7/23/1

"You want me to just… invite them here?" Kylo asks, looking over at Kinear and Schiff, who are sitting across from him, and Jon, who they appear to have enlisted in some sort of scheme to have… a party.

"Yes. The new colonies all have some sort of provisional leadership. It would be beneficial for them to meet with the people we're going to import to either run or fix things up, before they get there, in a relaxed setting," Kinear says.

Kylo rubs his lips together. That doesn't sound unreasonable.

"Plus, they get to meet you, feel like they're being welcomed into the Order, that they are valuable to you," Schiff adds.

Okay, that's good, too. But, there are fifty names on this list, and that's way too many for just a 'Welcome To The Order' gathering. "That's a third of the people on this list."

Schiff nods. "Yes it is. Everyone else on that list either runs, or wants to be running, a colony we could improve."

Kylo nods, still eyeing the names. Most of them mean nothing to him. "Won't their home worlds object?"

Schiff nods. "Oh, they would, if they knew. When I say run, I mean we're inviting the people who are the provisional governors or executive officer."

"The ones who would complain to the homeworld about unruly workers grumbling to leave," Kinear adds.

"Or… interesting developments regarding organization and alliances between said colony and a new parent system," Schiff adds. "If we make it worth their while to work with us, it's entirely likely, especially in these larger systems, where there are multiple light decades between the home planet and the colonies, that we'll have entirely taken over before the homeworld even knows we're there.

Kylo looks to Jon, who's just been sitting there, listening to this, not being what he'd consider terribly helpful. Jon just looks back at him. He's not about to set a toe out of line here, now. In fact, like many junior officers in an incredibly comfortable niche, he has no desire whatsoever for any of the higher ups to notice him, because they'll likely try to move him out of his incredibly comfortable niche.

Kylo looks back to Schiff and Kinear. "And we do this by having a party?"

Kinear's grinning. "Aye, sir, we do. A state dinner, and a grand one at that. It's amazing what honeyed words and honeyed wine can do."

Kylo rolls his eyes, shakes his head a little, and says, "Fine. Have your party. Get me at least two additional colonies out of it."

Schiff grins. "Done, sir."

Jon lingers, waiting for the General and Admiral to leave. He's said not a single word more than was necessary to explain the look, theme, and costs of said party and putting the guests up in accommodations that would please them.

Once they're gone, he says to Kylo, "I'm sorry, sir. General Kinear grabbed me and… he didn't order me not to say anything about it, but it was awfully implied that I shouldn't until he brought it to you."

Kylo nods. "And like any good officer, you take orders from whomever outranks you."

Jon's look says it all.

"Did his… request, feel off to you?"

"No, but… My mother had a rule, when someone in power tells you not to tell the guy at the top of the heap what's going on, start yelling. Something's going to go sideways. I couldn't think of any dangerous sideways for this, so, I didn't yell, but…"

"Okay. You are now, hereby, directly ordered to tell me anytime anyone asks you to do anything you think I should know about."

"Thank you, sir."

"So…" Kylo leads.

"Sir?"

"You were here, you listened, is this worth it? I know those two want to do this. I can feel they think it will be useful, but it's easy to decide the things you want are necessary. What do you think?"

Jon shrugs. "I want to do it, so I'm not terribly objective on if this is necessary."

"You… like things like this?"

He shrugs again. "I always did. My mom's clients would, often, invite her or us to the weddings. Mom never liked leaving Coruscant, so she'd send us to the off-world ones. I saw more splendid parties than you can imagine. And, maybe it's shallow or unworthy, or wasteful, but it was beautiful." He touches one of his sketches of the throne room decked out for the festivities. "We spent so long destroying everything we touched. There's something to be said for something beautiful to celebrate the connections and alliances we're making."

Kylo looks at the sketch. He nods slowly, feeling Jon seeing his palace coming to life. "There is."

"Thoughts?" he says to Rey later that night, after explaining what Kinear, Schiff, and Jon have hit him with while they eat.

"Better you than me?" she replies.

"That's useful."

She shrugs. "It doesn't sound… I don't know. I mean, if it gets you what you want…"

"If."

"If… Worst comes to worst, it doesn't work and you don't do it again?"

Kylo supposes that's one way to look at it. "Worst comes to worst, it does, and I have to do it a lot."

She smirks at him. "Would that be a bad thing?"

He sighs, and doesn't think, too loudly, only if I don't have to do it alone. Instead, he changes the subject. "How'd your adventures in teaching Maji philosophy to the Kennas go?"

Rey rolls her eyes extravagantly, and then allows herself to slouch into Kylo. He wraps his arm around her and kisses her forehead. "The kids never give me this much trouble. They're constantly telling me I'm wrong. Often about the philosophy I'm creating myself."

"Speaking of better you than me." He figures he could take, at most, ten minutes of that before he had to leave to hit something.

"Really. I'm proud to say that not only have I not hit either of them, I've started fobbing them off onto Threepio, who enjoys lecturing them about what the books actually say."

Kylo smirks at that. "He always did like being the smartest thing in the room."

"And he still does." She reaches for a roll, and begins to spread butter on it. "Better yet, R2's here, and he was lurking about, not really paying much attention, until Threepio and the Kennas got talking about Yoda, and then… Okay, all I'll say about that is A: it's a good thing they had no idea what he was saying, and B: Yoda, at least according to R2, was something of a turd."

Kylo smirks at that. "He's still angry about being left out in the rain, isn't he?"

"The rain, the swamp, getting hit with a walking stick, and something about pretending not to know who he was. Threepio got really interested in that, and they wandered off to talk for a bit, but… Yeah."

Kylo looks at her for a moment, putting together the comment about the walking stick, and what Luke said to him. He shakes his head a little, and reaches for another roll, too. "These are good."

Rey nods. "Make sure they go on the regular rotation."

"I can do that."

8/18/1

"I'll be late tonight," Kylo says to Rey.

