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A man is nothing without his ability to do his duty. Being mocked by my soulmate over the battlefield has not changed this, the contraction in my throat means nothing.
Still.
Why is my hand trembling even as I follow protocol? Not even father could claim such a moral victory over the despicable lurking weakness of the heart.
But still, to hear those words finally spoken out loud and from the other side of the battlefield. Undistilled pain. That the dreaded words curling around my wrists as shackles, those who haunted the hidden fantasies of rescue and peace should be the source of pain and mortification. Nothing more than I suspected.
"Fire." Did Dameron know the truth as the line cut and my words call for his execution?
To fire upon my soulmate? The weak boy grew up to pull the trigger, and I am finally my father's son in the end. Does he watch me from beyond with pride? Finally convinced of his son's worth?
All eyes on the bridge locked on me as they stare. Have I at last with a last push of will purged the disgust from their eyes and proved my mettle? No, no, no. Never.
Breathe. Lead.
Disgust. Pity. Dread. That was the strokes of which their eyes looked down at me.
Weak enough to be soul bound to scum. My will is iron, my heart muted. That the first and only words ever spoken by whom the Force intended was mocking is fitting. There can be no room for love. Only steel. Seeing him spin and turn in a deadly dance with the turrets should silence me further. Fire raining down over his compatriots should bring me joy. Closure.
Why can't I speak? What is this tearing in my chest? Seeing him escape, and slip from my grasp brings neither despair nor satisfaction. Further humiliation and an increasing faintness. Father, please.
The pain from the Supreme Leader’s Force choke faded in comparison to the chord fraying between me and my second half. My gloves prevent my nails from digging into my hands, but I hold them firmly behind my back. Posture perfect. The illusion of all I ought to be, even as his life faded by my hand the need for my father's approval has its claws deep.
Has my voice always sounded so raw? Onwards.
No stain can be allowed to remain. Must wash the stains of weakness away. The winter of the decadent Republic has turned into a spring of Order, my firm hand would lead them into this era.
I was strong enough to fire Starkiller. Even lost to me no other than the paper-thin and weak bastard could make the impossible real and in a glorious moment of red light he rose above all abusers. General A. Hux ruled supreme in that tiny blip. Before it crumbled into dust under my feet. The decimation of triumph was the work of my soul mate. Was that why he was chosen?
A worthy adversary - not a partner?
It must be so - a final insult from the Force.
The rebels will not escape this time. The path ahead lies clear.
Math and technology will rule supreme, not magical force or sentimental hope. Durasteel and numbers and the power of my fleet will bring them down. I can master the pain better than my father did. Silence the heaviness in my body and the despair of a broken bond. It bleeds, but blood has never broken me.
Loss.
Life is nothing but a string of humiliations.
Neither power, steel nor intellect can shield me from the Force even as Ren runs from one idiocy after another ruining my life work. All good in my Order is polluted. Meritocracy was forgotten in the favour of whim and magic.
What choice but simple duty had been the leading tenant of my life? Where had it led?
Down a path of despair and blood.
Have I wreaked destruction upon the galaxy for a lie?
No, it cannot be. Not for nothing.
Ren stole the future from under me. I will bring him down with each inch of my remaining power.
What brought unconsciousness at this time? Had he flung me into another panel? Choked me? It mattered not. The dull pain in my body was nothing to the bleeding of my soul. My mind is steel and I will remain strong.
The new wind can still blow. I will spearhead a new revolution and cleanse the Order. Harder, ever hard I must do my duty. The Resistance is the unlikely key to bringing Ren down. If I fail, he will burn with me and nothing of this great institution will remain. Even dead she will be pure, better than then defiled. My Order.
I will help them set his world on fire. Tear down all he has dear.
How could I, a Hux, allow this? Hardening my heart even as information was given. A dirty, but necessary act.
Why does the pain soothe as contact with this filthy rebel is established? A dirty act which bore fruit. The encrypted message had his handler overjoyed with words which rang suspiciously true.
