#but i was tearing out my hair scratchy style trying to figure out the highlights & the colors for them

[blooky8]

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[sithsecrets]

A Matter of Expediency - Part VI

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

—

Part 6

4k words

Mentions: swearing

—

You rise early on the morning of your wedding, too anxious to lie in bed any longer as you watch the sun creep up in the sky. It’ll be hours before it’s time for you to get dressed, and you know good and well that your ladies are still fast asleep. Lydia’s never been a morning person, Joon stayed up late playing cards, and Helda had to be practically poured into her bed by the time dinner ended. It looks like it’ll just be you for a while, so you start hunting for ways to occupy your time. Nervous energy thrums through your entire body, and you’re plagued with the urge to pace about the room until your legs give out. You decide that a walk on the beach might do you good instead, so you set out on the sand, not bothering to change out of your nightgown.

The morning sun is gentle and warm on your back as you walk along the shore, letting the salty water of the ocean lave over your feet and ankles as you did last night. This place really is paradise, you think wistfully, smiling to yourself as you observe some marine life further out. The creatures jump out of the water together, seemingly playing a game of chase, and you consider the event a good omen.

A bit less anxious after some time outside, you head back up to your rooms, glad to see that a breakfast buffet of sorts has been laid out for you in your absence. It’s far too much food for you to eat alone, but you figure that the resort staff has considered the fact that your ladies may come to eat with you as well. You nibble on some fruit and a pastry, unable to eat much because of your remaining jitters.

You’re salty and windswept from being out by the water, and though no one is here to help you, you decide to take a bath anyway. It ends up being nice, soaking in the warm water alone as you languidly wash and cleanse your body. Though bathing does help you relax a little bit, you still can’t help but think of what’s to come as you exfoliate. You’ll be a married woman in just a few hours’ time, and tonight, you’ll retire to your marital bed with your husband. Surely the Supreme Leader is expecting that the two of you will lie together, and the mere notion of that makes your heart pound. You feel totally helpless, lacking in sexual experience of any kind, and you fear that you won’t be able to please him. Both Lydia and Joon have said that it’s not that difficult to make a man happy in bed, but you’re still incredibly unsure of yourself. So, to compensate, you’ve decided that it would be best for you to make your body as soft and appealing as possible. You may not know what to do with your body, but you would die if Kylo lost interest in you simply because he ran his hands over a patch of scratchy dry skin.

Out of the tub, your crusade to make yourself appealing continues, and you slather yourself in lotion and moisturizer. At the end of it all, every inch of your body is silky and soft, and that makes you feel just the slightest bit more confident.

You snack on some more food after you’re done bathing, munching on fruit and toast until your ladies finally come stumbling into your chambers. Helda complains of a headache, calling the rest of you cruel when you snicker at the fact that she’s hungover. Your ladies graze on the spread that was laid out for you earlier, practically force-feeding Helda toast and fruit so that she’ll feel a bit better. You nibble on some cheese and berries, eating because you know you need to— passing out in the middle of your own wedding would be too mortifying to bear.

Finally, the time comes for the lot of you to begin getting dressed. As always, Lydia does everyone’s hair, making quick work of styling Joon, Helda, and herself before she sits you down in the chair. Lydia is much more deliberate in her work with you, twisting and combing your hair carefully, pinning with purpose and a strategic touch. When she’s finished with you, your hair is sleek and elegant, drawn into an intricate knot at the back of you head. It’s so different from you’re your usual loose, carefree hairdos, and you touch the hairstyle lightly, experimentally.

Lydia must mistake the gesture for one indicative of a disliking for what she’s done. “I thought it would look rather pretty with your dress. You said that they’re going to call you ‘Empress,’ and I thought the look would complement your new title,” she tells you. “But if you don’t like it, there’s plenty of time for me to start over.”

“No,” you say quickly, not wanting her to remove a single hairpin, “no. I love it. I just… It just makes me feel different is all.”

You know what you’ve said is strange, but no one mentions it as Joon starts on everyone’s makeup. Like Lydia, she fixes up herself and the other ladies quickly, brushing on a few light washes of color and calling the whole thing done. With you, of course, she takes her time, working with her own face close to yours as she defines your features and paints you prettily. And stars, Joon is a talented artist, for when she’s finished with your makeup, you look radiant. None of what she’s put on your face is heavy or overbearing, but every subtle highlight and shadow works together to make you look regal, sultry— you don’t think you’ve ever looked this good in your life.

“You’re a witch, Joon,” you state, unable to tear your eyes away from your reflection.

“Well, I just did my best,” Joon says with a humble shrug, but the little smile on her mouth tells you that she’s rather pleased with herself.

