"Poe, I swear on my life, we cannot let this marriage go through."
Rey stormed through the door of Poe's service garage, talking from the moment she crossed the threshold.
Poe cursed as he smacked his head on the chassis of the ship he was working on, sliding out from under it and tossing his wrench aside. He looked up, rubbing his head.
"You think I don't know? Benny's signed himself into a deathwish, but he won't listen to me!"
Rey scooped up Poe's droid as he rolled to her, beeping excitedly.
"So we get involved ourselves. You know how stubborn Ben is; he'll never break it off by himself. We've got to do something; that man is evil incarnate."
"What happened? Wait, did you actually meet him?"
Poe wiped his hands on a rag as he slid back under his current project, and Rey crossed the open space to lean against a counter, letting BB-8 back to the ground, where he beeped and rolled away again.
"His thoughts are so loud! Maker, he doesn't believe in the Force at all, and it might be what's saving him from complete and total humiliation!"
"Rey, start at the beginning, what happened?"
She rubbed the back of her neck and groaned.
"Okay, so, yesterday Ben and I went to that rich little moon with all the shops he loves, and we walked into the one that makes all his public appearance outfits, and the dickhead is just standing around inside like he owns the place, and Ben's knuckles are all scraped up, and he's not wearing nearly enough makeup to hide himself-we were not expecting to be seen by anyone recognizable-and it takes him a good five minutes to spit out that he's there shopping for Kylo, as if it isn't Ben standing right in front of him, and as if Ben doesn't already have every robe and dress in that place, and the entire time he's just swimming through these vulgar, half-formed, completely falsified thoughts, and he's blabbering on that he's properly courting Ben-utter garbage!-and Ben goes right along, but he says-he said-'we have to make it look good'! Ben has no interest in him at all, he's only doing this because it's part of a treaty that's being passed through the Senate only now, a good sequence after he signed himself into a marriage for it!"
Rey pounded her fist on the metal countertop, letting out a quiet and frustrated sob. Poe pulled his jacket off, covered in soot and grease, and held Rey to his chest. She huffed, breathing heavily, but she let him hold her.
"Rey...I don't know what they are, but I know Ben's got more reasons to do this than he's telling us. He's not the same Ben who rose to power; he's given up everything he is to the Force and his people. There's hardly room in his head for himself, and I think that's probably intentional. He...he was never the same, after his dad…"
"I know." Rey hiccuped weakly. She shuddered, and stepped away from Poe. "I know, and that's why I'm scared for him…Luke saw something, weeks ago, and he won't tell me what it is, but I know it's something about this marriage, I just know it, and yet-Ben's ignoring our pleas, Luke won't look him in the face, and this bastard of a fiancé Hux is standing at his podium speaking of the 'truth of the Order' while Ben stands by and pretends he's not trying to deliberately destroy it!"
Nervously, Rey had pulled the hilt of her lightsaber out, and she twiddled it back and forth, much to Poe's unease.
"What better way to destroy something than to start at it's brain? Rey, I'm sure Ben is thinking that, he's smart, he knows that the best way to take down the Order is to get inside it, and, let's be honest, Ben is just as dramatic as his father and uncle and-well, pretty much your entire family. This is his way of ending the reign of the bastard, as you called him, and he likes to make dramatic exits."
Rey laughed hopefully, but seemed far from convinced.
"How are we supposed to end this disaster before it begins? We can't do anything; he won't do anything."
Poe rubbed at his face and groaned as he thought.
"Did you ever talk to Leia? You know that woman, if she thinks for even a second that this guy is bad news for Ben, she-Rey?"
Rey was already gone, door swinging. BB-8 beeped sadly. Poe gave him a single pat and slowly went back to his work, face hot and chest heavy.
"Huuuuuuux!"
The emperor grimaced as the doors to his office blew in. Phasma stalked between them, jerking her helmet off and shaking her hair out.
She smelled like sweat and expensive lipstick that she never wore.
She was also the only person in the galaxy capable of coming into the Emperor's quarters like so.
