12/25/1

Jon does not, in fact, whimper, when Kylo, too bright and too early tells him that he wants to get rid of the throne.

Granted, he doesn't so much tell Jon, as Jon is in the throne room, triple checking his design against the physical layout of the room, when he notices four men, who this time last year would have been in Stormtrooper gear, but are now, like anyone else not actively fighting, in cloth uniforms that allow their faces to be seen, and have their names on their right arms, manhandle the throne out of Kylo's… what is rapidly becoming not a throne room, lifting the throne, putting it on a hovcart and— "Whoa! Stop that! What are you doing?"

"Getting rid of the throne. We've got orders." The… he assumes team leader, though they all appear to have the same rank, says.

Jon's eyes are bugging out of his head. The throne is the central focus of the room. It's the piece pulling all of this together. It's where everyone will circle and mingle and his very carefully designed schematic to make sure that the maximum number of people who matter, who may want to ally themselves with the Order, or take advantage of any services it offers, get to see, literally see the man who runs this thing, without having to put said man through yet another round of a receiving line, the last one of which he went through looking like he'd have more fun in the medbay having one of the droids extracting impacted toenails, and some fucking dingbat has ordered the throne removed?

He can already feel everything in his head tense up and start to whimper.

"Whose orders?"

Because he's an officer, and an annoyed one, and these are, based on the numbers on their name tags, Hux-method grads, they don't disrespect him, but the confusion of having one officer being annoyed at the orders of another one is clearly painful to them.

"Captain Rennik, in physical plant, gave us this job." FN-9483 replies.

"Here, sir." QR-9987 hands over a chit, and Jon inserts it into his datapad, and there it is, a work order.

Jon reads it, and scowls, the fucking thing is not only in order, but C8's name is on it, so it can have only come from one place. The fucking dingbat in question is apparently Ren himself. He shoves the order back at QR, while muttering under his breath about inconsiderate divas, and turning to storm toward Kylo's office.

He knows the code on the door and puts it in, waits a second for it to open, and then marches straight in.

Ren looks up from his meeting with… Jon doesn't know or care. "Out!"

The men he's meeting with, none of them with a rank below General all bristle at a mere Lt. Colonel attempting to order them around, but Jon doesn't care. "None of you are deaf, out, now!"

Ren raises an eyebrow, smirks, and nods. "Commanders, this can wait. I'll reconvene us soon."

Jon waits for the stunned commanders to clean up their gear and shuffle out of Kylo's office.

"You're upset," Kylo says, as soon as they're gone.

"No shit! You asked me to do the impossible, and I'm doing it. Then you piled more on me on top of that, and I'm doing that, too. Now you're fucking with my design so that I've got even more shit to do! Do I have a big sign on my ass that says 'kick me?' What the fuck would make you think getting rid of the throne less than a week before everyone in the galaxy who matters and could be convinced to come here arrives was a good plan? On top of that, what would make you think that tossing it without ask—consulting with me first is smart?"

Kylo's mouth opens and closes and he just blinks a few times before saying, "Shit. I'm… Sorry. The idea that it mattered never occurred to me."

"Well, it fucking does matter! You hate receiving lines, so I bent over backwards to set this up so you didn't have to go through one and that throne was the cornerstone of the plan. You could be there, they'd come to you, and instead of having to gladhand every asshole in the galaxy, you could keep some distance, but they could still see and maybe talk a little with you. What the fuck were you thinking?"

Kylo blinks again and then says, "That I'm not a king or an emperor or…"

Panic races down Jon's spine. He knows that Kylo's a bit nervous about this whole thing, but having to talk him off a ledge wasn't anything Jon thought he was signing up to do. But if he's got, to… "Kylo, shit, man, no! You are the Emperor. Now is not the time to be getting cold feet about this. You do not get to just flake out on me at the last minute…"

Kylo's gritting his teeth, and desperately wishing that Rey was here, because she'd likely be good at calming Jon down, and he's just not. And worse, Jon is upset, at him, flooding him with angry and frustrated and tense feelings, and they just feed into Kylo, making him feel upset, angry, and frustrated and he can literally feel it happening, Jon's dark feeding his, and he'll push those feelings back to Jon, and it's this horrible positive feedback cycle, and he's not sure how to shut it down, just that he needs to and—

And Jon's working on the pep talk of all pep talks, images of everything falling apart as Kylo runs off and vanishes to wherever it is he dwells with Rey, wondering if he's got to call in Kinear, and if this thing can be saved, and… "You can't just quit, Kylo! All of it depends—"

Kylo makes himself take a deep breath, makes his body stop the adrenaline that's spiking his heart rate, and making his fingers twitch, and tries to think of something calm, which isn't exactly his strong suit, but… in the bath, laying there, floating in the water. Okay, that helps some. At home, having dinner, curled up on the chair, reading, smelling Rey's hair… Calm… Quiet… One more breath, and another. Finally Kylo says, "I'm not quitting. I'm clarifying."

"Clarifying? Tossing out the throne is clarifying?" Jon doesn't have the level of emotional control Kylo does, because he's still in the midst of trying to not think about what the hell he's going to do if the Order falls apart, and "clarifying" is not doing it for him.

"Yes. We're getting rid of the throne," Kylo replies, and he feels like this is probably inappropriate, but he doesn't know how else to do this without ending up in a big, stupid fight, so he uses some mild voice compulsion to go with 'getting rid of the throne.' Not so much that Jon goes blank and stupid, but enough that he stops loathing the idea enough to listen to him. "You remember saying to me, 'Master, what's that? A teacher?"

