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“Emperor,” Phasma says, startling him. He snaps out of his thoughts.
Hux turns around, hands folded behind his back and looks at his most loyal…well not friend. Hux can’t afford that. But it’s a near thing. He nods at her.
“General. Are you here to pick me up?” he asks and she nods. She’s gripping her F-11D blaster rifle a tad too hard and Hux refrains from reminding her that there’s no need for this anymore.
He made it.
He’s the ruler of the galaxy. Only fools would try to end his life and they would never come even near him. Hux is only surrounded by his most loyal underlings.
And yet…
There’s something amiss.
“You ought to put that helmet off sometime,” Hux says to her in a blasé tone and checks his hat in the mirror. He’s wearing his nicest military uniform. Nothing the old emperor, that politician, would ever have worn, but here they are. New times. In the new empire. With him as the leader.
Phasma makes a noise behind her helmet that sounds suspiciously like a snort.
(He wonders if maybe they are friends.)
“I’d like to be protected while protecting you, emperor,” she says and Hux outstretches his right arm and bows down in a mocking way.
“Lead the way, then,” he says and follows her out of his quarters.
He has a whole palace for himself but only uses a part of the west wing for himself. He doesn’t need much to bring a whole galaxy back in order. He’s been raised to renounce luxuries and would rather like to use the money for military and strategic purposes.
Everyone snaps to attention when Hux and Phasma pass them.
Most of them salute him, greeting him with a crisp ‘Sir’.
Hux likes it that way. He still thinks of himself as a military strategist and not some filthy rich man out of touch with the real world who wants to has his shoes kissed by everyone.
All he ever wanted was power. Ultimate power.
Now that he has it, there’s no need to become lax and let the order he restored crumble again.
He breathes in the flowery scent when they exit the palace and looks around. The trees around the palace are the greenest he’s ever seen and he wonders if the rumors about aphrodisiac wild flowers growing here are true.
Ah, distracting thoughts. He shouldn’t allow himself that.
They stop in front of five landcruisers and sits down when Phasma offers him the encircled one. Phasma and her safety kink. Honestly.
A Stormtrooper wordlessly hands him a holopad and sits down behind the wheel. Phasma chooses to drive the landcruiser directly behind Hux’s.
Hux takes his hat off (he doesn’t enjoy landcruiser rides but they are the most cost-efficient way do drive to that outdated thing) puts it on his lap and prays that his hair will stay its usual way when the driver starts the landcruiser.
Phasma told him that it would take them approximately 15 minutes to reach their destination, so he has enough time to go through the most important messages on the holopad.
He allows himself a small smirk when he reads the number of the newly captured (now ex-)members of the Resistance.
Hux certainly does enjoy having everyone under his command and only sends his best men to capture the last remains of the Resistance.
13 minutes later the landcruiser stops and he’s greeted with loud noises, cheers and screams.
It’s nice to hear that almost everyone is glad that General Hux came, saw and won. That he brought the galaxy back in order. Most of them seem to appreciate the new system.
He offers the cheering crowd a small (fake) smile and gets into the stadium. Flanked by Phasma and another officer of course. Phasma always insists.
It is loud and so, so full in the stadium.
The emperor’s box is in the middle of the big construction, almost hovering over everything else. He’s going to have the best view.
Not that he wants to see anything, but the crowd loves it, so why not allow them a bit fun.
Servants are offering fruits and refreshments as soon as he sits down, but he only holds up his hand and they scurry back into the shadows which the canopy throws on the emperor’s box.
“Let’s get this over with,” he says, leans back on his comfortable throne and snaps his fingers.
Almost immediately the big gates on the ground are opening and 20 people are being brought in, cuffed to each other. Different species are looking up at him and he’s almost impressed that some of them are looking up at him with rage and disrespect in their eyes. Two guards crack their whips and 18 of the prisoners get on their knees. Two are still refusing and stare up at him with hostility in their eyes.
A knight of Ren emerges from the gates, reaches out with her right hand and fists it.
The two remaining prisoners gasp in pain and are on their knees tree seconds later.
“Hail, Emperor, those, who are about to die salute you,” they say in unison.
Hux hates that sentence but the crowd goes mad.