"Commander Phasma. May I ask why you see fit to kick my doors in while I'm working with highly classified material?"
Condescendingly, Hux shut down the holopad he was working on.
She leered over his desk, red in the face.
"My wife tells me that you're getting yourself in trouble. She's damned your engagement to her nephew-cousin?-and won't speak to me about it. What did you do, you social Hutt?"
Hux blinked calmly.
"My word, Commander, such language. And towards me, of all people. Though I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about. Your wife was quite crude when I ran into her and my fiancé; she interrupted what I thought was a perfectly appropriate and pleasant conversation."
"What happened?" Phasma hooked a chair with her ankle and dropped into it, her armor crashing loudly against the seat.
"Really, Commander, I'm in the middle of something, and I'm sure you have duties to-"
"-Please, Hux, you know you aren't doing anything important, and my men are as trained as can be. Any more is pointless; they just await your order. Talk to me."
Clever eyes locked Hux's in place, and he scowled.
"I'm not even sure. Organa gave me a guideline for courtship, and I went and ordered some robes, and while I was picking them up, Kylo and your wife came into the store. I really think we were having a rather pleasant conversation, he and I, but your wife said...something, it still doesn't make sense to me, and Ren went...cold. He turned all political again, and they left. I can't tell you what she was thinking, I can't tell you what it meant.
"Of course you can't." Phasma groaned softly, rubbing her temple. "You've got no emotion left in you but spite."
"He seemed quite comfortable talking; what else was I supposed to do?" Hux tried, tilting his seat so he faced Phasma. She grumbled, pulling her glove off.
"Look, I know I said Rey and I get on very well, even though we didn't have much time together, and while that's true, I sincerely doubt it'll work that well for you. And…" Phasma's eyes suddenly flitted elsewhere, distracted.
"And?"
"And I keep secrets from Rey, even now. And I know she keeps secrets from me, too. You're...you're not the kind of person who can risk that, should a scandal come out that you weren't aware of."
"What, you think your wife is cheating on you?"
"No, that couldn't be farther from it, actually; I think...I think that…" Phasma trailed off again, beginning again before Hux could speak. "I think something that I want to tell you as a friend, but cannot tell you as the Emperor."
Hux made an offended, angry sound, and Phasma extended a hand. "Listen to me; I trust you with my life. If it was something of larger consequence, you would already know, I swear. My point is that I think that when Rey isn't around me, or working in the Senate, I think she and Kylo sneak around. Maker knows what they get up to, but it's definitely something that has to end if you want to get married to him."
"How am I supposed to make that happen?" Hux asked, though he had carefully filed away Phasma's reluctance to share information on her wife.
"This courtship thing hasn't worked out that well for you, has it? Not in the way Leia wants it to."
"Well, no, but-"
"-You're not supposed to be alone together, but listen; you need to be alone together. Spend time with one another. I joke that our honeymoon made Rey fall in love with me, but honestly? We didn't touch one another until the very last night, and, this is probably too much information, but our marriage wasn't consummated until almost a month after that. There's no way that someone like you can build a relationship that way, and there's no way Kylo would let you in unless he really felt like you loved him. He's just that kind of person...and you really need him to trust you."
Hux chewed his lip idly as he thought.
"What did Rey say about Kylo?"
Phasma laughed.
"Now, you don't want me to share what my wife has told me in confidence, do you?"
Hux looked back at her with a dangerous glare. She laughed again, unphased. "They practically grew up together; do you want to hear about the time he fell out of a tree and broke his ankle, or would you rather hear about the first time he learned to fly?"
Hux swallowed a snort.
"I'd rather know more about what he's like. Things he likes to do, and doesn't, his personality...the kind of person he's attracted to."
Phasma gave a light hum as she pretended to think.
"Let's see...oh! He likes people who don't slap him in the face."
"Phasma…"
"Okay, okay. Just wanted to make sure you still remembered that. In all honesty, it's hard to tell much about him, especially now. He wears that makeup like a mask, and he's damn good at the part he plays. But there are times when he slips. Goes back to the way he was before, a little."
"Before when?"