Jon squints his eyes, thinking back. "Something like that."

"Well, yes, it is. And I'm going to teach the whole galaxy a new way to do this."

"Okay, Master." Jon scowls in the direction of the huge hole in the center of what had been a very carefully thought out décor scheme specifically designed for maximum visibility and traffic flow. "Care to tell me, the man who's supposed to be executing this stuff and making it happen, what's up?"

"Yes," Ren gestures to the table. "Do you want a drink or something?"

Jon normally doesn't drink on duty, but thinking about the ruins of his plan, he's game. "What do you have?"

"Coffee, water…" Kylo sees Jon slump, this is apparently not what he was thinking of as a drink. "Uh… C8?"

The droid, who had been impassively watching all of this says, "I can access any liquid on the rotation of the main kitchens."

Jon shakes his head. "The only thing I might want right now is a vodka."

"I can get that, too."

Jon sits, rubbing his temples. "Rye or wheat, not potato, really not orflan, double shot, -2 degrees, in a frozen glass." He looks at Kylo, who's blinking slightly at the idea of a vodka order that's that specific. "This better be good."

"I think it is." Ren's a few minutes into explaining his idea, the clarifying vision he had with Rey, and how his idea of a palace, and a Master is shifting, how he doesn't need the throne, doesn't need to project his power by being literally above everyone around him, or the only one in the room allowed to sit.

That kind of… theater… isn't good for the sort of mood, of people working together, that he wants to project. His power will come from people joining him, people working with him because they want to, and for that to happen he's got to be in and with and around people. How his seat of power will be a… board room for lack of a better term. How he'll trade value for value, work with the people who want him, and leave the others in the dust.

By the time he's done, Jon's shot back the vodka, loosened his collar, and developed something a bright flush to his cheeks.

C8, apparently having decided that this might be a conversation that flows better with alcohol, left the bottle, and Jon appears to be seriously debating another. He does pour some into a glass and slides it to Kylo, who eyes it, but doesn't drink any. He can tell by the smell that this is more alcohol than he wants before lunch, or at any other time of the day, unless it's diluted in a pitcher of something he actually likes the taste of.

"There's a saying on Coruscant, that only drunks and children are ever truly honest." Jon takes another shot, waiting a few breaths, feeling his brain and muscles loosening in response to the alcohol. "I'm too old to pass for a child, so here goes. You don't work a room well enough to do what you want to do with this.

"That's part of why the damn throne was smack dab in the middle of the room. It would give you something of a buffer. You hated being in the receiving line, and broke a man's hand doing it the first time. Now you're dropping a plan in my lap based entirely on your ability to make connections with strangers, while, at the same time, taking Rey, who is nervous about this to begin with, out in public, for the first time. Did I do something to piss you off? Seriously, why would you do this to me?"

With the alcohol in his system, Jon's control is lower, and his emotions are sloshing all over the place, so Kylo can feel he's distressed about this, but not just this. Sussing out the extra layer of what's going on with Jon helps.

"Your mother gets here tomorrow, doesn't she?"

"Shit, don't remind me." He rubs his forehead. "As soon as she sees that hole in the center of the room, she'll be on me, lecturing me about how to design a proper party and acting like I'm the idiot who never learned the first lesson of keeping a crowd moving."

"Ah…" Mortal terror at failure in front of a disappointed parent. Kylo can certainly understand that. "If you tell her it's my idea?"

"She'll smack me upside the back of the head. A good wedding planner will often have a difficult bride, and a worse mother of the bride, and it's the planner's job to not just make sure that everything is perfect, but to also make sure that everyone on the bride's side thinks they got what they wanted, especially if what they actually wanted was a terrible idea."

That's more insight into what Jon thinks he's doing than Kylo had ever imagined, and he's not entirely sure how well that speaks of him as the 'bride,' but... Later, that's for later.

"Is what I want a terrible idea?"

Jon stares at Kylo, and sags a little in his seat. Then he looks at the bottle, but doesn't take another drink. "Long term, no. And, yes, I'm familiar with the idea of start as you intend to go. And yes, I know this is your first, real exposure to the parts of the galaxy that matter. Last year they either didn't come or sent their backup players. So," he grits his teeth, "doing it now isn't insane, but…

"Kylo, five hundred people will be at this reception."

Kylo blinks. "Weren't there two thousand last year?"

"Yes, but only one hundred and fifty of them got to meet you, on top of that, these people matter. When they give reports, their leaders will listen. There'll be more than ten thousand at the different later festivities and speech, but these are the ones we really want to see you and get the idea that they want and need to work with you. Can you actually stand for that long, in a receiving line, making polite conversation, gentlyshaking hands, and being pleasant, without projecting to anyone, not everyone, but anyone, nearby that you're only doing it because someone is holding you at blaster point?"

Kylo takes the time to really think about that. And he's not exactly enjoying the idea of it, but… It's getting better. Rey will be there, and this is starting to shape things into the Order of the Maji, shape them into where he's really supposed to go, so… "It's important, right?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll do it."

Jon slumps against his chair. "I still have to reorganize the layout and traffic flow. A receiving line takes care of one of the problems and opens more of them."

"I'm sorry." Kylo pulls off his glove and gently takes Jon's hand in his. Then he focuses on the image of what he'd seen talking with Rey. He lets it seep into Jon's mind.