He nods again and gives the sign that the spectacle may start.
The beasts are unleashed and after one minute already two former members of the Resistance are dead. The crowd goes wild. Hux doesn’t watch the spectacle in front of him. His eyes follow the knight who goes up the stairs to a platform to watch it from there.
He wonders if she’s sweating like hell in her dark robes now or if the force (he scoffs) is keeping her cool.
But again. Distracting thoughts.
He should put on a pleasantly entertained face and not think about knights of Ren or how they keep their cool, or how they get recruited. Or their leader.
Hux clenches his teeth and doesn’t allow himself another thought. Not about –
His holopad chimes and he looks down at it, opening the message.
Moon destroyed , it says. No Survivors. Kylo Ren’s orders.
Hux sighs and is almost a bit jealous. He’d love to be on the Finalizer too, right now. It would be more entertaining for him than this plebeian extravaganza.
But even an emperor has duties. Duties that he may not like but has to do anyway.
Phasma clears her throat behind him and he snaps out of his thoughts.
Right.
Duty first.
Always.
~+~
As soon as he’s in his private quarters he peels his uniform off in disgust. He always, always tries to keep his clothes as pristine as possible but being in a sandy stadium under the bright sun for four hours –
That’s like tilting at windmills.
When he’s out of the uniform he glares at it in disgust. Maybe he should just burn it.
“That’ll be a shame. I like that one.”
Only years and years of training let him refrain from flinching violently.
He turns around and looks through the open floor-length windows.
(His face hurts, because he’s fighting a smile.)
Hux tilts his head and folds his uniform into the hamper.
“Well, that is a surprise. Didn’t you tell me that we’re not going to see each other for a long, long time?”
(Hux hasn’t seen him in 912 days but who’s counting anyway.)
The dark figure on his balcony looks at him and the moon illuminates his mask.
How Hux hates that thing.
He can feel something probing at his mind and it’s so familiar and welcome it threatens to overwhelm him.
“You’ve missed me,” Kylo Ren says and comes into the room. Did he really come in via the balcony? Still a drama queen then.
“I did not,” Hux says and is shocked that it sounds playful. His body feels warm, his toes curl into the soft carpet beneath his feet and he can’t help but take a deep breath when the other man is standing before him, standing so close that Hux can feel his body heat.
“I’m sure, you did. I can sense your pleasure rolling off in waves.”
“Will you stop cheating?” Hux asks and watches as Kylo takes off his gloves. Hux’s skin prickles and the reason is not the cool night air that comes in through the windows.
“It’s not cheating when you’re practically screaming at me.”
That sounds smug but Hux can’t really tell. Damned mask.
Kylo probably read his thoughts (or maybe not) because his ungloved hands take off the helmet and there he is.
Hux’s whole body is screaming to throw himself into Kylo’s arms but that would be childish and unprofessional. He was raised better than that.
Kylo’s hair is even longer than the last time he’s seen him (912 fucking days, he can’t believe it), the scar on his face is still there, bringing roughness in his soft face. But the eyes. The eyes are still the same. Kylo’s lips may not stretch but his eyes are smiling.
Hux’s whole body thrums with energy, but he doesn’t want to do something stupid –
Warm hands are touching his neck and Kylo pulls him upwards to his face.
Pulls him there, where Hux belongs.
Their lips meet and Hux is not moaning, but it’s a near thing.
Fuck, how he has missed these lips on his, these warm hands on his naked skin, the dark force embracing him like a warm cocoon.
It’s a surprisingly soft kiss, but Hux wouldn’t have it any other way.
When they finally break the kiss, Hux is smiling (a real one).
“Are you finished conquering the rest of the galaxy in the name of the emperor?” Hux asks and counts it as a win when there’s a grin tugging at Kylo’s lips.
“Not quite, but I left the rest of the task to my most loyal men.”
His hands are stroking Hux’s neck, his shoulders, fingers tapping at a few freckles.
Hux tries not to shudder and fails.
Before Kylo can make fun of him because of that, Hux asks,
“Did you finally come back to rule the galaxy with me?”
Kylo’s answer is a bruising kiss.
Took you long enough, he thinks.
Shut up, comes the answer.