Kylo Ren's absence (much to the little Empress' relentless pondering) following their encounter stemmed from little else than simply… not knowing what to do.
It presented itself as one of those unfortunate side effects of growing up with an insufficient family life, being packed off to a sort-of resurgence of the Jedi Order (where attachment, much less romantic attachment was forbidden) then swallowed into an evil organization where power became his primary focus.
In short, Ren panicked.
Yes, she stoked passion and that passion strengthened his ingrained, unwavering connection to the Dark Side but when the dust settled and that irreversible step had been taken, the unfamiliar territory proved more frightening than he ever dared imagine. To think and fantasize about it is one thing but being in it? That, Ren discovered, is very much another.
He may have stayed in the bedroom a little longer than necessary, longer than he needed to after coaxing Lilia back to sleep, and when he finally managed to leave its safe confines, he found Lucilla lingering by her desk. He did not understand her well enough, despite once boldly believing to the contrary, to recognise the dropped eyes and careful realignment of her focus as regret and awkwardness. So rather than wading further into something he was already terrified of, Ren simply left, and he had not seen her since.
That didn't mean he hadn't spent his waking hours of the last few days cycles (and running on very little sleep for the majority of those) thinking about it. About her. And when the transmission came on the bridge of Supremacy, it jolted him with a mixture of hope and dread.
"Supreme Leader?" One of the console-bound tech officers roused his far-off attention, then gulped when the sudden weight of Ren's almost black eyes fell on him; snapped from his days-old reverie. "Excuse me, sir… We're receiving a transmission from the Star Destroyer Imperialis… The Grand Marshal would like to speak with you, but he is adamant that it is a personal communication, sir."
The delay in Ren's response (much to the tech officer's climbing anxiety) was not born of hesitation; quite the opposite. Instead, his head seemed to fizz with: Kriff, did it happen? Did she tell him? Does he know about Lily? What happens now? What do I do? Do I kill him? If he threatens her or Lily, I will but… what then? Is she mine? Are they mine? There's only one way to find out.
"Re-route it to my chambers, I'll take it there."
"Yes, Supreme Leader. Re-routing now."
"Hux."
"Ren. We assumed you might have been present for Lilia's birthday celebrations."
Shit, that was this week.
"Resistance leads came up." Hardly a lie when he had thrown himself head-first into finding Resistance sympathizers out of distraction. Draining emotion from his tone to let the matter of fact, Ren's drawl conveyed he took no pleasure in missing his "Hold-Daughter's" first birthday in favour of stamping out Resistance scum. After all, someone had to do it and if it meant sacrifice on his part, so be it. Licking his lips, cracked and pale, Ren hoped the sound would not carry across. "I figured the best gift I can give her is a secure, ordered galaxy. I hope to return before the last day of celebrations. Is that what you commed me for?" Hypocrite. He berates me for not being there while he's elsewhere in another fucking Destroyer. Far as he's concerned, she's his daughter…
"Not quite. The purpose of this communication and the reasoning for its covertness is somewhat sinister, therefore I must insist upon absolute secrecy-" Rolling his eyes, they seemed to stick to the durasteel ceiling of Ren's living quarters; the same ones Lucilla had scrubbed when Lilia was little more than a few weeks old.
"I have other matters to attend to, Hux. What is it?" Perhaps the impatience and damn-near disinterest bled through the com speaker. But that was about to change.
"Very well, let's see if we can determine your priorities, shall we? It has come to my attention, that among those I hosted at the gathering a few nights ago, a witness and perpetrator was present. A witness and perpetrator of Lucilla's repeated violation on the night Starkiller was destroyed."
Oh yes. That changed everything alright. Eyes unsticking from the ceiling in slow, dawning realization, the Supreme Leader began one of his restless, trademark paces; despite Ren's heavy, booted footsteps, it may have sounded like the line had gone dead.
"Ren? Are you there? Answer me!"
"What do you suggest?" Softly, the younger of the two opted to disregard his colleague's demanding inquiry in favour of a more sedate question of his own. Usually, the reverse prevailed.
"She said she recognized a Commander in the dining room, a Commander Bray. Apparently, he took his turn with the rest of them but even if he had been little more than an onlooker, I would still want that blonde scalp of his!" Ren, in complete agreement with someone he could normally only barely stand, felt himself nodding along; spurred by slaughterous retribution for the mother of his child. Or… a sanctioned excuse to take out his frustrations on someone else with the usual brutal consequences.
"Go on."