Jon shuts his eyes and nods, resigned. It looks like a good goal. He likes it, but… now? "Maybe, next time you could hold on the major regime-shifting epiphanies until after the massive party everyone and their cousin is coming to?"

Kylo snorts a laugh at that. "If the Force ever deigns to care about holding out on the epiphanies for convenient times, I will, too."

Jon doesn't glare, but the snark is very sharp in his gaze. "So, that's how it's going to be? You toss something insane on me and it's the Force?"

"I could blame it on Rey. Or you. Apparently, you two got nattering with each other, and next thing I know I've got a costume and am wandering about with a bag of popcorn having epiphanies."

Jon snerks at that, then rolls his eyes. "Fine. How'd it go?"

Kylo smiles, a little. "Well, it was good for me. There were some very surprised officers out there."

"I'll bet. I caught a few whispers of it out and about, apparently people are shocked to see you do things like eat or walk around with a lady friend."

Kylo rolls his eyes at that. "Most people didn't notice me as anything other than the big guy next to Rey."

"Just the way you like it."

"I certainly didn't mind."

Jon sighs. "Plans like yours work significantly better when you genuinely enjoy people, you know?"

Kylo shrugs at that. "It feels right."

"What's Rey think about this?"

"She thinks it's moving in the right direction."

"Yeah, but does she have any idea what she's signing on to do to get it there?"

That makes Kylo feel cold. "I don't know."

"Great." One more sigh. "I should get going." Jon pushes himself up, overbalances, and ends up right back on his butt again.

"Alcohol hits you hard, doesn't it?"

"It does when I'm working on six doses of stim and five hours of sleep in two days."

Kylo hadn't realized Jon was stretched that thin on this. He takes Jon's hand, pulls him up, and then wraps an arm around him, before walking him toward his room.

"Wrong direction."

"Your rooms are far away. Mine isn't. Get a nap. And then when you wake up, I'm introducing you to Ellie Kinear, and if I'm right, she'll be able to give you a hand you need."

"Ellie… Wait… Lady General Kinear?"

"Yes. And if I can get him here, the droid I was telling you about."

Jon rolls his eyes, but lets Kylo walk him to his bed, and deposits him there. "At least three hours sleeping, five is better. Rest."

Another eye roll followed by, "Yes, sir."

Getting Ellie Kinear on board for this took about half an hour of research on C8's part, locating Ellie Kinear, another hour of waiting for her, and then forty-five seconds of explanation, and a tiny bit of puppy eyes from Kylo.

Apparently, back in the day, she used to do a lot of this sort of thing, because back in the day, getting from being a mid-level officer to a top level officer took a lot more than just being good at your job. Back in the day, both Kinears were working very hard at getting Captain Kinear to Major, to Lt. Colonel, to Colonel, to General.

And while Pat took care of combat maneuvers, and fighting on actual battlefields, Ellie had his back, playing the political game, and making sure the right people knew what her husband was up to, and took a vivid interest in him.

And, on top of that, she's tutting at the idea of 'that poor thing' (Jon, Kylo assumes) working himself 'half to death' because he doesn't have the right people to delegate to. (He's got the sense that as of ten minutes from now, a small brigade of women, all with gray hair and sharp eyes, are going to descend on wherever it is they like to meet up, and start getting this under control.)

(What Jon's going to think of this, Kylo doesn't know, but he's getting the other side of the game into play, so he doesn't spend too long contemplating it.)

Getting Threepio into the mix… That's a trickier subject.

Part of it is he's not entirely sure parties are Threepio's thing. But… okay. Kylo's not much for working a room. He doesn't really enjoy mingling with strangers. Pleasant, vapid conversation isn't his strong suit.

Fine, all of that's true.

But, just possibly, if he could talk a droid who likely knows everyone coming to this thing, or who they represent, into providing a quick paragraph or something on each of them, so he's not exactly jumping naked into the abyss, that could be a good thing.

If…

Rey's a billion kilometers away, at least, as Kylo's dithering about starting this, but apparently it's enough of a shadow on his mind that she feels it.

You want me to talk to him?

That's an idea that hadn't occurred to him. Maybe, he, personally, doesn't have to do this. Do you have time?

In an hour or so.

Do you want to? he asks.

There's quiet on Rey's end of the connection for a few moments, followed by… I think I should.

He focuses on her, getting a feel for what's in her mind, and the sense that this isn't exactly comfortable, but if doing this matters, if they're moving forward together, then she should be helping. It's a bright and steady light in her mind right now, and he flushes at it, feeling warm and happy all over.

A moment later, he feels her smile.

I've got the teacher programs. He thinks to her. They'll be uploaded into whatever droid body you think will work best.

Something with more mobility that Threepio has.

Kylo nods, and then feels silly, because he's sitting at his desk, alone, holding a few teacher program disks. Yes. He's not built for mud.

She's standing next to him, hand resting on his shoulder, as she bends and kisses his forehead head. "Or snow. Give me the programs. Let's see if any of them pass muster."

"I hope." He hands the disks over, giving her a bit of a squeeze.

She squeezes his hand. "Okay, I've got to get back."

"What are you doing?"

"Well, someone taught a few of them to make cookies, and now all of them want to learn how to bake, so we're learning how to do that. When I left, we were just measuring out all of the dry ingredients. Last time we measured according to the recipe. This time we're all doing it slightly differently, and we're going to see how it works out."