"I know." She smirks a little. "What was that about rich people, powers that be, and ballrooms not being part of your experience?"

He glares at her, though there's not any heat in it, says "No ballroom," and flashes away from Lirium.

"So, what am I supposed to do at this thing?" Kylo asks, standing in his office, waiting with Kinear, about to go into his throne room for the first ever state dinner hosted by The Order.

"Be pleasant," Kinear says with a smile. A smile with knives in it. "And don't shake hands."

Kylo rolls his eyes. "It was a dominance game."

"I know. I've played it a million times, and until you're willing to lose one, don't play."

"Why would I lose?"

Kinear fiddles with his already perfect cuffs. "Because, sometimes, a quick loss now sets you up for a better, bigger win later. Because if you do decide you're going to engage in stupid handholding games, and literally crush anyone who challenges you, you're going to have more and more people try, hoping they'll be the one to win, and sooner or later, one of them will. So, until you're ready to give someone a gentle grasp and then let go, don't shake hands."

Kylo sighs, that makes more sense than he'd like.

Kinear can see he's less than a minute from cancelling this. "Don't do that. Go out there, be pleasant, meet people, remember their names and at least something about them, and do your best to make them understand that they want to work with you because it'll work out better for them in the long run."

"I'm not cut out for this."

"You asked for a map. Sometimes the path leads us through rough territory. You'll get through this."

Kylo sighs, forcing himself into a very tall, very straight, very uncomfortable looking posture.

"Good Lord! Stop that! At ease, comfortable. Fake it if you can't feel it. I was never within a thousand light years of your father, but he had a reputation for staying cool when everything around him was hot. It's in your blood, so use it."

Kylo raises an eyebrow at him, and Kinear nods briefly, he knows exactly who Kylo's father is.

"This is your home and you've invited people who you hope to encourage to work with you to it. That's politics. You're Leia Organa's boy. Breha and Bail Organa's grandson. Politics is also in your blood. You were literally born for this, Prince Ben of Alderaan. Now, go, do it."

Kylo swallows at that. Apparently, Kinear has done the research.

He nods to the lightsaber. "You want peace, take it off. They are guests of honor in your home. Meet them unarmed. It'll go better."

He can feel Kylo doesn't like that. And not liking that is pulling his attention away from the fact that Kinear knows vastly more about him than he should.

"Tuck a knife into your boot or sleeve if you like, pretend you can't kill a man with a twitch of your finger, but look unarmed. You've invited these people into your capitol ship, for a bit of socializing and a good meal, because you want to build a better galaxy with them, so give them a warm welcome and start explaining how joining up with us is the key to that better galaxy."

Kylo inhales, fast, holds up one hand, and stalks out of his office and back to his room. He changes into his formal clothing fast, and pulls his hair back. He eyes the cologne, but since he's never actually played with it, he's not sure how much to put on and he's already starting to border on late, so…

When he steps out, Kinear eyes the clothing. This is Jon's second go at it. Most of the pieces are the same, though the silver accents have been muted down to light gray or steel gray. Still expensive and elegant, but less shiny. He notes the cut, the lack of weapons, and looks satisfied. "Better. Come, Master, let's charm them into our embrace."

Kylo doesn't roll his eyes, he does say, quietly, "What gives you the idea I've ever done that before?"

Kinear smiles grandly. "Your lady pulled you away from your work, not the other way around. Obviously, at least once, you managed to be charming."

Kylo smirks, a little at that, thinking of how he got Rey in the first place. "I sent my entire squadron after her, found her in the forest, knocked her out, strapped her to a chair, and then interrogated her."

Kinear stifles a quick laugh. "That may be a sub-optimal strategy for this. Just be nice, and pretend you enjoy talking to and listening to these people." As they're a few meters from the door, Kinear says, "You know, it's fairly common for people to bring their companions to things like this. Most of the people attending this have brought their partners."

Kylo understands the intention behind that sentence, but he doesn't reply directly to it. He says, "Will your wife be joining us?" instead.

"Of course. On a mission like this, I never fight alone. It's good to always have someone watching your back."

"Introduce me to her?"

"I was planning to."

Kylo takes one last deep breath as the doors slide open, and then does his best to at least fake being happy to meet with these people in a relaxed setting.

Originally, Kylo's throne room was a ship hangar. He had no interest in taking over Snoke's rooms. (This would be putting it mildly, he'd ordered them destroyed, but when it was gently explained to him, by an extremely nervous Hux, that the ship was holding together by luck and steeltape, so maybe it didn't need any extra holes in it, he acquiesced to just abandoning them. He thinks they're using them for storage space now.)

The only requests he had for his rooms were related to access. One elevator. One door from the throne room to his office, one door from his office to his rooms.

There wasn't anything that quite fit that bill. But General Ulnitor, was one of Snoke's pets, so he had a private hanger for his ship, his own office, and his own rooms. He also didn't survive Holdo's attack. They ripped one of the elevators out. Stuffed a throne in the middle of the hanger, and probably painted the whole thing black. (He knows he didn't ask for black, but it damn well was black when he got here. He's not sure if Hux took care of that, or not.)

Kylo took one look at it, decided it'd do, and that was that.

That said, since Jon's gotten done with it, his throne room is finally starting to look… Impressive.

Like any mechanical bay, it's got struts and joists to keep the ceiling high. And, of course, it's got an entire "wall" of empty space. With a view of the galaxy, something people who generally live on land don't get to see. Jon also had the mechanics rip the ceiling off, extending the field that keeps the atmosphere in place.

So now, he's got a huge expanse of black metal, studded with white lights, with a his throne, which he's not sitting in because the damn thing is fucking uncomfortable, in the middle, surrounded by people and a long table, overlooking endless sky. Stars in front of them, stars above, and the cradle of the Order keeping them safe.

