The Scarred - Chapter 8

“Terrifier” - Art the Clown

‘Serenity’ Prologue

Masterlist

Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.

-

Nimble fingers stitched the thicker fabric with ease, the thread flowing through with years of technique and precision. The movement resembled that of water, calm and patient. A knot was tied at the end and the remaining string snipped. The woman stood back from the mannequin to examine her handiwork, a soft smile gracing her features in approval.

“Pa?” A low grumble met her ears. “Madame Caffe’s dress is ready.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” The woman held in her sigh, head kept downcast as she passed by the grumpy father to the front of their stand.

“Here you go, miss.” The dress was delicately placed into the older woman’s arms.

“How much?”

“One lev.” The customer grumbled and placed the coins into her hand. The seamstress just sighed and put it away, making her way back into the petite shop.

“You seen your mother yet?”

“Not yet.” She turned to see her worrying father and offered a weak smile of reassurance. “The market’s probably more busy than usual, is all.” The woman collected stray fabrics, throwing them into a nearby basket.

“Yeah, whatever.” Her father waved off with another grumble. She waited a few seconds longer to see if he had anything else to say, then sat down at her sewing bench to resume a side project. She threaded the machine, adjusting the fabric so it rested beneath it just the way she wanted before she began pumping with her foot.

The fabric moved steadily beneath her hands, losing herself in the sound of her most prized possession. She was almost finished with her fourth section when she heard a loud crash behind her. She shrieked when the needle stabbed through her fingertip, yanking away from the machine. Hand clutched to her chest she grabbed bandages and a bottle of alcohol from nearby to quickly dress the wound.

When she finished she turned towards the cause of panic to see her father stood angrily over a ‘fallen’ mannequin, clenching and unclenching his fists. She began to take deeper breaths, almost panting as she watched the scene before her anxiously. Refusing to make eye contact with the man, her finger throbbed heavily. Nothing she couldn’t handle as far as she was concerned. He mumbled something incoherently.

“Pa -?”

“Where is she!” He thrashed, swiping one of their end tables clean as everything on top of it cluttered to the floor. “Where is she!” He continued. The seamstress began to creep her way to the entrance of the shop, her father’s shouts turning into sobs by the time she was able to leave. She aimlessly wandered through the plaza to the markets and shops in search of her mother, bystanders looking on in irritation or disgust as she passed. She sighed in relief at the sight of her, water pooling in her eyes.

“Ma!”

“Mary? Liebling, whatever is the matter?”

“Pa, he - he’s having a fit, he -“ She cut herself off in panic as she tried to catch her breath. Her mother quickly paid the man she was talking to and brought them to a corner away from prying eyes.

“Oh, dear,” She took a cloth and wiped her daughter’s face. “What’s he on about this time?”

“You.” She sniffed and felt her mother’s hand still. “He was getting worried because you were taking a while, I tried to reason with him, but he just - he - he wouldn’t -“

“You did what you could, liebling. Don’t you worry.” She gently pushed her basket into Mary’s hands to which she accepted. “Now, do me a favor and finish up the shopping for me. I’ll handle your father.”

“Ma -“

“I don’t want to hear it. The longer we wait the worse he’ll get, you know how he is.” She gave Mary a quick kiss on the side of her head.

“Be careful.” Her mother nodded and turned to leave, rushing back home as Mary watched her figure disappear in the thinning crowd. She hesitated to leave, then decided it was best she didn’t stall any longer and made her way back to the market.

By the time she finished the sun was setting and most stands were closing down. All that was left on the streets were stragglers either going on a stroll or rushing back to their own homes. She held the basket closer to herself when she caught sight of their oh-so-humble abode, stalking as she entered. Seeing no one in the shop, she cautiously walked up the small ladder-like stairs to their living area and peaked into the room. Her parents sat at the dining table eating their dinner quietly. Though it was anything but a comfortable silence.