Kylo smiles up at her, and she kisses his smile before porting back to the group kitchen.

Threepio eyes the disks in his hand. Then he looks to Rey. "No bodies?"

"Not yet. We're not entirely sure what the best setup would be."

"In my opinion, children learn best with a teacher who looks at least vaguely like them."

"Some sort of bipedal, at least somewhat humanoid droid with a face?"

"Yes." He glances out of his window. What used to be kilometers of stubbly, wet, windblown brown are now white. And with the white/gray clouds pouring down more snow, the view outside his window is more nothing than anyone who's never seen Hoth could imagine. "Preferably something that handles snow better than I do."

"And mud. Kylo's got training droids that move like humans. We might go with one of them. There's nothing on this planet they can't move around or through."

"Ah." Threepio says, again looking at the disks. "So, is he not here because he can't be bothered, or because he thinks you talking to me works better?"

"I thought me talking to you might work better," Rey says. "Am I wrong?"

Threepio can't shrug, but he can tilt his head in a way that suggests a shrug. "It's a bizarre sensation. I cannot, at this time, find a fault in what Master Ren is attempting to do. Rationally, his plans for The Order are fine, possibly laudable even. But I still… hate," she's never heard that much fire in Threepio's voice, "what he did to people I adored. I… feel afraid at the idea of him too close to me. He's fried my sensors before, and while I am not human, nor can I physically feel, everything going black and silent is terrifying."

Rey nods. "If you don't want to. You don't have to. No one's forcing anyone to join or work with the Order."

"I know. But that would be the point. That was the point of what we fought for. The idea that people get to decide for themselves. That no one should ever be enslaved or conquered… And… If I do not work toward that because I have a bad history with the person doing it, what does that say about me?"

Rey half-smiles. "That you're human?"

"We're I to be human, I'd prefer to not be emulating your weaknesses."

Rey shrugs at that. "I'd imagine a lot of us would rather be more rational about things like this, too. You've always got a home here, and you can teach, or not, as you see fit."

"Or…" Threepio says. "You're here with these disk now because there's an 'or' waiting."

"Or… The First Year celebration is up, and more than five hundred people will be coming for a close gathering, and Kylo's sure you know all of them, or who they report to, and a bit of intel on all of them would be worth its weight in gold."

"Ah…" Threepio sounds non-comittal, but Rey can… feel, though she supposes she shouldn't be able to, not on something that isn't alive… though… Unifying Force is supposed to be in and of and through all things, not just living things, so… She shoves that aside for later contemplation. A good question to open up to her students.

Anyway, it's clear that being useful and useful in the way he was designed to be, is sparking some interest for Threepio. It's been almost a year since he's had any diplomatic work, and the chance to do it is something he desires.

He takes the disks. "I still want to meet the man I'm supposed to work with."

Rey nods. "Feel like taking a trip?"

"Where?"

"To the Supremacy to meet him."

Threepio can't take a calming, deep breath. He can't take a moment to physically steel himself for something. None of those are available to him, but Rey would absolutely tell you that's what he did.

"Yes."

"Good. This evening?"

Threepio nods. "This evening."

Jon wakes up with his head muzzy and his mouth tasting brown. He blinks a few times, steeling himself for sitting up, but once he does the expected headache and wave of nausea don't hit. He's not hungover, just tired.

"You're up, good."

He blinks and jerks a little, looking at the little, old woman with the white hair and very blue eyes sitting at the table, a collection of… from the looks of it, his plans, all around her. He blinks again, wanting to rub his eyes, half afraid that he must look a sight, and partially horrified to see someone else going through his rough drafts.

She nods at him. "This is good work. You certainly know what you're doing with this." Then she sighs. "But just because you know what you're doing doesn't mean the people you work for do." Her smile is gentle, and she stands up, walking, slowly, with a little shuffle to her step, to the side of Kylo's bed. "I'm Ellie Kinear, and apparently Kylo finally decided that you needed help."

Jon blinks one last time, and then says, "You call him Kylo?"

Ellie grins. "One of the wonderful things about being an old woman, and I'll tell you, wonderful things about being old are few and far between, is that I get to pretty much do whatever I like, including calling, in private, the Master by his first name."

Jon nods. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, stop that. Call me Ellie. We're on the same team in this game, so let's get to work. Take a few minutes, wake up for real, and then let's get to it. Our boy just ripped a hole in the middle of your plan, and we've got to rebuild it."

Jon rubs his face, and then gets up, heading for the refresher, devoutly hoping that when they redid the soundproofing between Kylo's room and office, they also made sure the soundproofing between the refresher and the room were good, and then, in a few moments, gets himself ready to work.

When he returns to the table, he sees his plans, his layouts, his sketches, and a jug of some sort of tea, a collection of sandwiches, and a bowl of fruit. "Eat. Food always helps the brain think."

He takes one of the sandwiches, and begins to chew. His body is telling him it's got to be close to evening, and a glance at the chronometer shows him he's close to right. Which means he hasn't fed himself since breakfast.

Ellie's looking at his final draft. "I see drapes. I see food and drinks. I see places for people to mingle in the open, and little nooks to mingle privately. I assume you have them wired for sound?"

He nods, chewing. "Of course."

"Good boy. Video?" Her eyes are sharp as they flit about from detail to detail of his schematic for the party.