"Lucilla recalls no names other than my father and Damten, both of whom are dead and so are of no use to us where compiling a list of other perpetrators is concerned." I think I know where this is going. "Bray may be able to provide us with those names, but we will not know unless we are able to access his mind in some capacity. If we ask him outright, he may seek to cover for co-conspirators or deny his involvement altogether and he is highly unlikely to part with information that could potentially smear his future career; be it through me, Lucilla or anyone else who was there that night with sway or influence."
"You want me to go into his head."
"It is the most probable outcome, yes. I doubt he will tell us what we wish to know; not when Damten met the fate he did and with Lucilla on the throne. If he has any wit about him, he will guess our intention is to kill him either way."
"What am I not allowed to do?" Knowing Hux and his military dedication, Ren could only assume he would demand a certain dignity for the interrogation of his officers; when it suited him, at least. Futile, really, when the results would come to the same anyway.
"Get me those names, and you may do what you wish. Tear him apart with your bare hands if it so pleases you."
"As much pleasure as it would give me to just storm his vessel, Hux, I don't think-"
"Leave that to me. Bray holds a Command post at an installation on Lothal; in the course of the evening, he expressed some concerns to me, and I will lure him back to the palace under the guise of discussing those concerns further."
"Does she know of this?" He had to ask, or even mention her in some capacity: The object of his affections who now petrified him.
"She knows more blood will be spilt in her name." The Grand Marshal replied, callous nonchalance spilling over the com speaker and saturating the space around Ren. "I don't know if it has registered with you, Ren, but she has gotten quite fond of that lately. So? Can we count on your assistance?" Of course, the answer was obvious and simple. It had always been the case and the Supreme Leader had proved it more than once with gusto.
"Why would that change now?"
"Excellent, I will contact you when a more solid plan is in place." Just when he thought he could return to brooding on the bridge, the invisible redhead threw another curveball his way. "And a word of advice, Ren. I would make it my business to make an appearance at one of Lilia's celebrations-" Before he could retort on the hypocrisy, it died in his throat pre-emptively when Hux went on. "I will be leaving Imperialis in an hour or so, I promised Lucilla I would be back before lunchtime. Why my presence is required at a tea party of all things, I will never understand, but at the moment I am doing my best to mend the situation so if she wants me at the tea party, I'll be at the bloody tea party."
Leaning on his desk, propped up by lightsaber-toned arms, Kylo Ren may have let silent amusement twist his features; if only for the shortest moment. Why? Could there be anything more laughable than his overly-stoic, no-nonsense, unimpassioned military counterpart cornered into attending a child's tea party? More to the point, being forced to be there by his playful and high-spirited (much younger and grossly mismatched) little wife? It tickled a deeply buried funny bone to smugly picture Hux's prudishness and impatience, that's for damn sure.
"I understand Lilia's first birthday is significant-" There, right there, is where the amusement started to dissipate only for incensed revilement to begin taking its place; after all, was volatility not in his very nature? "As future Empress, she should be seen to be growing with Coruscant and the galaxy at large. But a full week of it? If I knew no better, I would think it's little more than an excuse for Lucilla to have cake every day-"
"She's the Empress, Queen of the Known Galaxy." Circumventing the prattle (which Hux indulged in as if they were friends, confidantes), Ren's loyalty to his Empress did not allow for the Grand Marshal's commentary on what she ate; hence cutting across it before his irritation could burrow further. "She doesn't need an excuse or an occasion to eat cake. And I think she should be entitled to celebrate her only child's birthday as she sees fit, don't you?" The tense silence that followed carried a dare, one the caller read loud and clear. In the midst of it, unbeknownst to Ren, Hux's eyes had narrowed and his mind rippled. Perhaps it was nothing more than Ren's mysterious dedication to the throne and the entire concept of Galactic Imperialism that now included Orion's own wife and daughter. She may have been his wife, but Ren regarded her in a way that Orion did not really understand; if he cared to observe it further, he might find his darker counterpart's attentions unsettling.
"Regardless." Brushing it aside, the Grand Marshal's interest in the conversation appeared to have dwindled to a delicate thread. "I will be in touch when our manoeuvres against Commander Bray are in motion. Until then."
Just like that, the communication curtly ended, not that Ren noticed. Still hunched over the desk like a beast preparing to pounce and launch itself at prey, he glared at nothing and simmered internally; letting it slowly churn to rage.
You have the gall to complain about being expected at a tea party. "Your" daughter's first birthday tea party. What I wouldn't give to be able to have it openly like you do, you ungrateful fuck. To have her in my arms or on my lap. To hold her and help her blow out her candle…
Y'know what…?
Straightened and decisive, Ren's full brick-shithouse of a form crossed the floor space of his living quarters in only a few dominant steps; fuelled by intention, jealousy, and undiluted fury.