With your hair and makeup done, the time has come for you to get into your dress. Lydia and Joon steady you as you step into the garment, guiding your legs through the layers of fabric so that you don’t tear your train by accident. Helda’s the one who really dresses you, though, working diligently behind your back to fasten up the dozens of little buttons that run down your spine. She has the smallest hands out of all of you, and the girl has always had a talent for tedious tasks such as this one.

After a few short minutes, Helda steps back pronouncing you dressed. Everyone is quiet for a moment after she says this, studying you in the mirror.

“Well,” Joon says softly, “I guess that’s that.”

You aren’t sure what she means, but you understand nonetheless.

“You look beautiful, Princess,” Lydia declares.

“A real vision,” Joon adds quickly, and Helda nods.

“Thank you,” you say, distracted by your own appearance.

One would think you vain, studying yourself so intently in the mirror, but it’s not your beauty that has you fixated. You hardly recognize yourself like this, though you’ve gotten dressed up for many events in the past. But there’s something different about this time, something different about you. You look like a queen instead of a princess, like a woman who commands attention.

“Thank you,” you repeat, “thank you all. I look incredible, really.”

“He’s going to die when he sees you,” Lydia affirms, coming to take your hands. Joon and Helda clasp their palms over Lydia fingers, smiling up at you with a tinge of sadness. Suddenly, you realize that this is it, this is the last time that you’ll all be together in this way.

“It’s been an honor to serve you, Princess,” Helda tells you, and you try your very hardest to blink the tears out of your eyes. It wouldn’t do to ruin Joon’s work, not when the wedding is coming so quickly.

“It’s been an honor to be served by all of you,” you say, talking around a lump in your throat. You break into a tearful smile, looking a Joon, Helda, and Lydia in turn.

There’s so much more that you want to say, but you don’t get the chance. A knock at the door breaks your moment, and you know immediately that it’s your escort come to retrieve you.

“I have to go,” you say quickly, stepping away from the mirror. Joon tails you to the door, straightening the train of your gown and checking your hair one last time.

And with that, you’re gone, off to become a married woman.

---

Your wedding ceremony feels like a dream. All you can really remember of it is faces, the faces of the guests as they watched you walk down the aisle, the face of the officiant, Kylo’s face as he recited his vows to you. Kylo’s face, and the warmth of his hands, and the quick kiss that the two of you shared once you were pronounced husband and wife. Everything else, though, that’s a complete blur. You don’t remember your vows, or what instruments were played as you walked in, or even what Kylo said as he promised himself to you.

You and your husband are whisked to the reception almost immediately, though you are pulled into a side room for photographs. A woman dressed in plain, official clothes poses you and Kylo stiffly, snapping pictures of you smiling and not smiling, of you seated and not seated. Your husband doesn’t speak to you during any of this, and you’re thankful— you don’t think you could form a coherent sentence right now if you tried, too overwhelmed by everything that’s just happened.

The reception is indoor/outdoor, set in a richly decorated hall with a terrace and access to the beach. You and Kylo are greeted with cheers and applause, and the noise of it all is loud enough to make the building shudder. Before you can so much as catch your breath and get your bearings, Kylo’s taking you aside to a receiving area. Two members of the Imperial Guard stand behind you and your husband, supervising guests that come to talk to both of you. Person after person, couple after couple approach where you’re seated, and all of them congratulate you warmly. Kylo already knows most of the people that come your way, but your head is swimming with new names and faces. By the time the line clears, you feel like you’ve just downed a bottle of strong wine.

Kylo gives you his arm when the two of you get ready to leave the receiving area, and you’re happy to have something solid to lean on. Your head thrums with a dull ache, and you find yourself wishing you had eaten more earlier. And of course, your mind spirals with thoughts of all of the interactions you’ve just had, thoughts of all the important people you just met. Anxious, you hope that you made a good impression, thinking of how Kylo said he needed a “second face” for the Order. And that would be just your luck, wouldn’t it, fucking up your new job on the very first night?

“You’re doing very well,” your husband whispers suddenly, and his words send a chill down your back. In your nervous tizzy, you forgot completely that the Supreme Leader can easily read your mind, and your heart pounds at the thought of him knowing how anxious you are.

Your shock and fear must show on your face because the look in Kylo’s eyes softens to something more apologetic. “You are,” he presses, and you can see that he means it. Kylo’s compliment instills you with just a little more confidence, and you straighten your back, grabbing on a little tighter to his arm as the two of you go walking about the room.

Finally, it comes time to eat. The sun is slipping down as everyone moves to their seats, and you’re grateful to sit down. Kylo helps you into your chair before moving to sit down himself, an unexpected gesture that you find rather sweet.