"Every angle." Which isn't strictly true. He did leave a few blind corners for himself. He's also sure that no one else needs to know that or what he hopes to get up to in them. Never let it be said that Jon Frakes didn't know how to party when a party presented itself, let alone one he designed the floor plan for.

"Even better. Do you have spies in place?"

"Not my department. I'm not even sure who to give the feed to, just sure that we need it."

"Okay." She smiles at him, and he can see that under her little old lady exterior there's a spine of steal and a will to match. "So you've got all the basics covered. What's the food?"

"Nibbles. Little things that are easy to eat with your fingers, won't drip, or spatter, and just a touch saltier than they need to be to encourage people to drink."

"Someone trained you well." She pauses for a moment, looking at him, really looking, and then says, "Frakes."

Jon nods. "Yes. And yes, she is."

Ellie's lips curl into an amused smile. "Someone indeed. I haven't seen your mum in… it's got to be getting onto thirty-six years now."

"Were you a client of hers?"

The flavor of Ellie's smile changes, it's almost bashful, but he can see some sort of calculation under it. "I never rose that high. But I knew women who were, and I was often… around… when your mum was."

"Being… helpful?"

Ellie smiles at that, too. "A well-connected bride often has a good friend around to provide an extra set of eyes, or opinions, and sometimes, a high lady of great status, but maybe not a bride," Jon takes that to mean that she was one of the hand-matrons of the Emperor's Mistress, "needs a friend who's just a hair outside of the ins and outs of court politics to keep an eye on her interests."

"Ah." Jon knows what happened to three of the four of the Emperor's Mistresses, and the fourth one died on the second Death Star.

He's got a serious look on his face, and Ellie pokes him with her elbow, a huge grin on her face. "None of that, Lad. Selina Beau and I went way, way back. If she'd been a boy, my parents would have tried to make a marriage with her instead of Pat, but she wasn't, and in time Palpatine laid eyes on her, and the rest was history. Until, of course, he laid eyes on someone else."

Selina Beau was the third of four. And, if memory serves, when she fell from grace, she 'vanished' along with most of her favorites. Judging by the look on Ellie's face, Beau probably survived her fall from favor. "And… that was the last time you saw my mum?"

"It seemed a politic time to get off of Coruscant and join Pat at his command."

Jon can imagine that being an intimate of the Emperor's ex-mistress wasn't a good thing to be when the new-mistress was setting up her court.

Ellie taps his schematic. "You've got eight different drink stations, eight for food, set so traffic can flow through the room, moving from one to the next without any back-ups."

"Serving droids will be circling with drinks and nibbles, too."

"Good." She taps the middle. "And that's where the would-be Emperor Ren should be sitting, the star this solar system is supposed to be orbiting around, except we can't exactly convince him to be an Emperor, so now we've got to rebuild."

"In a nutshell." He nods to the doorway. "I can plant him here, keep him and Rey, and you and the General, and likely Admiral Schiff and his wife here, greet people as they enter. Dinner's on the Finalizer, so if I keep people moving in slowly enough, you six can run the door, and then when the last one is in, we'll give it half an hour, so everyone gets drinking and mingling time, and then we'll dock the Finalizer, seal it tight, open the airlock, and then move people to the dining room. Dinnertime, we're cruising around, with a view of the Supremacy and the ships around her, which will be doing maneuvers, and then from there, at the end of the night, we'll re-dock at the main loading bay, and escort people to their rooms."

"So, you've got ninety percent of this set."

"Yeah, I've just got to keep them from forming a clot around the receiving line."

"Food and drink helps."

"It certainly does, but… If he'd been in the middle, there'd be a reason to draw people further into the room."

Ellie nods. She looks at the sketch. "No flowers?"

Jon rubs his forehead. "No silk ones on hand, and real ones are frightfully expensive in space, and we've got to get everything else ready for everyone to stay here, so…"

"So you've budgeted every credit you could, and then some, and you can't take another expense."

"Exactly."

Ellie looks around Kylo's room. Black, everything is black, then she thinks about what Kylo wore to the last of these. "Did you pay for Kylo's clothing?"

"No. I made it, and most of the fabric was donated."

"And his lady's?"

"Same."

She looks out to the stars around them. "I have three florists, and I'm sure your mother has at least three more, all of whom would likely be willing to donate an installation as long as they could put their mark on it. Last minute notice isn't ideal, but," she taps the center of the room, along with all four corners. "If we have a fountain in the center, along with water flowers, and then smaller installation in the corners, that will give people something to look at and gather around."

Jon nods. "That would, but I'm not kidding about money being tight. I can afford to pay basically nothing for this. I can likely grab people to pick them up, so they don't have the cost of delivery, but that's it."

"Let me take care of that. You just print up some extra tickets to this do and make sure some nice rooms are ready. We have more of them than we need, correct?"

He nods. "That we've got. We've got quarters for 800,000 on the F deck alone, and nowhere near that many officers. Getting an extra dozen rooms into play won't be difficult."

"Do it. I'll make sure we've got something interesting to look at."

"Thank you!" Jon looks, and is starting to feel, a bit relieved.

Ellie sits back, and says to Jon, "If what Pat's telling me is true, this isn't exactly your job, is it?"

Jon shrugs. "It is today."

"Okay. You know the Emperor had a mistress; do you know what she did?"

Jon smirks a little.

"Beyond that." Ellie says, voice sharp.

"No."