Kylo likes it. He's more than a little nervous about all the people in here, and he's being introduced to them, which is making his palms sweat a little, but at least the throne room looks fucking amazing.

He feels it when Jon sees him, the all over intake of air at seeing one of his creations come into play, and also the thrill that Kylo's taking this step.

Kylo decides he likes the fact that someone here is unreservedly pleased to see him.

The rest of the party… Well, they're certainly interested.

He's not sure if that's good, but it's something, so…

Time to be pleasant.

Of the myriad ways Kylo Ren has been described, pleasant isn't among them. But he's damn well trying.

It's hard.

And part of him feels like this is beyond futile. The idea that standing around, smiling (at least occasionally), sipping a cup of coffee, (Not wine. There is wine. A lot of it. There are droids doing nothing but circling around refilling people's glasses. He understands why Kinear's making sure that their guests have a lot of it. But, unlike the rest of his staff, he doesn't need the people around him to be at least somewhat drunk to feel what they're feeling/thinking.) trying to make functional small talk with… dignitaries… could result in anything positive boggles him.

But, he can feel a lot of the people around him are deeply intrigued by this.

And some of them are starting to think he might be useful. If for nothing else than a way to offload their own maladjusted miscontents. He may not be getting much in the way of colonies from this, but at the very least he'll have permission to put his recruiting stations nearby. He's not exactly sure that's who he's hoping to recruit, but… Maybe he wasn't ever the Crown Prince of Alderaan. Not really. But he's fairly comfortable with the idea that he could easily be the Crown Prince of Maladjusted Miscontents.

People, not planets.

He'll find a use for them.

Others… he can feel the greed. They want to set themselves up in their own little kingdoms. And he appears to be offering a way for them to do just that. He has a feeling they're going to be massively shocked when they realize that they'll have the option of joining the Order or going back to their homeworld once he's fully got control of this, but… That's later.

For now, he needs enough access to get his people in, and from there…

Smile at her. He feels Kinear thinking it, loud and direct. He doesn't appear to be paying any attention to Kylo at all. He and Schiff are off glad-handing some… Actually, Kylo has no idea who they're talking to. He met the… he's actually not sure what it is, either. For the sake of simplicity, he'll call it a person, and go from there.

He met the person in the receiving line. Nodded at… it… Attempted to remember what it was and why it's here, but… Any and all information regarding the person are gone by now.

The her in question is a very pretty girl, and this one may literally be a girl. If she's more than seventeen standard years old he'd be shocked, except… She's acting a lot older. Looks younger than Rey, but…

She's trying to flirt with me.

Kinear doesn't glance away from the person, doesn't blink, doesn't indicate anything other than an amiable chat is happening as he thinks to Kylo, I know, flirt back.

The first thought that goes ricocheting through Kylo's mind would be How? And that makes him feel bad because not only does he not know how to do this, but he feels like even if he did, he shouldn't. He doesn't blast Kinear with Rey's at home, and I don't want to do this, well, maybe I do, but I shouldn't, and there are all these complicated feelings, and I never learned how to do this as a teenager like most humans do, and shit she is really attractive, and with as tall as I am I can more or less see directly down her dress, and okay, those are some really nice breasts, and I don't want to notice that either, and I love my wife, and… He's about to shatter the coffee cup in his hand when Jon swoops in and says, "I'm sorry, Miss, Master Ren, I need your attention for a moment," and then pulls him away.

And away.

And out of the room to his office.

"Better?" Jon asks.

Kylo takes a deep breath and nods. "Yes. Thank you."

Jon's eyeing him. "You looked really uncomfortable there."

"I was. I… don't… know how to do that."

Jon blinks, and then slowly nods, and says, "Well, uh… generally, you… Sort of smile, and say something nice, and just kind of flow with it."

"I didn't want to flow with it."

Jon blinks again, and rapidly comes to the conclusion that Kylo's more than a tad rough on certain skills. Then he comes to another conclusion, and that's this is an adult man who likely doesn't know that it's okay to be attracted to people who are not your mate. He blinks once more in surprise. Then, worse, he sees how Kylo is staring at him, like he's some sort of lifeline who's got the answers to this, and… "Uh… your… love… Is she your… first?" He feels off treading into this territory, but he's got the sinking suspicion that no one else ever has before, so…

"Yes."

Jon nods again. "Ah. And… uh… You two are still… fairly new? Less than two years, maybe?"

Kylo nods at that, too.

"Okay." Jon rubs his lips together, not entirely sure how to breach this subject. "So… Okay… Uh… The thing is…" The thing is the wolves, or whatever, who raised you damn well should have had this conversation with you by now, or better yet, fifteen years ago… That's inappropriate. And… shit, Kylo's eye flinched as he was thinking that, so he likely heard it. Time to save this. "Your heart and your shaft aren't always going to be on the same plan. And that's really normal. Especially, if you've been with someone for a while. And by normal, I mean it happens to literally everyone. No exceptions. At all. Ever. And… uh… usually… most people will have a discussion, at some point, about uh… what they're going to do about that. A lot of humans seem to prefer just being with one person at a time. Some of them don't. I've seen people form trios and quads, too. Or continuing to see lots of people. But, that's generally something they work out between them."

Kylo just blinks at him.

"Okay, the point I'm trying to make is, it's completely normal to see someone and enjoy looking. You do not have to feel bad about that. And, if you and your lady haven't already, you might want to have a little chat with her about what the lines are, but… Really, having a warm conversation with someone you find attractive, while you're in public and surrounded by fifty other people should not be over the line. And if it is over the line, most people would tell you that if your mate has that much of a stranglehold on you that you need to get out of that relationship."

Kylo blinks at that, too. Jon looks at him expectantly. Finally he says, "I… It's not anything from her that makes this uncomfortable. I can't imagine it'd bother her. She'd… know that this is troublesome for me, so she wouldn't be worried, but… It bothers me."

Jon's turn to blink. "Uh…"

"I don't want to want anyone else. It feels bad to me."