Ren ripped the Finalizer from me the same day. Even shipless and a shadow of my former self magic can not wear steel down. I remain steadfast, weaving my web. Soon I will be greater than you ever were, and my worries will be eased.
Dameron led his troops through an impressive if costly strike at one of the Order’s Dreadnoughts. Seeing the man rush into the fire, witnessing how the machine bent to the pilot's will wakes a whisper of longing. Why could he not bend my machines like that instead of setting them on fire? The grand ship burning was a victory seen on its own, but a disaster in the Resistance war effort.
My handler is the only point of human contact I have had for a long time. After writing with him the pain is easier to bear. Is? Dare I hope?
No. It cannot be. This was for the greater good, and to bring Ren down from the false levels he had dared to ascend. Nothing more It rang petty, empty to my own ears.
Messages besides the strictly formal followed between the handler and me. A pitiful thing to acknowledge that once more I was reduced to a hunt for acknowledgement. When he, rebel scum as he might be, writes my body feels lighter. The lead that has worn me down since the despair over D’Qar temporarily lifted. Could it be? It was not possible.
Concern leaked through his words. This stranger friend, no my handler is talking about impossibilities as extractions and ways to keep me safe. Me. Has anyone ever wished to ensure my safety before? Would he still do so if he knew what I was? Who I am?
A worm has eaten through the armour of my soul, forcing the tin of denial open. A box within my mind that never should be touched springs alive. Regret seeps out.
Starkiller had not delivered a decisive victory. No matter the fleeting sensation of triumph and safety as it split the heavens apart. It had been but a tactical success that led to a strategic loss.
If it wasn't a clean strike of war, what does it make me? A line of thought too shattering to consider. Father's voice finds my weakness worthy of mockery, even as it stems from the depths of my mind.
Dameron’s picture haunts my sleepless nights. How did the bond snapping affect him? An action irreversible and detestable and for what? More pearls on the string of humiliation. Was he as ashen-faced as me, or was he relieved that I spared him the need to order destruction?
Messages and blueprints will have to fill the expanding void in my heart. It grows and eats all which I once was. Duty cold comfort when the harvest it reaps is a ledger stained red.
Between the Intel, we share more intimate concerns. He mentions fleeting descriptions of a life I never understood friends never named and family. The illusive and talkative nature seems likeable. Charisma seeping through encrypted messages enough to endear this man to me.
Other things we share, the weight of the world and the torment of failure drag us down with guilt. He also struggles with guilt. He carries it close and believes himself tainted by blood.
That anyone should say as much to me seems - ironic - to say the least.
He has issues with his soul mate too, something within stirs where nothing has the right to stir. What comfort in my power to give is freely given, but what can be said? I remain reluctant to share more than I have irrevocably lost mine.
I gave it all up for glory and duty. The chance of a silver lining is lost.
I cannot speak the truth. Admit it. What of the duty to the other part of my soul?
Too late. Must continue the present path.
Delete all emotion.
Pryde will not have me under his boot. Never again!
He still manages.
Father will be so angry. Weak boy. Pathetic.
Then the last tether crumbles. A cataclysm for all true to the ideals which seems only a dream. A delusion. Brought down with the revelation of the Final Order.
An insult to all duty and meritocracy. Beyond Order and into evil. Have all my struggles been in vain? Each sacrifice is made on the altar of a lie. There will not be a First Order for me waiting on the other side. She never excited out of our dreams and I never intended to wear her dark crown. Even so, I will ensure her a mausoleum worthy of her shattered dream. Ren will die. And I will perish with my precious Order.
The Resistance must be told.
The handler’s sweet words were not enough to hold me back.
There is nothing. The Order and my duty to her was all and if she is to die - I will follow her.
I fired on my own soul mate, the one person who could have accepted me for who I am. Billions lay dead at my feet.
For nothing.
Nothing!
Therefore I am nothing even as I stare out on the everlastingness of space. Steel and Iron will be my grave.
Dameron will heal and find love when I am gone. With this, I give him the chance to survive.
