"You. Did. What?!"

"I didn't have any other choice, Poe!"

"Uh, say no?! There are a million other choices, Benny!"

"You don't understand. It's not so simple when your people are hanging on a precipice between peaceful tension and war!"

Poe closed his mouth, unable to look away from his childhood friend.

Ben Organa, as he had known him, was curled up in the copilot seat of his X-wing, wearing a mix of grays and whites, hair pulled into a messy bun away from a makeup-free face. He would never have been caught dead like this as Queen.

Ben pulled his knees to his chest, sulking. "I didn't want to marry him; I don't want to marry anyone. But if it means I will have power in the affairs of the First Order, I will do it. The Republic will return peace to our galaxy only once the First Order has been sated."

"Everything you do is about politics or the Force nowadays, isn't it?"

Poe stretched backwards, not wanting to process the new information.

Ben didn't respond, but he twirled the hilt of his Lightsaber around his fingers. Poe watched with a thin mouth. "Jedi...Queen...when do you have time to be a person?"

Ben gave a huff between frustration and humor.

"I don't. That's on purpose. And, before you can ask, no. Hux will never know that I'm a Jedi; he may be my fiancé, but that doesn't mean I ever have to care for or trust him."

"Ben, that's absolutely awful."

The young man shrugged, pulling the collar of his shirt taught.

"It's politics. Besides, it won't really affect me; Rey's still got all the mistresses she could want. Don't you?"

Ben swung his seat around as the door to the cockpit hissed open.

Rey was standing at the opening, arms crossed. Her eyes were sharp, angry, and clever, and her own Lightsaber hilt swung from her hip.

"I'm actually quite happily and exclusively married, thank you very much; if Phabs has any extraneous partners, she keeps them well away from me."

"But she doesn't know you're a Jedi, does she?"

Rey made a face.

"Absolutely not. How stupid do you really think I am?"

"Dunno. Luke's pretty naive."

Rey made a short sound as she clambered into the cockpit, making herself comfortable on Poe's lap.

"Hey, Poe. Guessing you've already grilled him like I was planning to."

"Rey, you're his cousin; you should be able to knock some sense into him!"

Rey leaned back over Poe as he snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her to one side so he could still see Ben sulking.

"Aunt, technically; does nobody in this galaxy understand how cloning works? Anyway. I can't say there's anything to be knocked into. I'm just frustrated that of all the people in the First Order to knock headboards with, you choose the one who openly and blatantly denies the existence of the Force!"

Ben gave a scowl, accented with a dramatic snarl, but otherwise did not move.

"I didn't go after him; he chose me! Maker knows why; the first time we met, he thought I was-"

Ben fell silent suddenly.

Poe and Rey leaned forward.

"You never told me what happened the first time you met him…"

"Me neither."

Ben's pupils dilated and he flushed angrily.

"He might have thought I was a prostitute...and slapped me."

Ben spoke quickly, looking intently away. Rey's mouth fell open; Poe's closed in anger.

"...And you never had him punished?"

Rey pulled Poe's hands away, standing as best she could in the cramped space. Ben huffed.

"I didn't know what to do; I didn't try to pick anything up until after he hit me. By the time I actually got into his head, any real thought was corrupted with rage and shock and guilt. I don't know why he hit me."

"Of all the people in the Republic to hate but still want to marry, how did you end up at the top of that list?"

Poe brushed his hair back, trying not to think about what he would've done if he was there to watch some bastard slap his longstanding best friend. Ben flushed again, dark eyes cast down.

"...He doesn't hate me. Quite the opposite, in fact; it's really very filthy. He thinks so loudly."

Rey tapped at the dashboard.

"We're going to talk about this more, believe that, but we're late, Poe. We need to be on Hoth in fourteen."

She pushed Ben out of his seat, and he fell easily with a dramatic flair. She laughed as she took his chair, and he smiled softly as she pushed his foot away, which he had stuck as far up as he could. He sat up and crossed his legs, leaned his head against Poe's seat, and became sullen again.

They left the secret hangar in awkward silence, Poe thinking hard and hoping that neither of his friends had their thoughts in his head.

"It won't be too bad once the ceremony is complete, but from the sound of it, your marriage is actually quite far away."

Hux glanced up at Phasma, who was filing her nails, and back to the document before him.

He was sitting at his desk, trying to do some work, and Phasma was laying on top of his desk, keeping him from doing anything except look at the document he'd had in his hands for twenty minutes.