Jon nods, getting that. "Well, I'd admit monogamy would be easier if you were never attracted to anyone else, but… That's not how it works. Maybe you decide that only having sex with her makes you both happy. Maybe you decide that you both like sex with other people," Jon sees Kylo wince at him just saying it, and amends it to, "Or not. But… wanting to break stuff because you got a view of a girl's boobs, when she's wearing a dress" Jon gestures with his fingers mimicking the cut of the dress, "specifically designed to show them off and attract your attention to them, isn't a good plan."

Kylo exhales through clenched teeth. "What did you and… your man… what was his name?"

"Lane… His name was Lane, and, we were monogamous. But, neither of us was dead or blind, so… And, uh… we had… similar tastes in men… so… looking, together was something of a treat." Jon thinks about it. "It's a lot like food. There really isn't any one right way to eat it. And yes some people don't get on well with some foods, so they should avoid them. And too much of other foods can make you sick. But, really, when it comes down to it, figuring how you and your partner like to have sex should be a lot like figuring out how you like to eat. You don't always only have your favorite meal, or only hers, and if there's something you don't like, she doesn't make you choke it down just to please her, and… And you just work it out based on what feels right for you."

"Wanting someone else doesn't feel right."

"Wanting someone else doesn't feel right, or having someone else doesn't feel right, and you're afraid if you want you might step over the line and have?"

Kylo looks away, really uncomfortable. "It's not that, exactly. I really don't want to want or have. I've got all the having I could possibly want at home. But it'd be so easy, you know? She, and the others, are there, dressed like that, specifically to get me to look, and to want, and to have. It's a game to them. A series of orchestrated manipulations, for a politically desired end result, and apparently my shaft is the easiest bit of me to manipulate, so… They'll throw anyone at me who has any chance of making me hard, and… And I hate how that feels. I hate that I fall for it. I hate that I see… and want… and I'm proving them right, because they're watching, closely, and I know if I look like I'm enjoying it, they'll throw more of them at me, and… I can feel it. I could be Kinear's age, horribly disfigured, three quarters machine, and they'd still be flashing their… what did you call them?"

"Boobs?"

Kylo decides he likes that term. "Boobs in my face. They don't want me. They don't know enough me to even begin to be interested in wanting me. They want The Order and the access to power I provide and… And they think by appealing to my shaft they might get it. And my shaft, stupid, fucking lump of flesh, is sitting there thinking, 'BOOOBS! Oh, they look so soft!'"

Jon sniggers. "Well, best I can tell, that's just being a man who likes women. I mean… they are soft, you know? Like, really soft!"

"I know…" And small, and fit just right in his hand, and mouth, and trail over his chest, or against his back, and that one time, when she was leaning over him, and holding them together he could rub between them, and that actually didn't work so well with Rey because hers are little, but the other girl had big ones and… Kylo realizes what Jon said, and that jerks him out of what he appreciates about boobs. "You know?"

Jon smiles. "Yeah, I know. I wasn't born married. I uh… had a good time, and uh… probably every sort of good time you can imagine… and… uh… I'm going to guess more than a few you can't… in my late teens and early twenties, because, well, I went to a lot of weddings, and people at weddings often… want to fuck. And… well, I like people, so… Uh... yeah, I know." He's staring at Kylo, more or less willing him to get the idea so he doesn't have to spell it out any clearer.

"Oh." Kylo's feeling really surprised at that. "So…"

Jon nods, a pleased expression on his face. "And that was an especially fine set of boobs in a dress exquisitely designed to show them off as nicely as possible, and yes, I noticed. Every person with a pulse and an even vague interest in women at this thing noticed. The people who don't like women noticed. The droids serving drinks noticed. The fucking drinks noticed. That was probably a fifteen thousand credit dress designed to put her boobs on full display. That jewel between them was not there as an accident, it's there to make you look.

"And, look, I… have no idea what to do about why they're flashing boobs in your face. You're not wrong. I mean, sex has been a way to gain power probably as long as sex and power have been things, and… It's not going to stop. Ever. You're right, you'll be a hundred and three, on a ventilator, and as long as they think you might like boobs, boobs are going to be coming your way, so… I mean… I don't know… Treat it like scenery? Something pretty to look at while you go about your job. Just… don't stare. Glance. Yeah, it's annoying that they think they can manipulate you with your shaft, but, the longer you go without giving in, probably the less intense the pressure will be?" Jon offers him a half-smile.

Kylo rolls his eyes a bit, glares at the door, and then says, "We should get back in there, right?"

"Yes, and if anyone asks why you were pulled away, smile, and say you've handled it. That's mysterious but makes it seem like it's not terribly serious." Jon glances at the coffee cup, still in Kylo's hand. "And… a lot of people drink alcohol because it makes uncomfortable social situations feel better…"

Kylo shakes his head. "No. Not here. Not surrounded by strangers."

"Okay." Jon steps toward the door. "Come on."

Kinear doesn't hover near him as the evening wears on. He breaks off quickly, and begins to circle through the room, a glass of wine in his hand, and if his wife is here, Kylo doesn't know which of the ladies she is. He's not interacting with any of the ladies more than any other one.

He does notice that Kinear is holding his drink, and he lifts it to his lips, and he makes a swallowing motion, but he's not drinking. He moves around enough that no one notices the level of wine in his glass isn't dropping, and by an hour into the night he's acting drunk.

As he's noticing that, a tiny woman, her head barely reaching his deltoid, sidles up next to him. She has light gray hair, the brightest blue eyes he's ever seen, and a fairly simple, but elegant, gown of white silk and red lace.

"Master," she says, bowing her head.

He knows who she has to be. "Lady Kinear."

"Call me, Ellie."

"Ellie. I had asked him to introduce me."

"He may. Or may not. He did tell me to come over and introduce myself. Generally we circle separately. He won't be seen with me unless it improves the outlook of the evening."

