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(seconding anon, thank you for the idea of Hux in body paint. That was a gift and I took the idea and ran with it.)

Clearly being Supreme Leader hadn’t been enough for Snoke. The man had taken Hux’s quietly imperial thoughts and taken inspiration it seemed, naming himself emperor. The First Order had loved it, freeing themselves of desperate military state in a power vacuum into something legitimate. Snoke was no fool, shifting the footing of the government that gave him such power. And to endear himself to the people, to move from shadowy idea to present ruler, what better way than to legitimize himself with a marriage?

The Order’s favored General was now the Imperial Consort, young and handsome and the spring to the Emperor’s autumn.

Kylo, for his part, was still favored apprentice, but in this new imperial palace he was given a new task than on the star destroyer that had been his home for so long. Before he had forwarded the Supreme Leader’s goals, and now he protected the Emperor’s most precious possession. Supposedly an honor, to keep his Imperial Majesty Brendol Hux from being sullied by unworthy hands.

That day, like most, Brendol simply wandered through the palace. Imperial Consorts had nothing to do under Snoke’s new regime, it would seem, and Kylo hurt to follow two paces behind and see the man who had once done the impossible and directed stars to his bidding now waste away with nothing to do. His brilliant mind wasn’t being utilized as it should, and it suffered for it.

“Kylo,” called Brendol suddenly, and the Knight came to his side by the window, looking out over the gardens and towards the city that thrived under Snoke’s leadership. (Or so stories told, Kylo had never actually seen it, being assigned to protecting a man who hadn’t ever left the palace since the wedding. What a horrible thing that had been to see.)

“Yes, your imperial majesty?” he asked. It always managed to bring a small smile to Brendol’s lips to hear that, though it always faded when he remembered just how he had gained that title.

“No one but the emperor can touch me.” That was the only way Brendol referred to Snoke; the emperor, never once as his husband. That word rarely passed his lips, only ever to Snoke’s face.

“That is true, yes.”

“But you are to protect me.”

“Yes,” said Kylo, but slowly, uncertain where this was going. Brendol didn’t talk like this, stating the obvious unless he was guiding someone to a conclusion he had come to long ago.

“And if you have to touch me to protect me, the emperor will forgive you.”

“You are his most precious possession and I am to keep you whole and sound.” Brendol gave a little laugh at that, the sound harsh and painful enough to make Kylo wince in turn. The delicate way the Imperial Consort moved was not by nature nor design but rather necessity, born of the Emperor’s own tender hands.

“If that is true, then I expect you to keep to your duties.” It was said so calmly that Kylo didn’t understand what he meant until he started to climb out of the window. If Brendol were to fall, he would land on the paving stones of the gardens, his body broken ten floors below. If Brendol were to fall, Kylo would likely be put to death in turn. But the idea of his execution wasn’t what prompted Kylo to grasp Brendol around the waist and pull him back into the palace itself, his hands smudging the still wet paints that Snoke liked seeing Brendol decorated with, abstract geometric patterns that stood out so much from the man’s pale skin. They were smudged against Kylo’s own hands, turning them black with paint as he found himself with his arms full of the Imperial Consort that no one but the Emperor was to touch.

“If you wanted me to hold you, there was probably a better way to go about this,” managed Kylo finally, but Brendol, whose face was pressed into the juncture between Kylo’s neck and shoulder, said nothing.

The embrace was so familiar, from the old days when Brendol had still been General Hux, the widely admired leader who was at the forefront of the conflict with the Republic, and when Kylo had been between co-commander to this great man, a partnership to frighten the enemy and to demonstrate the Order’s strength. The embraces stolen in their quarters, the frantic play of kisses and of hands, the slide of skin against skin in tumbles in the sheets, those were forgotten long ago, left behind on a destroyed superweapon. Now all there was left was this, the embrace of a protector who had pulled a consort away to safety.

But oh, how could they help but pretend?

“You need to have these redone,” said Kylo when they had separated, not quite letting go entirely yet, holding Brendol’s shoulders, his thumb running over a pattern of triangles and only smudging them further. Neither wanted to leave this singular moment, despite duty telling them they had to. The idea of what Snoke would do if he saw the smudged paint and Kylo’s stained hands was enough that they didn’t linger as much as they wanted to.

Neither expected Snoke to be in the apartments, though.

“Who touched you?” demanded the Emperor to see his consort’s designs sullied. (As if Brendol was a pretty bird to be kept in a cage, admired for his pattern and loved for how quietly he sat on the Emperor’s finger.) “You slut, who did you let touch you?”

For all that Brendol was supposedly Snoke’s cherished spouse and beloved beyond all else, the smallest of perceived slights sent Snoke into a rage that he could have avoided had he simply plucked out the memory. And for all that Kylo was to protect Brendol from all harm and keep him whole and sound, he couldn’t do anything when the Emperor touched his consort.

Brendol was a brilliant man, and had managed to talk down plenty of irate dissidents, but there was simply no reasoning with Snoke on this betrayal of letting another touch his consort. “Master,” tried Kylo, stepping forward, “your consort didn’t–” he was cut off by a swift reprimand in the Force, a strike more potent than any delivered by a hand could be.

Snoke didn’t even acknowledge Kylo beyond that reprimand, too busy digging his hands into Brendol’s wrists and saying, “Do I not satisfy you? Is having an emperor not enough for you?”

“Husband,” tried Brendol, the hated word crossing his lips to try and calm the man crushing his wrists.