"Her job, her full time, every day, job, was making sure anything the Emperor touched looked right. It was a full time job that involved a full time staff. She had more than eighty people who did nothing but keep everything looking right. It wasn't something flogged off onto someone who had fifty other things on his plate. It's a million little things, and when it's done wrong, it's garishly visible, and everyone notices and talks. When it's done right, it's practically invisible. The idea that someone does all of this is not apparent to most people. That said, you either need to find someone to delegate this to, or find someone to take the rest of your jobs, because everything he's got you trying to do is too much."

Jon sighs. "I know."

"Tell me about his Lady. I haven't met her, yet. Is this the sort of thing she could do?"

Jon doesn't laugh. "Tell me, Lady Kinear, do you have any interest in a job like this?"

"That bad?" Ellie says.

"I'd sooner put him in charge of decorating this stuff. I have the feeling that he's, at least once, seen what this sort of thing should look like."

Ellie doesn't wince. Intentionally. "How much help is she going to need?"

"A lot."

"No mother?"

"No. Orphaned at a young age."

"Is she pretty? Pretty enough will get a woman a lot of forgiveness."

Jon shrugs. "She's physically very attractive, has a good smile and a warm personality, but skittish and worried about making Kylo look bad. She'll look amazing in the dress we're making, assuming she doesn't get overwhelmed by all of it and crumple into a crying ball."

"Ah… Well… It wouldn't be the first time a skittish bride had be to coaxed into shining."

Jon smirks at that. "No, but it might be the first time said bride was dangerous enough to have carved a scar into her man's face as… I don't know why she did it… An introduction or something. Neither of them has been willing to tell me the full story of how they met, yet."

Ellie blinks at that. The idea that Kylo's woman would be a warrior as well shouldn't be a surprise to her. The idea that she's the one who put that scar on his face is... intriguing. What they can do with that... "Oh my. Well… Flowers…" She smiles brightly. "Yes, lots of flowers. Many rare and pretty flowers. Make sure we've got something beautiful, expensive, and succulent to attract attention."

Jon nods. "Yes, please."

Ellie pats his hand. "I'll go work on that. You go… get our bride ready for her grand reveal."

He sighs a little at that.

"And give your mum my regards."

"I will."

An hour later, Ellie Kinear will say to her husband, "Diplomats. Shake them down, find the ones who've scattered, beg, borrow, steal, or bribe them into play. He's a designer, likely a good one, but he's not a diplomat, and he needs help, a lot of it."

Pat nods. "Most of the ones I know have been retired for more than three decades."

"Shake the tree anyway. I will, too. If they're out of the game, they'll know who's in it. But this boy's on the verge of burnout and worse, being promoted way above what he can handle. He'll be a brilliant set of eyes for Kylo, and he's got the touch for making things look good, for seeing a bigger picture, but he's not the man to actually do the job."

"An architect, not a builder."

"Exactly. Find him some builders."

"Yes, dear." And Pat gives his wife a gentle kiss.

Kylo heads in after Ellie leaves, and says to Jon, who's sitting at his table, looking over his sketches, "Better?"

"Probably."

"Good. Rey and Threepio should be here, soon." Kylo sits next to him, rolling his neck a bit.

Jon nods, absently. "Kylo… I have a feeling that, you wanting to be an Emperor or not, Rey's going to be an Empress, with a court and… Uh… Does she have any idea what you're setting her up to do?"

Kylo winces again, this being the second time this has been pointed out to him. "Probably not." Because, among other things, Kylo also doesn't know. "But… No. She's the Mistress of the Maji, and doing that, and… if there's someone who holds court and… does stuff like that…" Because Kylo's beyond vague about what constitutes "stuff like that." "Could that be you?"

Jon blinks, very surprised at that. "Uh…"

"Look, you're good at it. It pretty much covers the sort of thing I need you to do anyway. I know Rey's got no interest in it, and… I mean, there's not a law saying my wife has to do these things, right?"

Jon shrugs, still reeling from this idea. "You make the laws, so… no?"

"So…"

Jon blinks and thinks his way through it. Traditionally the Empress, or Emperor's Mistress… Takes care of the look of things, entertains, makes sure everything facing the rest of the galaxy works smoothly, and… that's actually pretty close to what he's seeing as his job so… "I could do that."

"Good. Set up your court however you like it." Kylo's looking very relieved at the idea of being able to just dump this onto Jon, which even Jon can read off his face.

He's also sure that Kylo's got no idea how much power he's about to fob off onto him.

Another thought hits when that does. That power… there's a reason why it normally lies in the hands of the Emperor's mate. "They'll talk."

Kylo shrugs. "They talk anyway."

Jon stares at him. "Uh… not like this." He keeps staring at Kylo, willing the man to get it without him having to say it.

Kylo either doesn't get it, or isn't capable of getting it, or is just being a bastard and is going to make Jon say it, because he's sitting there looking stubbornly blank.

Jon sighs. "I was married to a man, Kylo. Stick me in this position and there'll be comments about the Master's Mistress, okay?"

Kylo thinks about that for a moment, blinks, and then shrugs. "Only by someone who's never seen me with Rey."

Jon sighs. "And my last friend was a lady. If they don't assume I'm your pet, they'll assume I'm her pet. Or that I belong to both of you."

Kylo thinks about that for a moment, too. Of all the things that have been said about him over the years, the idea that he may be sleeping with Jon is so low on the list of problematic ones, he can't bother to get fussed about it. "Would that bother you?"