"And will it improve the evening?"

"Not sure, yet. Right now, we cover twice as much ground, but there may be a time when he'll do better if he looks so drunk his wife has to swoop in to 'rescue' him."

"Do you do this a lot?"

She smiles up at him, eyes and face bright. "More this last year than the thirty before it, combined, but yes, a long time ago, we used to do this a lot. Granted, back then we weren't old enough to convincingly play dottering. There's not much being ninety-two is good for, but when you need to look like a harmless old bag of bones, it works wonders."

"Ah."

She takes his hand, and gently pats it. His eyes widen at that touch. They go slightly wider when she thinks at him, hard, You're doing fine. Keep smiling. They like this.

He blinks. How do you know to do this?

Like I said, old bag of bones. Used to be you couldn't go a thousand meters through the Senate without tripping on a Jedi. Think hard enough at one of them, and they'll notice what you're doing. Helps if you're touching one.

Did you used to work with them?

Not exactly. I'd occasionally need to chat with one without looking like I was saying anything. She lets go of his hand. "Lovely party, Master."

"Thank you."

"I believe dinner is about to be served."

He notices that there are people hovering near the fully set table. "I think you are right." A tiny, shriveled memory of Lando's wedding, when he was getting ready to lead them to the tables, springs to the front of his mind. He offers Lady Kinear his hand.

She smiles up at him. Right instincts, wrong gal. Go find Lady Holthinne. She and her husband are the head of your newest colony, and ostensibly your guests of honor. Stick her on your right, him on your left, and pretend to be fascinated by her stories. Listen to what she's saying. It'll appear to be some stupid surface topic, flower breeding or the like, but listen, understand what she's telling you between the words, and respond accordingly.

Thank you.

Ellie looks up at him and smiles. "Master."

It's not flower breeding.

In fact, if she'd been talking about flower breeding, he'd have had to work less hard to pretend to be interested. No, he wasn't good with the plants at Luke's school (To the point where he spent three years in charge of nothing but weed control, because plants he spent too much time with tended to die.), but he did work with them, and actually knows something about gardening.

Lady Holthinne is talking about… shit… he lost the track of the story at least six paragraphs ago. He's trying to figure out what she may be saying between the words, but whatever it is, it's so far between the words he's utterly clueless to what it may be.

It's so far between, he can't pull it out of her head, either.

It's entirely possible she's just something of a twit going on at length about… Her cousin's son's vlady team's winning season. He's not entirely sure what vlady is, other than, apparently some sort of game…

Oh… He offers her a little smile as he finally gets a feel for what's going on. Someone's noticed the junjan token he wears. He doesn't think of it as a game token any longer. It's the symbol of the Maji, and that's it, but somehow, somewhere, she got a story that indicated he likes games, so she's talking to him about the only game she knows anything about.

He can't find a deeper meaning, because she's trying to get him comfortable enough with some sort of surface topic so she can move to a deeper one.

He does his best to smile in the right places, and look interested, and not, too visibly, check the chronometer every twenty seconds.

By dessert, (Which he makes a note to ask for again, it's a rich custard, smooth and creamy, scented with rose petals and delicately almond-flavored. The taste is good, but the texture is squishier and more jiggly than he likes his food, but Rey'll love it.) the flower breeding conversation has come out, and this time he actually has something to say, except…

Apparently, it's some sort of code to figure out if he's looking for a wife. Actually, more specifically, it's a tentative feeler to see if she might end up with a grandchild as the next Master of the Order.

He supposes this is better than just bringing her daughters along and tossing them in his path. (He glances around the table, and is fairly sure at least fourteen of the women and five of the men are here for exactly that reason. Apparently, the rumor mill hasn't focused down enough to know what it is he may be interested in having sex with. Kylo's not sure if that's a good thing or not.) But, the conversation is boring, and he couldn't be less interested in whatever offspring this woman may have, let alone as a potential spouse.

"Unfortunately, every plant I've ever tended has died shortly thereafter."

Her eyes go shockingly wide, and he gets the sense that that was possibly too emphatic of a response. (He can feel Ellie, three seats down, sniggering behind an effortlessly fascinated face as she talks to the man on her right. Apparently, she approved of his answer. Apparently, she also knows he's already, so to speak, tending his own garden, and is beyond content with the flower in it.)

Lady Holtheinne doesn't say anything about flowers after that.

He wonders, as he finishes the dessert, what Rey would think of this. He'll tell her about it not nearly soon enough, so he knows she'll learn about it, but… Would she enjoy something like this?

He may be standing around, feeling like a thumb without a hand, but he's noticing that Kinear's getting useful information, and he's fairly sure Schiff, judging by how pleased he looks, is on the verge of getting a fourth colony, which isn't a bad tally for one night. Let alone one night without a single shot fired.

This is certainly, from the feel of it, moving him and his interests in the right direction, and at least mentally that feels good, it's just… hard and tiring and he knows he's not good at it. This may be a 'relaxed' setting for the diplomat types around him, but it's not for him.

Actually, it feels a lot like trying to learn pretty much any new skill he wasn't naturally talented at. Worse, it feels like having to demonstrate a new skill he's not particularly talented at, with a lot of people scrutinizing his every move.

He wonders how this would feel if he knew he had Rey keeping her eyes on her back, watching the way people watch him… Defending him the way Ellie is Kinear.

It'd likely be easier. At least he could keep up appearances and both of them could be snarking away in each other's heads about what's going on, so more amusing. And, he'll admit, he wouldn't, at all, mind seeing her dressed up for something like this. Hell, if she was going to be at one of these things, he might as well see about adding some music. If he's going to make himself a liar, he might as well make her one, too.

It's a pretty fantasy, him, her, both of them dressed up, mingling, dancing. Playing the game with words and looks, instead of blasters and fighters… But it's a fantasy. He doesn't enjoy the game, and he can't really imagine she would, too.