I have a tea party to go to.
The (so-far) female-dominated tea party was a reasonably small, intimate affair. In fact, it was more for the Empress' and Princess' personal staff; giving them the opportunity to sit, drink tea, eat (a vast variety of) cake and enjoy (one of) the toddler's special day with her. Not to mention using the occasion as a small "Thank You" for the exceptional care, adoration, and attention they showered on her.
Until, in the midst of the whimsical festivities, a male palace guard appeared at Her Grace's shoulder and murmured something to drain the (minimal) colour from her face.
"Annah…" Despite the relaxed atmosphere and a feeling of not really being on the clock, her loyal maid jumped to the call immediately and swept the Princess from her mother's arms as she rose. "Excuse me, ladies. There is something commanding my attention but please… carry on without me."
If the colour had drained from the blue-eyed beauty's face upon the utterance of a palace guard, she must have looked positively corpse-like when she clapped said eyes on the conundrum itself. Or… the back of it, to be perfectly specific. But she would know it anywhere.
Or rather… Her.
Lucilla ignored the ripple of excitement and the whispers it prompted among the few gathered spectators as her strides claimed the throne room and made directly for the still-shackled captive. Her stomach, full of tea and cake (with a token sandwich or two for balance), squirmed with nerves during that seemingly endless approach and the very idea of opening her mouth threatened her with the humiliation of puking. After all, such is an expected reaction when their last interaction led to a very delicate little dove being exiled, isolated, and left to the mercy of the elements.
However, if the dark-haired darling had proved anything, it was her forgiving nature.
"Leia!"Upon turning, it was her alright: tired, afraid, and out of her depth but doing all in her power to maintain her trademark composure that had kept the Resistance afloat for so long; the dignity and strength of a Princess, Senator and General.
In a heart-wrenching move that made Lucilla quicken her pace with arms outstretched, Leia tried (unsteadily) to defeatedly sink to one frail knee. But not before the Empress could get to her.
"Leia!" She hissed passionately, but only enough for the General to hear; enveloping her in her arms in a bid to hoist her up before she could go any further. "Stop it, stand up!" Twisting frantically at the waist to a nearby guard while still clutching her old employer (?), the Empress' desperation only climbed. "Unshackle her! Immediately!"
The tell-tale click and subsequent clunk of the heavy restraints unlocking and tumbling from the older woman's delicate wrists seemed to have everyone present holding their breaths, but Lucilla's heed centred on only one thing.
"Come…" No longer required to help Leia stand, the little dove kept her close regardless and guided her past the ogling of guards and spectators alike. "Let's get you seen to…"
The staff had disbanded with only Annah staying behind; warily eyeing the latest addition for whom the Empress herself had poured a cup of tea and hand-selected sandwiches and cakes for a plate.
"You still haven't told me what happened." The last thing Lucilla did before reclaiming her seat opposite General Leia Organa, was reclaim her child from Annah.
Fixated on the cup and the dark brown liquid within, Leia appeared not to have heard her; trying to buy herself time in answering while recalculating what had happened so far. After all, her estimations had come to her being lobbed into a holding cell and left there until the Princess' birthday celebrations were over. Or worse.
Tea? Cakes? Sandwiches? More hot food en route? In the Empress' personal chambers? This… This was not what Leia expected when she made the dreaded decision but if the sacrifice could even suggest peace, surely it was worth a try?
"The last few days… I've been getting report after report of Resistance members and former Resistance members being ferreted out of hiding, tortured, some killed, threats to the families of others to flush them out…" Harrowed but realizing safety, Leia's measured ramble began but she never seemed to lift her eyes from the teacup clutched in pale, fragile hands; the plate of food, for now, lay to the side.
"I couldn't take it anymore. I was safe… hidden away… but my people were dying and being hounded all around me. I couldn't just sit by and let it happen anymore so… I made the decision to hand myself in, in the hope I could protect what was left of the Resistance." Leia, worn and physically and emotionally drained by the trauma of defeated leadership, finally heightened eyes of the deepest brown (that Lucilla should have recognized) to her sympathetic "captor". The grey braid coiled to adorn her head bobbled slightly as her head shook with pained resolve. "So I made my way here. It was only a matter of time before I was arrested and escorted the rest of the way."