His imperial jacket was tossed over the back of his chair, and his boots were tucked neatly under the desk, but other than that, he was wearing the same uniform he'd worn the entire day, and now, half of the night.

"You don't even understand how complex this is. I'm not allowed to wear white until my wedding, but Kylo is meant to wear increasing amounts of white up until we are married, and how much white the both of us wear after is meant to indicate how well we get along. I'm meant to leave him flowers and gems that mean different things, and nobody even knows which plants mean what. I'm not supposed to be alone with him, but by the time we are married, we're supposed to have written our own vows based upon our love for one another. It's hypocritical, nonsensical custom that Leia herself didn't even follow!"

"Mmm." Phasma affirmed, drawing her hand back to look at the effect of her flatly filed nails, before beginning to round them. "I honestly don't think I spent more than five minutes with my wife before we got married, but we were stuck with each other for nine days after on our honeymoon, and we do quite well. She's even given me a nickname; her name's too short for me to do anything with, but we get along."

"If the way you file your nails has anything to do with it, I would say that you get along a little too well. You do realize that you're basically fingerfucking Luke Skywalker, right?"

Phasma stretched, arching her back like a cat, intentionally knocking a stack of papers off the desk.

"See, she's technically a clone of his grandmother, because that's how far back the genes go, and why Rey came out a girl. Which is not a problem for me."

Hux made an irritated sound, and flipped the page of his courting notes.

"I'm still completely shocked that he actually agreed."

Hux finally admitted after several minutes of silence. Phasma propped herself up on an elbow, brushing her hair out of her face.

"What, you're not the sex bomb of the First Order?"

Hux gave her a disapproving look, but didn't deny it.

"We didn't exactly get along the first time we met."

"What, you kick his ass or somethin'?"

Phasma stretched out across his desk again, and he was reminded by how tall she was as her feet hung off it.

"Don't joke like that." Hux demanded sharply. Phasma sat upright immediately, out of shock or soldier habit Hux did not know.

"Oh, seriously, what did you do?"

Hux shifted uncomfortably, holding the notes in front of his face. He didn't want to admit how red he got.

"Something unprofessional."

"Hux…"

Phasma reached up and pulled the paper away from his face. He didn't stop her, but he wouldn't look her in the face.

"You're the closest thing I've got to a friend. I don't know if even you would stand for what I did."

Phasma made a short sound.

"That was almost touching. You know that I'm already aware that you're a terrible person; come on, what could you have done?"

"I thought he was a hooker!"

Phasma laughed, flopping back onto the desk.

"So did you buy him or what?"

"I slapped him."

Hux spat, head in his hands. There was no response.

He looked up. Phasma was staring at him, hands together.

Slowly, she started to clap, shaking her head.

"Good job. Goo-oood job, Huxie."

"Don't call me 'Huxie'. Stop applauding!"

"How many people have you hit in your life outside of training? And out of all those, what, six people, how many did you try to marry? The fuck is wrong with you?"

"Watch your fucking mouth."

"HUX! Why do you want to go after some bitch you thought was a whore so unworthy of your presence that you slapped?"

Very suddenly, Hux dug his nails into Phasma's knee. He glared dangerously at her.

"Do not speak about Kylo Amidala like that."

Hux's grip began to shake. Phasma tensed.

"A...are you crying, Hux?"

"...It's been a stressful week."

"Hux, ca-"

"-It's late, Phasma. Your wife's probably wondering where you've been. You should go home."

Hux rubbed at his face carefully. He dropped the papers onto his desk.

He took several deep breaths, and rubbed the back of his neck. "I know why I want to marry Kylo; he's the most powerful figurehead in the Republic, and he knows how to control his people...but I don't know why I want to marry Kylo. I just know that I want to be closer with him. Sue me for that."

Phasma gave a quiet laugh. She smacked her hand on the desk and stood.

"I know why. You're obsessed with anything you think you can't have. You tore your way through the Old Order because you didn't think you could have all the power; you destroyed Snoke because you thought he was in your way; now, you want to marry a man you slapped because you think you can't make up for hitting him. All you've ever wanted was power, but you don't chase it; you live in its shadow."

Hux didn't move.

Phasma sighed quietly. "I want things to go well for you. I want you to listen to what you really want, but I don't think you know what you want."

She left.

Hux leaned back in his seat and dug through the pocket of the jacket hanging over his chair.

He began to smoke, but it couldn't dry his eyes.