“I’m starving,” you tell him, just to make polite conversation. You and Kylo haven’t talked much since the two of you wed, more focused on entertaining guests than anything else. Kylo turns to look at you, to really look at you. You’re not sure if you’re doing a poor job of schooling your expression or if Kylo can simply sense your feelings, but he somehow knows that you’re overwhelmed nonetheless.

“The hard part is over,” he says to you seriously, speaking quietly so that only you can hear him. “We get to relax now.”

You’re not sure that Kylo Ren’s ever relaxed in his life, but you decide to take his word for it regardless. Before you can say anything else, two servants approach the both of you from behind, setting your food down in front of you without a word. When everyone’s been served, Kylo stands, and a hush falls over the room.

“Friends,” he declares, “allies. I thank you all for being here tonight to witness this union between myself and your Empress.”

Your pulse quickens at his use of your new title, but you try to paint a pleasant expression on your face as you watch your husband speak.

“Tonight marks an auspicious new beginning for the Order. I believe that with the Empress’s help, we will be able to expand our organization and bring even more prosperity and stability to the galaxy.”

Thunderous applause erupt in the room, and it takes several seconds for everyone to quiet themselves. When things are silent again, your husband looks down at you, his goblet held aloft towards your guests. The look you see in his eyes escapes description, but you cannot help but feel that there is something akin to passion swirling behind his irises. Or maybe it’s lust… You aren’t entirely sure.

“To the Empress,” calls the Supreme Leader.

“To the Empress!” echoes the room, and everyone drinks to the toast.

Kylo never breaks your gaze as he takes a long drag off of his glass, moving to sit down as he does so. You think that you should say something, anything, but every word dies right as it reaches your tongue.

Despite the nervous buzz in your veins, you eat ravenously, your need for food too strong to be ignored now. Kylo eats with as just much vigor, probably as hungry as you are. He drinks wine with his meal, but not to excess. You try to be as mindful of your alcohol consumption as well, thinking it would be best to be sober for tonight.

After dinner is cleared away, a band begins playing cheerful, fast music, and many of your guests flock to the center of the room to dance. You spot Helda, Lydia, and Joon amongst them, and your heart yearns to join your friends in their merrymaking.

“Do you dance?” you ask Kylo, turning to look at him. Your husband looks rather taken aback by the question, so you’re not surprised by his answer.

“No,” he says quickly, “not at all. I’m not good, and I don’t like it.”

His answer deals you a crushing blow, and you settle your hands in your lap a bit solemnly. “Oh,” you say softly, trying to hide your sadness, “well that’s good to know.”

The look on Kylo’s face changes, becomes more nervous. “But you’re more than welcome to,” he blurts. “I mean, don’t let me hold you back.”

Under different circumstances, you would have been out on the floor already, but you feel obligated to stay with your husband. This is your wedding, after all.

“Are you sure? I feel bad leaving you here by yourself,” you tell Kylo, but you’re already itching to join in the fray.

“Please,” Kylo affirms, and with that, you’re up and out of your seat.

Joon, Helda, and Lydia squeal when you find them out on the floor, all of them crushing you into a big hug all at once. It’s hard to hear them over the noise, but you manage to catch all of the compliments that they throw your way before the lot of you go galivanting across the dancefloor, twirling and spinning and jumping and holding hands with one another.

After a few songs, a young officer cuts in, asking shyly if Helda would like to dance. She accepts, and just as she goes to leave, Joon’s boyfriend comes and whisks her away as well. You and Lydia stand to the side of all the dancers now, panting and grinning, flushed with joy.

“Let’s get some air,” Lydia suggests, red in the face. Sweat beads at her hairline, and you’re sure that you’re in a similar state.

“And some water,” you add. Lydia nods in agreement, and then you’re turning around, trying to meet your husband’s eye. Your heart jumps a bit when you see that he’s already looking at you, but you don’t say anything, merely throwing your head Lydia’s way and pointing towards the doors that lead outside. He seems to understand what you mean, nodding calmly. You flash him a smile, and though Kylo doesn’t return the gesture, you like to think that you see softness in his eyes.

Someone’s taken the liberty of placing lights outside so that your wedding guests may enjoy the beach, even under the cover of darkness. You and Lydia manage to slip away from the crowd, glasses of water in hand as you traipse across the sand. As you move farther and farther away from the resort, everything grows darker, your path mostly lit by moonlight now.

“The Supreme Leader thinks that you make quite the pretty picture,” Lydia says to you, a fistful of her dress clutched in one hand. You roll your eyes at that, but you’re glad that it’s too dim for her to see you blushing.