"That's very admirable of you." Genuinely, Lucilla could align with the sentiment; after all, putting herself forward in the stead of those most vulnerable (who she could relate to through personal experience) had led to her taking the throne in the first place. The little Empress, under the doleful watch of another (previously) powerful woman, inched to the edge of her seat and brought her daughter with her; she did so in the hope of galvanizing belief in Leia that she spoke the truth. "It's very important for you to understand, Leia, that I knew nothing of this persecution. Ren-" The mere mention of the name drew Leia's gaze to the toddler taking up Lucilla's lap: the beautiful little girl whose presence alone (never mind the big blue eyes that struck Leia to her very soul) made her heart flutter. Why? The General knew why, or suspected so, but looking upon her now, like looking back thirty-something years, there was no way it could be untrue. Maybe Keir wasn't wrong after all…
"…Sometimes he goes off half-cocked; we may not see him for days or weeks on end and Maker only knows what he's been up to in that time. I wish to assure you, however, that if Ren is responsible, he did so with neither my blessing nor my permission. Once my husband was returned to me, I had no interest in pursuing the Resistance-"
"She's beautiful." It came from nowhere, the words tumbling from lips only recently wetted by tea; possibly one of the most divine blends she had ever encountered, not that her focus centred on it. Lucilla, curious by the sudden detour, halted her diplomacy and blinked through the derailment. Leia, however, donated her interest to one and one only; going so far as to poise herself to set her teacup and saucer aside.
"Thank you, she's-"
"May I?" The action had become clear, a pre-emption of acceptance and blessing of freeing her hands to hold this exceptionally special child; a child that (had things gone the way Leia expected once upon a time when her son left to become a Jedi) she never dreamed she would get to meet, a child that never should have existed. But there she sat, only a foot away: another Skywalker, another Solo.
Surprised but flattered, and therefore accommodating, Lucilla obliged.
"Of course."
Annah may have opened her mouth to voice her objection (knowing her Empress valued her input in most things but especially her daughter) but swallowed it and trusted her employer. Instead, she stayed vigilant.
Still somewhat (pleasantly) caught off guard by the out-of-the-blue request, the little dove took to her feet and hoisted Lilia to deliver her into the waiting arms of a supposed enemy. This "enemy" accepted her with the utmost care and reverence; tucking her to her chest for comfort and security amid soft greetings: almost like a grandparent would. More to the point, Princess Lily responded as any grandchild would by snuggling close in an unexplained, previously-existing bond; much to the mystification of her mother but it would not stay that way for long.
Leia, in a sudden burst of melancholic nostalgia, savoured the warm weight in her lap and tried to cast her mind back to when she had last felt its like… So long… And nowhere near as often as I should have… Lilia and Lucilla did not have that problem. Despite mother and daughter being immune from a mutual Force bond, they harboured the next best thing that, in Leia's estimation, seemed to be just as powerful. Its power, derived and nurtured from sheer love and devotion, also carried a certain level of defiance; apparently, it was not the done thing for royalty (or the Imperial mindset in general) to be so involved with their children.
Yes, Lilia had a nanny but that young woman had an exceptionally easy job compared to others in her position down through the years. It seemed it was not proper for her daughter to be present during council, for her to sleep in her mother's bed or, indeed, for Lucilla to still nurse her herself. The response to such criticism tended to be simple, and Lucilla had used these very words on more than one occasion when it was inevitably rehashed: Fuck that.
The two entwined females, the oldest and youngest present in the room, felt their heed drawn to the door; their heads shortly following to the pounding of heavy, booted footsteps. Lilia, calm and at ease in Leia's genial grasp up until the door flung open, did wriggle slightly but it had been so long since she had seen the dark staple of her life that she could not help herself. The General remained passive.
Lucilla, however, was not so restrained. The second she clocked Ren's trademark entrance (of the door nearly derailing by the sheer force of… well, the Force… jamming it back into its wall pocket), she sprung to her dainty feet once more to charge and meet him head-on. Ren, on the other hand, sensing something strange, slowed his tread to something far more curious and docile. Naturally, his eyes fell upon the chair beside the fire where an untouched plate of party goodies sat forgotten. His view quickly became obstructed by a bristling little Empress in defence mode; placing herself between him and the chair holding a very familiar woman while embodying challenge in her tiny stature.
"Harm a hair on her head." The spat dare came with locked fiery eyes and the adorable scrunch of a nose that (probably) was not supposed to be adorable. Or endearing. Or cute. Or anything else Ren deemed it to be in his own mind. But she was not finished. "Harm a hair on her head and I promise you, you will never see Lilia again. Do you hear me?!"
As opposed to feeling threatened or afraid, as was most likely her intention, the Supreme Leader simply looked past her with bemusement etched into usually unreadable features. For what seemed like an age, he stared, until finally, the dark shaggy head began to alternate: The General, to the seething Empress, back to the General, back to the Empress; only to casually utter two innocuous words that would surely cause Lucilla to keel over.
"Hello, mother."