author's note: tw: dub/non-con, mentions of non-consensual body modification, violence, general fucked-up-ness. Hope you like, OP!
Doll
15-A killed himself a month after he was taken. Hux wasn’t exactly surprised. The fool had done nothing but fight, scream, and cry himself to sleep. In the end he’d taken to whispering the names of his seven children over and over again, like a prayer, and lying on his back in his own filth, staring at nothing, begging his wife to save him.
She couldn’t hear him, of course. No matter how strong in the Force 15-A was (and his potential was considerable, which was the only reason he’d lasted this long), the complex’s inhibitor shields were far too strong for a mere witch to penetrate, clan Mother or not. And 15-A lacked both the training and the temperament to do it himself.
“I won’t forget them,” he whispered, his first words a week after being apprised of his true place in the universe.
You’d better, Hux thought, half-listening to Mitaka’s report.Seeing as they shouldn’t exist.
Somewhere in between being hosed down after yet another escape attempt (this time through the sewer), and the spinal fluid harvest, the graying house-husband realized what he was.
Spare parts.
Hux felt it the moment that Darth Sidious became interested, his awareness trickling into 15-A, reeling in his spirit. The man fought, retreated deep into himself, throwing what power he had between the Master and the bright, shining memories of his family. He held out as long as he could. Then –
YOU CAN’T HAVE THEM -
One down, 12 to go.
Hux almost admired him. Few people had the strength of will to smash their own skulls, and at least he’d had the courtesy to lock himself off from the others. He’d only shared vague mind-pictures, hazy memories of soft hands and laughter. Dathomir’s clear air and sky. Drums and dancing the day his wife won him. Fear and joy when his first child was born. That, of course, had stopped once 15-A realized that he was also a They*.
The selfish bastard.
Sometimes, though, in the dark of night, when the pricking in the back of his mind faded – the others slept - and Kylo was out of range, he called back what he’d seen. A face reflected in a still forest pool, both his and decidedly not. He saw – felt – feet and hands hardened and rough from climbing (usually with at least two children on his back). There was far too much knowledge of both cooking and cleaning, and the remnants of an ongoing attempt to build a roof out of rancor bones and a basilisk skin. Bits and pieces, half-formed thoughts about the Force, a curious reverence. And a strange preference for roasted fire-dove with mashed tubers.
Hux ordered it without thinking hours before he felt 15-A die.
A last meal?
A part of him hoped that Clone 15-A had been open enough to taste it.
***
Hux, however, had not been so foolish as to use his life.
Thief! his minder said, the one time he’d tried to run. He’d been locked in his room for a week. They installed mirrors on every wall, the ceiling, the floor, and took his clothes away. He screamed for a day, and spent the next with his eyes squeezed shut. He tried to hold on to himself while his mind was skinned raw by dozens of voices that all sounded like him.
They are you. You are them. All of you are Him.
He used the rest of the week to examine himself from all angles. He’d seen a photograph of the Master when he was a child. Not naked, of course, but he was holding himself in a particular way – head up, back straight, hands clasped behind his back, somehow looking down on everyone in the room, despite only being four feet tall.
He was practicing when they took him out.
And so he waited, prepared. He trained his mind and body mercilessly. He drew on the gifts of the Master’s flesh, and let nothing go to waste. He ate right, slept well, and headed to the med-bay at the first sign of a cold. He never broke a bone, and took great care to never scar.
His efforts paid off. One by one, the others were used up. 24-B ruined his liver with drink, and his heart with greasy food, but pampered his body with expensive lotions and creams. They took his skin after it hung loose on his frame after a few weeks on an all-liquid diet. 30-C had a keen intellect, a passion for History, and no concept of caring for his body – but his eyesight was excellent. They kept him for awhile, boosted his health bit by bit, picked and chose the very best bits.
Only the best for the Master.
That would not be his fate. He would be the complete package. He would be greater than the sum of his – the Master’s parts.
Perhaps then he would be chosen, and finally start to live.
***
The day came at last. He stumbled, gripped the nav console for support as 45-A’s mind fell away. It was just him. Him and –
“General?”
“Yes, Ren?” Hux snapped, half terrified, half excited. Two left, including him. No – Three? He shook himself, trying to clear his head. The quiet made his head hurt.
“You have been summoned to the Temple,” he said, with the air of one delivering a message. “I am to accompany you.”