He wonders how many of these things his father sat through before he gave up. He can remember him almost shouting, that hushed tone he'd use when he wanted to yell, but he knew his son was a horrible sleeper and didn't want to wake him up. (He always woke up as soon as he felt the fight start, long before words, at any volume, were ever spoken.) "If you wanted a prince, your worship, you should have married one. Gutter trash and scoundrels aren't made for fancy parties!"

"No one expects you to be a prince!"

"You do! You expect me to know which of the fourteen forks to use, and not to drink too much, and not to be impolite, and not to tell a good joke, or laugh if someone else has enough balls to tell one."

"Han…"

"No! Find a trained pony to take to these things, you'll be less disappointed, and I'll be less frustrated."

This really shouldn't be this hard.

He could have taken apart twenty of his training droids with his bare hands and not been this tired.

Quick check of the chronometer, four hours have gone by.

Jon sidles over to him, another cup of coffee in hand. Kylo eyes it when he takes it, but doesn't drink it. He'll be jittery the rest of the night if he does.

"You okay?" Jon asks, looking at the people around them, eyes warm, face open and pleasant. He's been happily slipping through this crowd, keeping up what looks like effortless conversation, and from everything Kylo can feel, genuinely enjoying this.

"How obviously am I lying if I say, yes?" he replies through the fakest smile of the night.

"Enough."

"Why is this so hard?"

Jon's expression is kind. "Because you're the only person in this room who didn't train in it from shortly after birth? My mother met my dad when he was training to be an officer. The Empire wouldn't confirm a promotion to the rank of Major or higher unless you knew how to 'behave in public.' They actually had practice parties and dances so they could learn how to properly do things like this. You've never done anything like that, right? That's what learning languages and floating things meant?"

"Yes."

"Well…" Jon looks around them. "Decorum, small talk, being effortlessly interesting and interested, charm, all of these are learned skills."

That's actually comforting.

"You can probably skip out in another hour."

That's significantly more comforting.

Schiff joins him half an hour later, the grin on his face is so wide it's dwarfing his other features. "Nine," he says. No other comment or explanation. Just "Nine," and a massive grin.

He doesn't need to say more. Kylo nods at him, and smiles back. Probably the least fake smile of the night.

Compared to what he'd have to do to get nine colonies any other way… Yeah, this is tiring and painful, but it's not a full out war. A little flare of hope sparks. Maybe Rey'll join him at these things if he explains they literally save lives…

Lay it out like that… Like… It's a battle, both of them, back to back, defending each other against… uh… vaguely worded double-entendres, staking out the future of the Order… She might go for that.

Maybe.

Thinking of the battle he avoids by doing this brings to mind the battles he may be setting up. Then the real smile spreads over his face. Nine. He's got nine new colonies that are going to change alliance, and once they do, they're going to need someone to protect them. And unlike standing around with a tiny cup of coffee in his hand, talking to strangers about odds and ends, he's beyond capable and competent there.

He's still counting the minutes until he can leave, though. Just in a somewhat more positive mood as he does it.

Done. Finally.

Part of him wants to immediately strip off the second he's in his room. Get out of these clothes, get back to himself, and then shift home and cuddle up against his wife. Done for the night.

But he knows he's not done for the night, not yet.

He closes his eyes, letting himself just be for a moment. He's not sure if he's called her, or if she just knows to come, but he feels the glow before he opens his eyes and sees it. "Comments?"

"It looks good." Leia looks him up and down.

"Kinear called me Prince Ben of Alderaan today."

"You could have been."

"No. You made sure of that long before I knew it was an option."

She half shrugs. Dropping her, and his, claim to the throne brought her a somewhat easier political situation. "Being Princess Leia was never good for much but irking your father."

"I'm not talking about the title. Even if I had it, it'd be useless to me, because you didn't teach me how to be Prince Ben. You built alliances all throughout the galaxy, talked men out of fortunes to support you, got people to literally die for you, and you taught me how to do none of it. You didn't think I'd need those skills?"

She's staring out at the skies beyond him right now, seeing… He doesn't know. A million failed attempts at fixing the galaxy, maybe. Or a horde of dead friends. Her eyes slip back to him. "I fervently hoped you wouldn't. I was trying to make sure you'd be an adult in a galaxy where you wouldn't have to convince people to die for you. This isn't… fun."

"Trying to do it without ever having learned how to do it makes it even less so," he says through gritted teeth, and begins to strip off his Emperor-wear. "Who the hell was Ben supposed to be? I'm not trained for this. Kenobi, your last hope," his voice is sharp as he says that, "knew how to do things like negotiate and be charming. I don't. Was Ben just a super-soldier for the New Republic? A hired blade?"

She stares at him as he pulls off the vest. "Maybe." She watches him move through his rooms. Body too big, not exactly graceful, the aura of power and Force that radiates off him like the heat of his skin. His size, the black clothing, the dark Force, all of it reminds her of one thing, the thing she always feared, since only a few moments after she felt the first spark of Ben's life, his dark spreading all through it. "Not Vader. Ben was supposed to be not Vader." She's rubbing her lips together, hard, her body, or at least the remembered glow of it, fighting hard to keep her words inside. "That… You told us about your grandfather. When you were little. 'Grandpa talks to me!' You only had one grandfather that could have done that, and… And he wouldn't. Not…" She's mirroring his lip roll back at him, or he's been mirroring hers for years. "Not… Like that. Not… after he changed. Someone… was out there, and he knew enough to… 'Grandpa says I should.' 'Grandpa says it's okay to…' yell, fight, hurt things… Just. No." She's shaking her head, staring at him, seeing another tall, dark man. A tall, dark man she never saw the face of, only the mask.