My hand does not tremble when I transmit the terror of the order. Betrayal running deep as I go against all that should be my duty. Ensuring my soul mate lives another day, is a man's duty too. If only I had seen it before.
He takes up the lead and once again he implores that I pull out. When words of comfort don’t move me, he inquires about my dedication to my other half. My reply remains that I have failed my soulmate in all ways possible and that he will be better off without me.
My friend fell silent. Friend, a false friend for the price of deceit, was still the closest thing I had to one.
A day later he answers that his soulbond is so fractured that it threatens to consume him. A wound never healing, festering by not doing enough and rage. A cut early similar to mine. A weak condolence is sent with my last set of information.
Ren breathes down my neck and scatters off.
Pryde gloats. A disappointment never filling the shoes of General B. Hux? As if I didn’t know that myself. I dare look at my words again, now faded on my body in a sickly grey, hard to spot on translucent skin. General Hugs. Good, no one else can see them. Father must be so disappointed. Is this his punishment? It must be.
Please, let it all end.
I can feel his presence on the ship before the report of captured rebels reaches me. A pull in my chest demanded I make amends. That is impossible, but this is my chance to do anything right.
This time I can save him.
Finally laying eyes on Dameron sends my pulse aflutter. I drown in golden brown eyes glittering with mischief even as the hour is dire. Even dirty and wounded he is undeniably handsome. If only my fingers would get to comb through the outrageous, gorgeous mess of his hair. How could disorder be so tempting and roguishness so charming?
I force the spell to break.
Posture in order and hand calm I do my duty to him this one time. Three men fall to my hand under his gaze. The traitor and Wookie say something, but that is all background noise which fades with the pull of Dameron’s presence.
Lowering my weapon words come on their own accord "I am the spy."
"I know." His voice ambrosia to my ears. The expression in his eyes was unreadable. Does he? Was he? Does it matter? It can’t matter.
The traitors talk to me, but my attention remains locked on soft eyes. "Why are you helping us?"
Enraptured my eyes linger on his lips and I am out of words for the first time since my ascension to general. What can I reply? Too aware of his attention to my smallest movement to process my thoughts.
Does his soul demand retribution? It should. Mine longs for him to take it.
"I." My fingers wrap over my words as excuses concerning Kylo Ren's misrule die on my lips. "My reasons are my own."
Defying reason, Dameron’s face brightens before freezing at my next words. "Shoot me or they will know." He stops the traitor’s hand. The former trooper is eager to bring me down but my soulmate's touch, jealousy burns that the traitor will feel it when I never will, has the former stormtrooper wait.
They exchange glances, displeasure written on the darker man.
My soul mate raises a stolen blaster and the twinkle of his eyes mute.
I allow myself a small smile while closing my eyes.
He knows. He will free me from this world and be the stronger for it. The last thing I have seen will be him, more than I deserve.
All will be over.
It hits me square in the chest only the blaster is set to stun.
The floor is cool. Reality seems to blur out. Movement is impossible. Eyes remain shut and a thread is all awareness that remains. A warm hand against my face. "You are coming with me, General." Strong arms lift me, holding me close. A light sensation blooms in my chest.
I must be bleeding out and blessed with a delusion of being saved. A delusion I swallow happily when blackness claims me.
The screech of the engine was foreign, far from the soft hum of the Finalizer. Irrevocably lost to me. The ships tremble and the scent of oil is heavy.
It hits me. What I have done. Where I must be.
"Figured you won't wake up again?" Voice familiar.
Unsettling. Too soft.
Danger!
My mind catches up when my back is pressed against the edge of the bunk.
Vibroblade drawn. I am trapped as a frightened animal. Father was right. Weak, worthless and not worthy of the affection he wanted to give.
Cornered.
No moments are made. My breath slows.
Dameron sits at the bunk next to mine, perfectly still but close enough to reach out his hand to me. I make no effort to move, the cool steel of the ship vibrating against my back. Knife firm in my grasp.
"I won't harm you." His words make as little sense as his tone.
"Why?" I choked out.