Jon looks stunned. "Wouldn't it bother you?"

Kylo keeps thinking about it. "It doesn't appear to. I mean, I'm obviously playing favorites with you. You provide me with something I need, and I can trust you, and you aren't trying to kill me so you can take my place, so I'm raising you as far as I can as fast as you'll let me. If they talk about that, they're dead right. If they think I'm sleeping with you, well, they're obviously not terribly observant. Same for if they think you're sleeping with Rey, or both of us." He taps his fingers against the table top, and chews his lips. "You haven't really seen both of us together, at the same time, for any real stretch of time, yet."

Jon thinks about that, and comes to the conclusion that save for maybe a minute or two, he hasn't really. "No."

"Trust me, it's going to be abundantly clear that whatever use we have with you, it's not sexual, in about ten minutes after anyone sees us together. But, if they are blind, and they do gossip, will that bother you?"

Jon's turn to think. He half shrugs. "I'd prefer that people thought I got my position from working my ass off, not working it on you, but… You're right, they'll talk no matter what, and it's likely, because they know what I like, that some will spread nasty rumors no matter what." Then Jon stops as he thinks of whatever this new position is. "Kylo, what in the name of the Force do you think my rank is?"

"I have no idea. Hux always wanted to be a Grand Marshal. Something to cement the idea that he reported directly to Snoke into the heads of everyone else. And Threepio says the man who runs my diplomatic corps should be no lower than a Grand Marshal, so would you like that title?"

"Would anyone else have it?"

Kylo thinks about it for a moment. "Kinear and Schiff, eventually. My general, admiral, and…"

"Me."

"And my you. Ground forces, sky forces, diplomatic forces. That covers all the angles, right?"

Jon sniggers. "Sure, why not?" He stands up, gathering up his papers. "Do you have any idea how much power you're giving me with this?"

Kylo shrugs. "Do you think it matters to me?"

"I think it should."

"Then I'll try to care."

Jon figures that's about the best he can do with this. "So, if I'm doing this, what are you doing?"

"Being the Master. I write the play. You set the stage and make sure the other players are in place. Kinear and Schiff make sure no one else tries to direct or stop the damn thing."

"Sure. Why not? You said something about the droid and Rey?"

"Yes, they'll be here soon, and you can meet him."

"I can meet him? Not us?"

Kylo winces. "Uh… Threepio's not fond of me." He gets himself a glass of water and sits down on his bed, pulling off his gloves and unfastening his tunic. His day is pretty much done. He's just making sure this meeting goes smoothly from this side of things, and then he gets to go home to Rey. Which he really wants to do, because explaining why said droid isn't a fan of his is making his heart ache.

"Fond… It's a droid. How does fond ever come into play?"

"First of all, he's a fully sentient artificial life force. He's got a full range of emotions and a functional moral compass. Anything you can do or feel, he can, too. Second of all, everything that's happened in the last fifty years that mattered, he's been part of. He knows everyone and anyone who's been involved in the rise, fall, rise again, and fall again of the Rebellion and then Republic, and then Resistance."

Jon grits his teeth. "He's your mother's chief adviser, isn't he?"

"He was. And before that, he worked for her father, Bail Organa."

Jon sighs. "And he's going to take one look at me and decide I'm an Imperial and leave."

"I really hope not."

"He doesn't like you; why would he go for me?"

Kylo takes a long drink, pulls his hair out of its knot, and runs his fingers through it. "He's known me since before I was born, and… I was… volatile, as a child, with too much power and no control. I had a tendency to throw temper tantrums that shorted out the electronic equipment around me, and that included him."

Jon winces.

"And… he's my mother's adviser, and devoted servant, loved her unreservedly, and, well…" The look he gives Jon gets across the idea that he more or less broke his mother's heart when he joined the First Order. "And one of his other Masters, who he also loved beyond all reason, was Luke Skywalker."

"The Uncle you put a lightsaber through?"

"Or would have if he'd really been there. And apparently, Threepio was there and watched me do it, and just like me, he didn't know it wasn't Luke's actual body I was stabbing." Kylo swallows, hard. "And he didn't exactly love my Dad, but when I killed him, I didn't endear myself to him—"

"Wait!" Jon's eyes slowly close and then open again. "You…"

"It's a really long story."

Jon nods slowly, thinking about what he knows about Kylo's side of the war and his mother's side. The idea that his father would have been in the Resistance isn't a stretch. "I'd imagine. Is that part of the tension with your Mum?"

Kylo opens and closes his mouth, thinking about it, but… "It didn't help things, but… Actually, no our issues predate it and go past it…" That's clearly not enough for Jon. "It's one of those things that I don't think could have happened any other way. That's when and how Han Solo had to die, because anything else doesn't get us here, and here… matters."

Jon blinks slowly, and Kylo can feel him reassessing him, feel the nervousness, and the fear that had been easing away coming back to him. The man who would kill his father, even if said father was on the opposite side of the lines, is the man who may kill a friend, too.