His wrist was released when Snoke struck Brendol with a closed fist, the motion cruel. It shocked Brendol into silence, and his only response to the back handed slap that followed was a quiet rush of air. Kylo couldn’t do a thing to stop him, both as apprentice and as subject, but through the Force he showed Snoke the image of pulling Brendol away from the window where he had nearly fell. The fact that Brendol had climbed out himself was carefully shadowed.

The strikes stilled then, Snoke’s hand still raised to deliver another blow to his cherished consort. There was a long period of silence, before the hand lowered and the Emperor said, voice calm, “You performed your duties well, Kylo. Take Brendol to wash himself. And next time, do let the paint dry before you go too close to any high windows. I don’t want to have to hit my consort again.”

Brendol, for his part, had gone still and silent and yet by Kylo’s orders he couldn’t lead him away. And yet Kylo had to obey his master and emperor’s orders, and with a heavy pit in his stomach he ordered with a push from the Force, “You will follow me.”

“I will follow you,” murmured Brendol in return, following behind Kylo to the baths. They were opulent, just like everything else in the palace, and Brendol looked small in them, dwarfed by the high ceilings and size of the pools of warm water. Still, he sank into one, and began to clean himself off while Kylo sat at the edge, watching.

“Why do you let him do that?” asked Kylo, passing the man a bar of thyme scented soap (Brendol’s favorite, not that he’d admit it out loud).

“The same reason you do,” said Brendol, taking it and washing off the geometric patterns, the paint spreading like oil through the water, staining it even as the man in it grew cleaner. “There’s nothing I can do to stop him. I do not want to see us fall to disorder again, Kylo. The Order was born of nothing but desperate men trying to fill a vacuum of power, and what we’ve built is the only thing keeping the people from suffering. I once dreamed of being emperor, doing what Snoke has done to provide for those who seek protection. And if…if my life is the price for that, so be it. If my unhappiness means stability and prosperity then I will suffer to my last breath and not once complain.”

Kylo watched him a long moment before saying, “Come here. You’re washing off the paint anyway.” And just like that the soap was abandoned and Brendol was in Kylo’s arms again, dripping wet and kissing Kylo. It was almost like they remembered, but there remained the problem that Snoke kept his consort in very little clothing, showing off what was his and what none could touch. And Brendol hated being exposed, and were things how they used to be Kylo would never be so dressed while Brendol’s skin was laid so bare.

But in that moment, it didn’t matter, just holding one another and kissing as though they never could again, and that might even be true. “If I get the chance,” breathed Kylo between kisses, “I’ll kill him. He doesn’t have an heir, you’ll take over. You’ll be emperor as you should be.”

“Don’t. Don’t. Please. If you kill him then you’ll be killed and I couldn’t-I can’t…I can’t reign fully as widower, and with no heir there’s no…Kylo I agreed to marry the emperor to legitimize his regime, to provide for our people. Don’t destroy this. I signed away my life willingly for my people, don’t make that sacrifice worthless.”

You shouldn’t have had to sacrifice anything. Kylo wanted to say that more than anything, but he didn’t. He knew his once-lover too well for that. He wouldn’t want to hear it, and so he would not say it. Instead, he carefully helped Brendol wash himself clean, and for those few precious moments before the paints would be reapplied he held the man who had once been his, savoring holding that familiar body that was forbidden to be touched by any but Snoke. Each second was a death sentence, but he couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but cradle him close and wish with all his heart that things were different.

But wishing achieved nothing and stolen moments courting the emperor’s wrath were all they had, and they had to be content with that, even when it was to Snoke’s bed and not Kylo’s that Brendol retired to each night. Kylo had learned long ago where to press kisses and caresses to make Brendol melt, and to give that knowledge to Snoke before the wedding night had been, at the time, the most painful thing Kylo had ever been called upon to do.

He had learned he was wrong multiple times over since; seeing Brendol move with such delicacy to not aggravate any injuries he was given, following two paces behind Brendol’s listless wanderings, standing near the thrones at public audiences and seeing how Snoke held Brendol’s hand in casual display of what was his, and watching the favored patterns of paint be spread across his thin body by a precise droid, so that no hands could touch him. Mathematical fractals adorned the pale body that Kylo had once known so well, infinitely delicate patterns that would be too obviously disturbed and that locked away those precious moments of touch as effectively as any cage.

Brendol Hux had been transformed from proud First Order General into a pretty bird of a consort, and he had locked himself away by agreeing to the marriage, not that he had had any choice. And now that the cage was sealed and the only key held by the emperor’s unkind hands, there was nothing Kylo could do, no matter how hard he wished or prayed.

This is gorgeous.

(second anon here) That was beautiful and lovely and tragic and I loved it <3

Oh, that hurt.

just shoot me in the heart whydoncha

Pyrrhic af ;_;

OP: omg I just saw this and it was beautiful and perfect and all things good. So bittersweet and angsty. What you did with the body paint and Hux trying to kill himself were lovely. And I giggled and clapped like a seal at the little Mummy references. I was SO hoping Kylo would go Imhotep and kill Snoke, but what you did was better in the worst (most painful, that is) way.

This just made my morning eeeee

Ok but then Ren didn't listen and killed Snoke anyway, right?? I can't stand the alternative, proud General reduced to a decorative consort T-T

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PROMPT POST #4

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[FILL] Unsullied and Untouched

Re: [FILL] Unsullied and Untouched

Re: [FILL] Unsullied and Untouched

Re: [FILL] Unsullied and Untouched

Re: [FILL] Unsullied and Untouched

Re: [FILL] Unsullied and Untouched

Re: [FILL] Unsullied and Untouched

Re: [FILL] Unsullied and Untouched