His demur is more forlorn than a skyfall over Arkanis. "Suppose I should be flattered you only draw your weapon in self-defence this time." It hits me harder than a blow, then he breaks me further with a broken "How could you bear to do it?"
I lower the blade, it stays in my hand. "Practice." Look down at my hands. "I have regretted it."
"No apology?" His smile is as empty as that of a poster, smiling because it is all it knows what to do.
"What I did is beyond forgiveness." At close, he is still ridiculously handsome, but tired. The same grey undertone staining me sticks under his darker skin. Eyes dry. "Self-control, I thought it was the only way to fulfil my duty and the Order’s purpose.
“I was and remain as disturbed as I am impressed.” He seems exhausted. Pained.
What is caused by the war and what is my fault?
“See how it turned out?" I spit out, then I catch myself. I am not angry at Dameron, the one I despise is myself. "You could not do it?"
"I did not want to."
"Why?" I sound broken.
"Because I am a fool."
"Perhaps, but a brave one nevertheless." His laugh sounds haunting and wrong, but I forge ahead. "You who stayed loyal to your cause where I failed? True, good even."
"You were my spy. I have known it for some time."
"How?"
"Oh. Your safety measures must have been enough, fooling the rampant mind reader and all that. No, I just felt it." He gestures over his chest area. "And the information passed too valuable to origin from just any officers."
"I hoped you... but it does not matter." I sheath the weapon. Dameron won't harm me even if he has every reason to.
Of that I am sure.
"Yet you became my spy". Dameron whispered low to himself.
Still.
"Trying to wash yourself of the disgust of being bound to me?" My chest flutters with the acknowledgement. The bond burned battered bent, but not broken. Had it healed or never been broken?
He moves closer to me. Slowly. Giving me time to react. I fight the urge to curl into myself and instead assume a more appropriate seat.
The hand on my skin sends shivers down my spine, as he lifts my face. Gentle, but firm he captures me and I am forced to look at the devastation I have wrecked. In his face not only his pain shines but billions of eyes haunt me.
"That my bounded was to be an enemy became clear when my words appeared. Had years to make my peace with that, even as the Order rose. That it was you, General Hux came as a surprise." Sad, deep and painfully beautiful and framed by long lashes he pulled me in. "Yet."
He fell silent. We remained frozen in place. Waiting. A sob rips through him. My arms acted on instinct alone as they pulled him closer. I freeze as I understand, on the verge of retreat when he clings hard.
His breath was on my shoulder. My hands were on his back.
Uncertain of procedure I remained perfectly still. Giving him time to collect himself. "Yet.” He picks up his point. “Never in my wildest dreams that.” More sobs break through. “You. Fired. was inconceivable. It broke me.”
Shame.
"I.” Unable to escape his soul watching me back. “Could never imagine it could affect you so, though I sacrificed myself and nothing more.” My hands wrap around his, pleading. “Dameron, kill me and set yourself free. You deserve more than this."
"What?"
My voice is frantic. "Yes! It must be you or it won't snap free. It is what Father always- that is, with me dead someone less repellent could take my place. Kill me and be free."
"Stop!" My rambles die out. "Your father told you what? Taught you to cut it off? For what?"
"Steadfast duty, I failed. How he must despise me more than ever."
"Then you saved me. Us. Several times over." I look away. His sentiment is unearned. "Hux, your father lied, torment is all that would follow. I can assume your price has been high after you… Bonds don't work like that. "
My touch felt at home against his skin. "Don't look at me with pity, I am not worthy of your compassion."
All the same, he leans back towards my body. So close he must hear my heartbeat. Rapid and painful.
"So do you want?"
"I don't know. Kidnapping you was all instinct." His hand was shaking against my cheek.
"Could I make amends to you?" I blurt out.
Uncertain if he heard me silence drags out. My heart rushing and must draw all sounds out.
At last, Dameron replies. "Would you like to stay with me?"
"Would you let me?" I am humbled enough to ask.