"Jon… Things are different now. But… Now couldn't have happened without then. That was the absolute worst moment of my life, and I've had some awfully bad ones, but that was the moment that broke Snoke's hold on me. And without that… We'd still be the First Order, and… I'd be dead by now, I'm sure of that. Rey, too. Probably not Snoke. He and Hux would be off ruling whatever was left of the galaxy and… My mom had some level of prescience. I don't, not really, but I don't need it to see that. If Han Solo hadn't died there, if he hadn't come to me on Starkiller, the entire galaxy would be under the First Order, and Hux would be blowing up system for kicks and giggles, and Snoke would be the last Force power left, and…" And Kylo's seeing it, really seeing it, and seeing Han's eyes on his as he snuffed out his flame, feeling the sorrow, forgiveness, and hope. "And this had to happen."

Kylo looks down, at his cup, and blinks. "He was always good at swooping in and saving the day at the last minute. Doing whatever needed to be done to do it. He never laid the blow that saved things himself, but he shot down the fighters trailing Luke, and he took down the shield generator protecting the Death Star, and he… sacrificed himself so that I could be more than a monster."

Jon's not sure what to do with any of that. One day, he'll have the time to think about it, but now isn't it. So he tucks it away, and pats Kylo on the shoulder, and says, "Okay. Theepio doesn't like you. But he might work with me."

"I hope so. We're not doing anything he wouldn't be willing to support, so… If he can get over not liking me or how I got here, he might be willing to support our present and future."

Jon nods. "Making the best of the situation you're in rather than pining for the situation you don't have?"

"Yeah." Kylo looks away from his drink. "Uh… The one thing he's always wanted is recognition. He never really got it. Even in the New Republic, droids weren't really people. But… He's people. So, I know you want to be inconspicuous for right now, but feel free to offer him a rank and command privileges. That's probably the only level I can do him one better than my mother ever did, so…"

Jon shrugs. "I can do that." He inclines his head a little. "Probably go a ways to making him not see an Imperial when he looks at me. The Emperor never had any use for the idea that droids, or non-humans even, were people."

Kylo nods. "They're all people. If it can think and feel and act, it's people."

Jon smiles at that, very pleased to hear it come out of Kylo. "And we welcome any people who want to work with us."

"Exactly."

The last time Threepio was on an Empire ship… Okay, he's not on an Empire ship. The Empire has been gone for three decades. And, supposedly, this isn't a First Order ship, either. Not anymore.

Whatever this is… Kylo's flagship… it gives him the willies.

"Why is it all black?" he asks Rey as he looks around Kylo's office.

"That's just the way it was when they gave him these rooms," Rey replies.

"I feel like I'm about to be fed into a trash compactor."

"I'm utterly certain that's not about to happen."

"And is he here?"

Rey nods. "We're in his office. He's in the bedroom, about seven meters from here." She can feel Jon and Kylo talking on the other side of the door. "If I knew Jon's rooms, I could have taken you directly there, but I don't. Do you want to see Kylo as well as Jon?"

"Lt. Colonel Frakes is enough for right now."

"Okay." She sends Kylo the message, and a minute later Jon steps out of his room.

Threepio can't wince, or cringe, or make any non-verbal expression of disgust, that said, Rey can feel his distaste at what, to him, looks exactly like a perfect Imperial in a dress uniform.

Jon, to his credit, does something no member of the Empire ever would have, he offers Threepio his hand, and says, "Jon Frakes, I understand you and I may work together."

Rey sags in relief at that. Threepio's almost startled at being greeted, especially by someone in what he considers to be an Empire uniform, as a person. But he snaps out of it, and offers his hand as well as he can. "See-Threepio, Human-Cyborg Relations."

Jon smiles at him. "I understand you're quite more than that. Kylo tells me that every important event in the last fifty years, you've been there."

"Most of them, sir."

"Don't get me wrong, I like being called Sir at least as much as the next officer, and maybe a tad more, but if you've got the information I need, you're very rapidly going to find yourself outranking me. At least, until I decide that I can do a better job in the open than in the shadows."

Threepio can't smile at that, but the idea that he might have a formal rank has never occurred to him. No one had ever thought to offer him one before.

"You see me having a rank?" Threepio sounds stunned, and very, very pleased.

"In The Order, if you can do the job, you get the rank to go with it, and right now, I need people who can do the job, so I don't care if your brain is metal and mine is meat, there's nothing inherently superior about being born versus being manufactured. So… General Threepio of the Order Diplomatic Corps, do you want to see what you can do for spreading the idea that the Order is here to build connections and get people working together for a common goal?"

"That depends entirely on the goal."

Jon smiles. "That's a good point. Right now, we're starting very basic: people, not planets, and people join us, we don't conquer them. Beyond that, eventually, we'll get enough citizens into place to have elections, and representatives, and they'll help us figure out where, exactly we're taking everyone."

"And if your people vote to conquer things right and left once you've got them voting?"

Jon feels Kylo in the back of his head saying: That's the thing they won't be able to vote for. "That'll be a bedrock principal. People come to us, not the other way around."

Threepio inclines his head. "I'm amenable to listening to more."

Jon smiles. "Good, come on, let's go for a walk. Do you want to stay here, or have Rey and Kylo shuttle you back and forth?"

"If what Rey is telling me is right, you've got at least five hundred people you need some sort of dossier on."

"Yes."

"And let me guess, no one who knows better has seen your seating plan?"

"Also a yes."

"Or gone over your menu?"

"That's true, too."

"Get me a room here, your seating chart, menu, and direct access to your catering team."

Jon grins at Threepio, and then at Rey. "I think we're set up. You have a good night."

Rey nods at them, pleased to see this level of getting along, as Jon walks Threepio out of Kylo's office toward the best set of rooms he's got ready to put into play.