Hux nodded, his heart in his throat. He felt Kylo’s eyes on him, accompanied by a low curl of curiosity.
“What is it?” he asked as they boarded the Knight’s shuttle.
“You talk in your sleep,” Kylo said, after a long pause. A shiver ran down Hux’s spine.
“How often?” he asked, quiet, carefully avoiding the other man’s eyes.
“Not for awhile now,” Kylo said. Hux swallowed.
“What do I say?”
I don’t want to know.
“Who is Ava?”
A wrinkled, still beautiful face, softened with sleep. A warm body, smaller without armor, curled against him, Force presence aglow with peace -
“No one,” he said.
Selfish bastard. Selfish dead bastard. You got what you deserved.
“Take off your helmet,” he heard himself say instead. Kylo tilted his head curiously, but complied. His hair was somehow flawlessly mussed, as always, his eyes dark and curious, and wearing that perpetually cocky grin. Hux knew not to mention how much he looked like his father when he smiled. He’d never get to see it again.
Now or never, he thought. He slid forward and kissed Kylo gently, just a brush of lips and breath. The Knight froze in shock. Hux smirked and dropped back into his seat.
“We’ve never actually kissed,” he said. Kylo swallowed, eyes wide. Then he surged forward, grasped the back of Hux’s head, and hauled him in for more.
They came up for air when the proximity warning sounded.
***
Devax was a dead world. Hux hadn’t seen it for years, and maybe it was because he was looking at it with adult eyes, but it was far more bleak than he remembered. Kylo trained on the surface with his Knights when he thought they’d been getting ‘soft’, but the actual Temple of Ren was deep underground. Hux stifled an amused chuckle. He had been deeper into the labyrinthine sanctum than any of the Knights and disciples, present company included.
It was also quite obvious that Kylo had no idea why an ‘outsider’ had been brought here.
Doesn’t even know what’s in his own temple, Hux thought. They stepped into the turbolift that would take them to the lower levels.
“You know where we’re going,” said Kylo. Hux nodded curtly. He pressed his palm to a hidden panel on the side of the lift. Kylo flinched as the control screen flashed red and the lift plummeted straight into the Inner Sanctum.
FILL: Doll (1/2) - Re: Palpatine!Hux/Hux, Kylo/Hux - Selfcest? Clones, Non/Dub Con
Doll
15-A killed himself a month after he was taken. Hux wasn’t exactly surprised. The fool had done nothing but fight, scream, and cry himself to sleep. In the end he’d taken to whispering the names of his seven children over and over again, like a prayer, and lying on his back in his own filth, staring at nothing, begging his wife to save him.
She couldn’t hear him, of course. No matter how strong in the Force 15-A was (and his potential was considerable, which was the only reason he’d lasted this long), the complex’s inhibitor shields were far too strong for a mere witch to penetrate, clan Mother or not. And 15-A lacked both the training and the temperament to do it himself.
“I won’t forget them,” he whispered, his first words a week after being apprised of his true place in the universe.
You’d better, Hux thought, half-listening to Mitaka’s report.Seeing as they shouldn’t exist.
Somewhere in between being hosed down after yet another escape attempt (this time through the sewer), and the spinal fluid harvest, the graying house-husband realized what he was.
Spare parts.
Hux felt it the moment that Darth Sidious became interested, his awareness trickling into 15-A, reeling in his spirit. The man fought, retreated deep into himself, throwing what power he had between the Master and the bright, shining memories of his family. He held out as long as he could. Then –
YOU CAN’T HAVE THEM -
One down, 12 to go.
Hux almost admired him. Few people had the strength of will to smash their own skulls, and at least he’d had the courtesy to lock himself off from the others. He’d only shared vague mind-pictures, hazy memories of soft hands and laughter. Dathomir’s clear air and sky. Drums and dancing the day his wife won him. Fear and joy when his first child was born. That, of course, had stopped once 15-A realized that he was also a They*.
The selfish bastard.
Sometimes, though, in the dark of night, when the pricking in the back of his mind faded – the others slept - and Kylo was out of range, he called back what he’d seen. A face reflected in a still forest pool, both his and decidedly not. He saw – felt – feet and hands hardened and rough from climbing (usually with at least two children on his back). There was far too much knowledge of both cooking and cleaning, and the remnants of an ongoing attempt to build a roof out of rancor bones and a basilisk skin. Bits and pieces, half-formed thoughts about the Force, a curious reverence. And a strange preference for roasted fire-dove with mashed tubers.