"Yes." He is holding me when my tears fall. Providing comfort, I have never known. The bond vibrates between us as we declare our intention to pursue a common path. The empty part inside is a little bit fuller. Another void is filled, the black hole where my yearning for my father’s approval always lived is calm.
"Can I see it?" he says.
Nodding I withdraw and discard my uniform jacket. Dameron gesturing for something that works as a hanger. The action is a small thing, but through intuition, memory or bond, he provides an answer before I can voice my question.
Warmth spreads through my cheeks. The shirt I fold and the words more prominent. Curling around my wrist invisible to all. All but him.
I extend my arm and his fingers follow the outline. A moan threatens to fall from my lips, the sensation sweet. Sending tendrils of pleasure through muscle and bone. "Hux, I struggle to see your reaction to finding this. General Hugs." He laughs at his own lame joke.
Hand guiding me back towards him. I am willing for more of that touch. Lean into it. "Seeing them the first time shattered my last dream of happiness."
"Why?" His arms wrapped around me again, steading me against the great unknown.
"Assumed you would turn out as the next in the line of tormentors. Tearing me down from your first words to me."
"One of many?"
"The worst of them all, my soul mocked by the one I was supposed to rely on. But I taught myself to take courage in the general part." A bitter laugh escaped my lips again. Dameron flinching under my touch. "Made it easier to steel against longing."
Calloused hands found my face. It was so easy to relax into them. "I am not like that."
“What did you think when you saw my first words? Promising doom and destruction is hardly a republic ideal.”
“It saddened me, scared me even. Then I decided to take it as a challenge! To have some faith that the force would provide.”
“Ever the hero.” No ounce of sarcasm laces my words. If only I could build for him, not threaten to destroy all he held dear, even in chains I provided a blot on his light.
We are silent as he mulls something over. "I would protect you. Even knowing what you have done, I would never harm you."
Never again do I want to let his hand go. Never lose the sensation of it against my cheeks. "You will need to, not all will take lightly to you saving me."
"I will not let my soulmate down. Hux... Armitage." My name is spoken not as a curse but as a prayer. Soft, reverent. "Can I call you that?
All I could do was nod. A great orator forgetting each of my words.
"Poe." Sweet on my tongue, the name honey in itself, addicting. "Poe."
A new wind had blown and brought a spring which defied anticipation. Even amidst the shatters of my broken dreams, this man shone, a light chasing the shadows away. Father’s cruel words dim.
His smile is both exuberant and tired. “Armitage, I will stand by you.”
My hand once again found itself combing through tangled locks. "I believe you. Rest, I will watch over you."
He makes himself comfortable in my lap and smiles again. "Keep doing that then. It is nice." Holding him was a boon, not a request.
The rhythm of his breath quickly became familiar, safe where the queer sound of the Falcon's engine promised danger ahead. Poe Dameron, this pilot, this rebel and my soulmate are somehow the same man. A strange and wonderful man all for me to protect. To be protected by.
If I had not shattered the opportunity and would face down a firing squad upon arrival, no matter what my crazy, sweet pilot would protest. Nevertheless, Poe had already saved me.
All is not forgiven, a long journey needed to mend what I tore asunder but the first stitches have been made.
The door opened, creating a tear in the bubble we erected around us, revealing the displeasure of the traitor. It might be time to leave. But I could bask in the glorious act of resistance in waking him slowly. Gently.
Any thoughts of goading the former trooper lost in those soft curls wrapped around my fingers. Lost in the lazy smile that met me when he opened his eyes. So shamelessly unaffected by the chaos around us.
I was ready to face my fate the same way I had learned to - prim, pristine and with the dignity of my station as armour. Alone. Always alone. The warm pressure of Poe's hand in mine the death of any such plan.
He led me down the Falcon’s ramp as if it was an aisle to the astonishment of those who gathered to celebrate their return.
“I return not only with our spy but with my soulmate.” His voice is clear and proud.
Pandemonium breaks loose but all I hear is the brightness that shines in Poe’s smile.
Hope blooms between us, promising a long summer and a seed of love.
The End