"I sent you to the only man in the entire universe who ever got your grandfather to act like a human being. I didn't think he could be turned. I told Luke not to go. Told him to run away. And I wasn't entirely sure he had been turned when you started to talk about Grandpa. His fucking ghost came back to wreak havoc on us. It wasn't enough…" She's looking up at him, eyes hot, temper sparking. He knows that look. He's aimed it at many people and a host of inanimate objects over the years. "He killed everyone in the universe who mattered to me in one second. All of them. My parents. My friends. My fiancée. All of them were on Alderaan, and they all died! He held me in place and made me watch them die. That he might have come back just to piss on the future and twist the knife further… I could believe that of him.

"So, no, I didn't care what Ben became as long as it wasn't him."

There likely was a time when that could have impressed Kylo. It he'd been hit with that as a teenager, it would have resonated, but… Now? She's at least a decade too late, now. "And that's why I couldn't go fly with Dad? You didn't want me to become Vader, who used to be Anakin Skywalker, who was once a Jedi, so you sent me off to become a Jedi. The most notorious Sith to ever walk the damn galaxy, the man who was the definition of failed Jedi training, who you were afraid I was going to emulate, and you sent me to… follow his footsteps exactly? Get trained by someone who was too attached and didn't know how to do the job properly? Everyone says you're better at planning than that. I've never really been sure, because from my seat it looks like most of the battles you won, General, you won because the Force loves a stupid bloody fool with too much cause and not enough common sense!"

She's glaring up at him. "I've done the best I could with what I had, which was never enough. Give me a fleet, and I'll plan a battle that'd make your head spin."

"You had one, and I destroyed it! I outfought you in every battle we went up against each other, except the last one." That bursts out of him before he can stop it. That's not where he wanted to go with this. So he pulls back and redirects. "You'd always do that with Dad, too. He'd get you with a real point and an insult, and you'd go for the insult."

"The real point was meaningless. You had too much Force talent not to train!"

"You didn't."

"Please. I never had—"

"I was there, remember! I watched the missiles fly past my ship and blow your command into bits. Everyone else on the bridge died. Their corpses gored by myriad shards of shrapnel. But… you didn't. What magic could have possibly accounted for that? Somehow every piece of exploding ship missed your body, you got hurtled into the abyss of space, depressurized, flash frozen, and then, magically, got back into the ship, without depressurizing the whole thing, and instead of every cell of your body ripped to shreds from the ice crystals, you just got better, in less than two days. That's not how normal people live. All of the normal people on that bridge died!"

She's glaring at him, and he's glaring back, just as hard.

"What was Ben supposed to be? Don't… give me this shit about not Vader. If you'd wanted not Vader…" His eye is twitching and his lip trembling. "You could have come home, or taken me with you. You could have kept me near, and taught me to be a senator or something. You could have trained me to be a General. I've obviously got an aptitude for breaking shit and killing people! Or let me stay with Dad. Let me learn to be a pilot. The Force knows you've had use for them over the years!"

He sneers, feeling the disgust pouring off of him. "I captured your 'best pilot in the Resistance.' He loved you. General Organa, Leia, the substitute for the mom he lost. He was so proud to be picked for that mission. Apparently, he'd been flying for you for more than fifteen years at that point. Dark, wavy hair, dark eyes, he's too short, but you hadn't seen me in person in more than eight years, so there's no way you'd know how tall I'd gotten, a little older, but not that much. You grabbed a substitute, but that could have been me."

She's right up in front of him, glaring up at him. They never did this in real life, and Kylo's not sure if that's a good thing, or not. "And lost you? Just like everyone else I got too close to? Thirty-six of us got away from Crait. Over the last ten years, and you should fucking know because you killed half of them, I lost nine hundred and ninety-seven of every thousand of my troops."

"Yeah, well, stuffing me off into the middle of nowhere with Luke didn't exactly keep me, now did it? And if I'd been with you, or Dad, I'd likely have been on your side once you needed to start Resisting. Like I said to Dad, how much worse could it have been?"

He feels all of the lies and shields peel away from her, feels the force of her words, the emotional intensity, every ounce of the mourning she never allowed herself, bottled up for decades and distilled into the worst decision of her and his life. "You could be dead. What was Ben supposed to be? Alive. Ben was supposed to be alive! And if I had to hide him away and bury him under a ton of books in a backwater in the middle of nowhere, then that's where he'd be, alive! You are the only person I couldn't bear to bury. I gave birth to you. I felt your first breath against my skin. I felt it the instant you became… you… So… No. It just wasn't going to happen. You are the only thing in the universe that had to outlive me!"

Kylo feels that like a punch and an embrace all at once, and a long shuddering breath leaches from him.

Leia also releases, her own tension edging away.

For a moment, they're both quiet, feeling that revelation.

Then Leia says, "Luke said you liked reading and studying and… I always kept your poems." She taps the glowing memory of one of her rings. "I had one folded up in my ring. Wore it every day. For a while there, it looked like you might have had the makings of a scholar. You know we weren't supposed to send you presents. Luke didn't want the other kids to get jealous, but every book I could find on the Jedi, I sent to him for the library, because he said you liked reading them. If you could have been happy in a library, I would have been happy with you there.

"But every call. Every recorded letter. Every visit. That was another chance of someone finding you. When you were fourteen, things started heating up. The First Order was starting to really gather adherents and… We were fighting again. Half the fucking Republic was already getting coy trying to play both sides of the game, and too many of them didn't care if the First Order was bad news, as long as they were strong enough to keep the border regions secure and… That's why I didn't visit in person after you were fifteen. I knew they were watching me. I couldn't find the track they had on me, but I could feel it.

"Snoke wasn't just hiding in the back of your head. I know he got to me, and I think he got to Luke, because that's the only answer that makes sense, and… And he wasn't going to track me to you."

Kylo blinks. "You think he got to Luke?" That's… just… Luke? The Jedi Master? Luke who is still a thousand times bigger than real life to him. Luke who is still his ideal of Jedi power.

