thread, so much of the monstrous Kylo Ren would unravel and an entire lifetime would unfold; explaining everything she had ever wondered. It was afternoon tea and a chat for another time.

Still… the quandary remained. As did the marinating silence upon the realization that there was no un-learning of such a mammoth truth. Eyes of heavenly sapphire dropped and reunited with their counterparts of near-black, like everything else about Ren, on their beautiful specimen of a child. Did it change anything? Where Lilia was concerned, no. Just like it changed nothing when Ren initially suggested it in the medbay. Where Orion was concerned? Unreservedly.

"Orion can never know of this." Resolute and transfixed, the Little Empress watched her precious daughter (despite her paternity) wilting with exhaustion once restored to the sanctuary of her crib; the unusual hour and even more unusual activity lending itself too. "It would absolutely destroy him."

In an instant, Lucilla felt the heat of smoulder warming her face and the atmosphere shifted as parental ire swapped.

"What about me?!" Ren's incensed hiss dominated her ear from the other side of the cot; suddenly furious but unwilling to disturb Lilia. His trademark volatility flinted, sparking like his lightsaber, at this seemingly unjustified (justified in his own mind) sentiment. "That's not fair! Why should my daughter be raised by someone else?!"

Lucilla, the typically brazen Lucilla, clicked her tongue and waited to lay waste to that thoroughly childish demand with simple logic. But before she did, the blue-eyed beauty heightened her nonchalant gaze to counter Ren's seething.

"And what did you expect?" She coolly retorted, arching a silky eyebrow that only seemed to provoke him further. I thought I was past this… I thought I was past my body being used…. The initial thought had roused long-buried violation, an understandable reaction for a former pleasure slave to have but… like everything else, she used it. "Impregnating a married woman, with neither her knowledge nor her consent? How did you think that was going to work?"

Naturally, he (gallingly) had no answer. What did she want him to say? That he expected her to abandon her husband and raise their child (and truly, Ren did not believe he had seen the full or last of the fallout from the confession) with him as a mated pair? This… This literal Queen of the Known Universe and him… a failed Jedi and a failed Sith. Supreme Leader, maybe, but only through murder and betrayal; no matter how justified.

"You have put me in an impossible position." She continued with bold sternness while the micromovements in his own expressions portrayed being maddeningly backed into a corner. "Because of your selfishness and inability to think anything through, I must lie to my husband and my daughter. That is your fault." In a stroke of mercy, Lucilla opted to spare the father of her child (despite her composure, she still had trouble stomaching it) from further scolding when it became clear that stewing in his own embarrassed distress would be enough for now. "Now, if you will excuse us, I told Orion we would be with him tonight. And you have some serious recovery to do."

Keeping her word and returning to her packing, the little dove swept from the cot-side, leaving a torn Kylo Ren behind her.

"Let me have her tonight." Perhaps, with her back to him, Lucilla did not expect such a raw, broken plea to come from someone so feared, someone with a reputation that sent chills down the spine of the most seasoned warrior; enough to prompt her to turn inquisitively from her packing once more. Ren, the all-powerful, all-mighty Supreme Leader, had only the dainty form of his unreciprocated devotion within his sights, ever before she turned. With emotion she was not accustomed to seeing (though he had plenty of experience feeling, just without witnesses), the hulking form of Kylo Ren had seemingly reduced to that of a lost, devastated child. While he did his utmost to restrain the quiver in his lip and smother the heave in his chest, the grip on that cascading emotion would not hold out for long. "Let me have her, you don't know what this is doing to me…"

With one final, pitying sigh, the mother relented.

"Very well. You may stay here." Folding clothes became less of a priority and so, the silken slip in her hand was gently tossed into the bag in defeat. "Maker only knows what kind of a biohazard your bed is at the moment."

"Is there anything else, Your Grace?"

"No, MD, I think we're quite alright. Thank you."

Admittedly, the bed did not possess the same level of comfort as her own royal example, but this bed had something hers did not: Her husband. Settled for the night (or what was left of it), Lucilla kept herself as close as physically allowable to watch over every recovering breath; something she felt compelled to do before she rested herself. Sedated and completely at peace, Orion remained none the wiser of his brush with death or, indeed, any of the… uglier… details that had been revealed since.

"Actually, MD?"

The droid halted its exit, stalled from sorting the data from its eventful evening to compile a report for Doctor Craven and her team.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"I wonder… If it is possible…" She had chewed it over plenty, she already knew it was possible and now, Lucilla was steadfast in securing her desires; given recent unfortunate revelations. "I would like some semen samples taken from my husband while he is sedated. Just one or two." One of the reasons for her family's affinity for droids was their enthusiasm to please their master; mostly out of a respectful and symbiotic relationship. Naturally, the loyal medical unit did not question the bizarre request.

"On second thought… Best make it three."