Phasma looked at him strangely.
"You really don't remember?"
Hux looked at her with bewilderment, shaking his head slowly. "He was Rey's best man! Maker, I knew you got drunk, but I didn't know it was that bad!"
Hux gasped softly; as soon as she said it, he could see it clearly.
He had been sitting in the front row of Phasma's half of the crowd; though the wedding was remarkably political, it was also quite small. Phasma had next to no family to speak of, anyway, and her side was filled with officers, like then-General Hux. Rey's side was packed with a few political names, but mostly family and friends; Hux had seen a Wookie towering over people being forced to sit near the back.
He hated weddings, even then; not only had he snuck a flask into the ceremony, but he had already emptied it halfway by the time Rey's entourage came down the aisle, but he remembered him.
He hadn't known his name; he had just known that he scoffed as he walked by. The kid had hair past his shoulders loosely pulled back, a few live butterflies lazily hanging around the flowers pinning his hair in place. He was wearing soft black eyeliner on his upper lids, though Hux remembered how quickly it had slid down during the reception.
He remembered the way he moved, timid but ultimately knowing, soft-bottomed boots under loose, very pale pink pants, an even paler beige shirt hiding under a bright yellow jacket.
He remembered that Rey's dress had layers of pale pinks and yellows at the bottom, and remembered the butterflies that practically coated her veil.
He remembered Rey and the boy smiling brilliantly at one another, and the way his eyes suddenly skirted over towards Hux knowingly as they embraced tightly.
He only remembered flashes of the reception; he remembered Phasma dragging him with shocking force onto the dance floor, he remembered the music pounding loudly much later into the night; he remembered reluctantly doing shots until he could stack a pyramid out of the empty glasses; he remembered Phasma bowing to him for it, and also such a tease, for she knew even then of his ambitions; he remembered holding a yellow jacket close to his chest, the heat of it, and he remembered a butterfly crawling on his cheek, a shy giggle as he twitched with it; he remembered a soft, warm hand against his neck.
He stared at Phasma.
"No. That can't have been him."
He said immediately, though he couldn't even remember what they had done, and the boy certainly had never given Hux his name.
Phasma crossed her arms.
"He doesn't remember it either, and I don't think Rey does, for that matter, but that was Kylo Ren before he rose to the throne."
"I can hardly remember anything…" Hux responded idly, rubbing his temple.
He flushed suddenly; he remembered one thing, and he was certain of it.
He remembered soft, plush lips pressing against the corner of his own so, so lightly, and he remembered the warmth leaving his neck, the jacket being pulled away from his hands.
Had he dragged the jacket closer, or had he just wanted to? He could hardly tell; he hadn't even thought about the wedding since the morning after it, when he woke with such a pounding headache he nearly checked himself into the medical bay.
Phasma laughed.
"I didn't think he was all that much, but you and I both know you were just drinking up your courage."
"That's not true." Hux snapped, but there was no conviction in his voice.
"You spent a good two hours working on him, and he was either incredibly drunk or totally smitten; obviously, it was the first."
"I don't chase people down." Hux defended, but he wasn't so sure anymore.
"The last I remember, you tucked him into a corner, and he just laughed! He kissed your cheek, I think, and he left! You drank alone after; you didn't even want to talk to me!"
"How does it matter if he can't even remember it?!" Hux nearly wailed, hiding his face in his hands.
"How am I supposed to win him when he didn't even want anything to do with me then?!"
Phasma's hand rested on his shoulder, comforting.
"You spoke for a long while, and he knew that there wasn't any separation from your military presence and you as a person. I think that that was what took you out. I know that there is a softness in you, Armie; I know that because you don't like it when people call you 'Armie', and if I wasn't me, I'd probably already be dead. You need to get to him one-on-one, and leave your militant disposition with your military, if you want him to leave his political disposition with politics."
Hux took a heavy breath.
"Okay, well, how am I supposed to get one-on-one with him? His schedule is constantly packed during the day, and he's got security everywhere.
Phasma grinned.
"Don't worry. I've got an idea."