“I would like to think so,” you murmur, thinking of how your husband looked at you as he gave his pre-dinner speech,

“Oh, you don’t have to think,” Lydia teases, “because I know for sure. He’s been staring at you all night long.”

The idea of that pleases you, but you try not to let it go to your head, giving Lydia a little shove as she laughs at you.

“I’m just saying that I don’t think you’ll have any trouble endearing yourself to him,” she says, still grinning. “He seems to think a lot of you already.”

“I know.” You’re still murmuring, shy under Lydia’s suggestions.

After a few seconds of companionable silence, Lydia suddenly stops short, turning to look at you. She’s thrown into shadow, almost featureless under the light of the moon, and the way she’s holding herself is strange. Before you can ask her what’s wrong, she speaks.

“Still, it’s not too late to back out,” your friend states. Only now do you realize how far away you are from the resort, how alone the both of you are.

You stare at her for a moment, raising your chin appraisingly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Lydia says, taking a step closer, “that this stretch of beach goes all out to a bit of untamed, uninhabited land. If we kept walking, it would take some time before someone came looking for us. We could be anywhere by then.”

Coming from anyone else, her suggestion would be appalling. But this is Lydia, and you know what happened to her when she got married.

“I’ll be just fine, Lydia,” you say quickly, reaching out to caress her arm. “Thank you. Thank you for thinking of me like that. Thank you for being willing to stick your neck out. But you don’t have to. I can handle myself. I’m going to be okay, I promise.”

And really, you think that you will be. The Supreme Leader does not seem so terrible, and you feel like you could figure all of this out if you try hard enough.

Lydia gazes at you for a moment, and then she reaches out to squeeze your hand. “If you ever want to leave, all you have to do is contact me. I’ll figure out a way to rescue you, no matter where you are or who you’re with. I’m not afraid of any of those people.”

Your friend could be executed for treason if anyone heard her talking like this. You cannot believe how fortunate you are to have someone that loves you so much.

“I’ll be fine,” you reiterate, squeezing Lydia’s hand even harder than she squeezed yours.

---

Back inside, you say goodbye to your friends. It’s bittersweet, exchanging hugs with all of them, aware that you won’t be seeing them for quite some time. But, none of you cry to blatantly in front of the other guests, so you consider the whole thing a success.

You go back to your husband, plopping down into your chair tiredly. Your feet ache, and wisps of hair have come loose form your updo.

“Did you enjoy dancing?” Kylo asks you lightly, eyes flitting to where your hand tucks a piece of your hair back into place. You smile weakly but brightly.

“Oh yes,” you say, laughing airily. “I’m exhausted now, though.”

“If you’re tired, I can have a group of guards take you back to the ship,” Kylo offers, and you cannot help but feel that he’s nervous to be speaking to you like this. His gloved hands fidget, eyes darting away from your face for just a moment.

You’re taken aback by this, having not thought of your wedding night for hours now. Though your initial impulse is to decline, you see that it’s growing late. You have to do this eventually, you know that, so you might as well rip the bandage off now.

“Yes,” you say, “that would be all right with me. Are you coming along as well, or…?”

“No,” Kylo says quickly, folding his hands in his lap. “I thought you would like a moment to yourself. You can go now, and I’ll follow shortly.”

You only nod at that, but you’re glad to see that Kylo’s feeling just as shy about all of this. Still, he steels expression as he motions to two imperial guards, blunt and commanding as he orders them to take you to your transport vessel. The two guards do so wordlessly, not speaking to you or even to the Supreme Leader as they escort you out of the room.

You’re loaded onto a small, light aircraft manned by only a single pilot. The guards climb aboard as well, sitting across from you with their weapons at the ready. You get the feeling that they’re there to protect you more than they are to intimidate you, but you find them off-putting anyway. You’ve always known stormtroopers to be friendly and sociable, but you assume that members of the Imperial Guard are held to a higher standard, that they’re people of a different breed. Still, you think that they could stand to say or do something to make them seem a bit more human.

The Supremacy is the biggest craft you’ve ever seen, a virtual city floating out in the blackness of space. As your vessel lands on one of the ship’s many decks, you wonder how you’ll ever find your way around this place, already panicked by the notion of getting lost onboard. Still, you try to keep your cool as you disembark, thanking your pilot and the guards graciously.

A small party is waiting for you upon landing, just a couple of stormtroopers and a woman who displays no insignia or rank of any kind. She’s older, old enough to be someone’s mother, and she wears her graying hair in a tight, slick knot at the nape of her neck. Dressed in shapeless black clothing, one might find this woman unremarkable at first glance.

“Empress,” she says, curtsying deeply. The stormtroopers also bow, acknowledging your arrival. “My name is Miriam. I am here to serve you.”