Leia nods. "The man who could see the good in Vader, after twenty minutes with him, twenty minutes fighting for his life against him, not just sees it, but believes in it so intensely that he could turn him, attacks his nephew, who he's been raising for more than a decade, in his sleep, based on a premonition. Really? No! That did not happen. Not Luke. Not just as himself. That's why he cut himself off from the Force. If Snoke could manipulate him to do that… He closed himself off to make sure it couldn't happen again."

Kylo doesn't know what to do with that. It… fits.

"He was there, clawing his way through your mind and ours and… He was there, hiding, shifting things. I hoped Luke could hide you. I hoped he could protect you. I hoped he could teach you to protect yourself. Nowhere in the galaxy was far enough away to set you out of his reach so… I gave you to the person most able to shield you."

"It wasn't enough."

"I know!" She spits at him, voice ragged. "Like you said, I was there; I remember. But you are still alive! And I wouldn't have picked this path for you, but you've got a path to walk, and for almost everyone who fought for me, that's not true. You looked at Poe and saw a surrogate son…" She shakes her head, an inelegant snort falling from her lips. "If that'd been true, he'd have never set foot near anything even vaguely dangerous. Your father was an adult, so I couldn't make him hide, and I couldn't turn him into a diplomat, so I had to live with him in dangers, but I got you and Luke out of danger, and in the end that's the only fucking battle I ever won, so I'm not going to feel bad for it."

And he doesn't know what to say to that. For a good long minute they're both staring at each other, and he's finally seeing her, really her, and how much Han was right when he said he was a mirror, and how wrong.

But he's not a mirror of Leia's light. Whatever light he has is his own, or maybe Rey's, or... He can feel the understanding opening. He's the mirror of Vader's light. His love, if love is the word for it, for his son, his family, let him make the decision that broke him from Palpatine. Vader's love was his salvation, and he knows that's what's pulled him from the path of destruction to a path of construction.

He's the mirror of Leia's dark. Of her need for more, of her constant, unending dedication to fighting that which is for the sake of that what could be, her unending want and attachment to a better galaxy, of the anger that kept her going, day after day after day, after she lost everything that mattered to her, of the fear that made her hide him away, of the shields and sarcasm she used to keep people from knowing the her under the image. He's her mirror all right, but not, at all, of anything light.

"You never trained because you knew you'd fail. You couldn't not want."

She half shrugs. "I knew I was better suited to politics than piety."

"Better suited to changing the galaxy than accepting it."

She inclines her head at that. "Dream the impossible dream. You probably won't get it, but you can move things closer to it."

He holds his hands out, gesturing not just to himself, but everything around him. "Is this not closer?"

"It is."

"And could you not see this coming? I know you have at least some prescience. Both you and Luke spoke of it."

"I could see it, some of it, at least. Toward the end."

His lips rub together, hard, and pulls his hand through his hair. "Then why did you leave? Was it not blatantly clear I need all the fucking help I can get?"

"I'm still here. Just ask."

His gaze is withering. "Be a diplomat for me? Oh, wait, you're too fucking dead for that. Talk people into joining my side? Too fucking dead for that, too. Find me allies? Too fucking dead! Use you're thirty million contacts across the entire galaxy to watch my back? Too fucking dead! I don't need a ghost. I didn't need holovids, or letters, or… I needed…" he can't make himself say it. His voice won't hold and the words won't form. He never needed her at arm's length, or the image of her, or just her voice. He needed his mom, near him, he needed hugs, and to be petted, and to have regular, actual, physical contact with her. He turns away from her, looking out to the tear-blurred stars.

He sees her reflection behind him, and the look in her eyes. He's seen it in his own, and he can feel it, not sure if the sentiment is hers or his, but she's the one who puts words to it. "The worst pain in the galaxy is needing someone to be something they can't be, isn't it, Ben."

He inhales deeply, and exhales, long and slow, then turns to face her, "Apparently, Mom." He's so tired. Done. Ready to just collapse into bed, and with any luck, with Rey wrapped around him.

Leia's not done, yet. She can't be what he needs, but she can be useful, on one level or another. "Jon's trustworthy. Keep him close, listen to him, and raise him up as high as he can go. Use him to find others like him. Kinear and Schiff aren't. As long as you're going the way they want to go, they'll get you there. The moment you aren't, they'll put a knife in your back. Find more men like Jon, and watch Kinear and Schiff."

He rolls his eyes. "I knew that."

"It's good to have confirmation though, isn't it?"

He nods, a little. "It is."

"I can't get you my contacts, not any longer, but… If you can get him to work with you, Threepio knows all of them. He knows who to talk to, when, about what, and how. Most of what I did over the years, diplomatically, I was able to do because I had an extremely well-versed protocol droid next to me."

"Wonderful. Did I blow his circuits five times before I was talking, or only four? Even when I was a child, he didn't want to be in the same room with me, so these days, I figure he'll be up to working with me shortly after the galaxy burns out."

Leia doesn't tell him he's wrong. Not exactly. "It's easy to get paranoid this high up, and it's easy to lay too much trust on people who are useful."

He sighs. "Which is more dangerous?"

"Trust is dangerous to you, paranoia is dangerous to everyone else, but eventually comes back around to you. You get to pick your poison, though, in my experience trust brings out the best in people. It's a gift that, especially when you can match it with the ability to tell who's worth trusting, pays good dividends."

He blinks, tucking that away. Then he nods at her, once, and pulls himself to his cottage on Lirium, where Rey is, because he's had every possible thing he can take for one day, and he's done.

Notes:

I'm not going back on Jon being interested in men. (I probably don't have to spell this out here, but on the off chance some of you are confused...) In the tradition of Capt. Jack Harkness, Jon is interested in pretty much anything and everyone. In a universe of near infinite possibilities, Jon's been enthusiastically enjoying the options.

Does this matter to the plot? Eh? Maybe, a little, eventually? Mostly it's just rounding out his character.