Hux ordered it without thinking hours before he felt 15-A die.
A last meal?
A part of him hoped that Clone 15-A had been open enough to taste it.
***
Hux, however, had not been so foolish as to use his life.
Thief! his minder said, the one time he’d tried to run. He’d been locked in his room for a week. They installed mirrors on every wall, the ceiling, the floor, and took his clothes away.
He screamed for a day, and spent the next with his eyes squeezed shut. He tried to hold on to himself while his mind was skinned raw by dozens of voices that all sounded like him.
They are you. You are them. All of you are Him.
He used the rest of the week to examine himself from all angles. He’d seen a photograph of the Master when he was a child. Not naked, of course, but he was holding himself in a particular way – head up, back straight, hands clasped behind his back, somehow looking down on everyone in the room, despite only being four feet tall.
He was practicing when they took him out.
And so he waited, prepared. He trained his mind and body mercilessly. He drew on the gifts of the Master’s flesh, and let nothing go to waste. He ate right, slept well, and headed to the med-bay at the first sign of a cold. He never broke a bone, and took great care to never scar.
His efforts paid off. One by one, the others were used up. 24-B ruined his liver with drink, and his heart with greasy food, but pampered his body with expensive lotions and creams. They took his skin after it hung loose on his frame after a few weeks on an all-liquid diet. 30-C had a keen intellect, a passion for History, and no concept of caring for his body – but his eyesight was excellent. They kept him for awhile, boosted his health bit by bit, picked and chose the very best bits.
Only the best for the Master.
That would not be his fate. He would be the complete package. He would be greater than the sum of his – the Master’s parts.
Perhaps then he would be chosen, and finally start to live.
***
The day came at last. He stumbled, gripped the nav console for support as 45-A’s mind fell away. It was just him. Him and –
“General?”
“Yes, Ren?” Hux snapped, half terrified, half excited. Two left, including him. No – Three? He shook himself, trying to clear his head. The quiet made his head hurt.
“You have been summoned to the Temple,” he said, with the air of one delivering a message. “I am to accompany you.”
Hux nodded, his heart in his throat. He felt Kylo’s eyes on him, accompanied by a low curl of curiosity.
“What is it?” he asked as they boarded the Knight’s shuttle.
“You talk in your sleep,” Kylo said, after a long pause. A shiver ran down Hux’s spine.
“How often?” he asked, quiet, carefully avoiding the other man’s eyes.
“Not for awhile now,” Kylo said. Hux swallowed.
“What do I say?”
I don’t want to know.
“Who is Ava?”
A wrinkled, still beautiful face, softened with sleep. A warm body, smaller without armor, curled against him, Force presence aglow with peace -
“No one,” he said.
Selfish bastard. Selfish dead bastard. You got what you deserved.
“Take off your helmet,” he heard himself say instead. Kylo tilted his head curiously, but complied. His hair was somehow flawlessly mussed, as always, his eyes dark and curious, and wearing that perpetually cocky grin. Hux knew not to mention how much he looked like his father when he smiled. He’d never get to see it again.
Now or never, he thought. He slid forward and kissed Kylo gently, just a brush of lips and breath. The Knight froze in shock. Hux smirked and dropped back into his seat.
“We’ve never actually kissed,” he said. Kylo swallowed, eyes wide. Then he surged forward, grasped the back of Hux’s head, and hauled him in for more.
They came up for air when the proximity warning sounded.
***
Devax was a dead world. Hux hadn’t seen it for years, and maybe it was because he was looking at it with adult eyes, but it was far more bleak than he remembered. Kylo trained on the surface with his Knights when he thought they’d been getting ‘soft’, but the actual Temple of Ren was deep underground. Hux stifled an amused chuckle. He had been deeper into the labyrinthine sanctum than any of the Knights and disciples, present company included.
It was also quite obvious that Kylo had no idea why an ‘outsider’ had been brought here.
Doesn’t even know what’s in his own temple, Hux thought. They stepped into the turbolift that would take them to the lower levels.
“You know where we’re going,” said Kylo. Hux nodded curtly. He pressed his palm to a hidden panel on the side of the lift. Kylo flinched as the control screen flashed red and the lift plummeted straight into the Inner Sanctum.