Mary finished climbing and made her way over to their cupboard to put away what was in the basket, doing her best to make as little noise as humanly possible. A chair screeched along the wooden floor that jolted her, footsteps growing louder behind her to place dishes in the nearby sink before they faded into a different room. She took a deep breath in relief, turning to face her mother when she noticed a bruise starting to form on her wrist.

Chapter 9

Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader

*Set prior to The Force Awakens*

Summary -

Forged in blood. Bound by duty. Broken by desire.

(Y/n) (L/n) is a deadly Umbral of the Covenant - an elite order of vampires sworn to the First Order. Her assignment: serve as General Hux's personal guard. But as buried secrets surface and a rogue vampire faction rises, (Y/n) is forced to confront a past she can't outrun - and feelings she was never meant to have.

In a war of blood, betrayal, and duty, the deadliest threat may be the one that lies still in her chest.

Series contains - Blood, violence, battles/war, betrayal/angst, eventual smut, slow burn

Armitage stirred first, blinking against the soft light as his senses came back to him one by one. The weight of a body against his side registered next. Cold. Solid. The absence of breathing a unique reminder of who it was.

He turned his head slightly.

(Y/n) lay beside him, half-buried beneath the sheets, hair tumbled and unbound, one arm rested upon his chest with her head tucked under his chin. Her expression, usually composed and sharpened by discipline, was peaceful. It was a version of her he’d never seen before, one reserved for these rare, unguarded moments.

He didn’t move for a long time. Just watched her.

He wasn’t sure what surprised him more. That she had let him this close… or that he had allowed himself to meet her there.

Her eyes fluttered open, slow and amber in the dim light. For a heartbeat, she looked at him as if unsure whether the moment was real. Then she gave the faintest smile, quiet and reserved, but unmistakably genuine.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, voice still husky with sleep.

“It’s difficult not to.” He admitted, not bothering to look away. 

She raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t push. Instead, she shifted so her head was resting on the curve of his shoulder.

There was silence again, comfortable.

Eventually, (Y/n) broke it. “I thought I’d feel conflicted,” she said quietly, “But I don’t.”

He glanced at her, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Good to know that we’re on the same page, then.”

Another pause. 

Then he leaned in slowly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “We should be on the bridge soon.”

(Y/n) sighed. “Let’s give it five more minutes.”

“Five,” he agreed softly. “But no more.”

After they finished getting ready and checking in for updates at the bridge, the two of them made their way to the general’s office. 

Just as they settled themselves, the door hissed open with its usual sharp efficiency. 

Phasma entered first - polished and imposing in her chrome armor - followed by Varo with a datapad clutched in his hand.

Hux and (Y/n) stood behind his desk patiently as they approached. And if there was any tension lingering from the intimacy of the previous night, neither showed it. 

(Y/n) stood tall in her uniform, hair pulled back to perfection, eyes sharp once again. Though Varo’s knowing glance didn’t miss the faint glow in her complexion. He said nothing, but a smug grin tugged briefly at the corner of his mouth.

“General. Umbral,” Phasma greeted coolly, giving a slight nod of acknowledgment.

“Report?” Hux requested. 

“We finished processing the remaining rogue prisoners last night,” Phasma said, her voice smooth and unyielding. “Nothing useful from three of them. Too scared or too loyal to give us anything beyond what we already know. But one of them slipped.”

Varo stepped up, tapping on the datapad and projecting a faint holo display over the table. “One of the younger ones mentioned a location unintentionally. They were arguing with one of the guards and let it slip while cursing about ‘wasting time near the dead moon.’ We cross-referenced it with known Resistance supply routes.”

“We found activity consistent with a hidden relay station,” Phasma finished. “It’s remote, but its location makes it a perfect fallback point for the remaining rogues and potentially their leader.”

(Y/n)’s jaw tightened, her eyes flicking over the projection. “Dead moon… That’s near the Obraxis Veil. It’s unstable territory.”

“Exactly,” Varo said. “Which means anyone hiding there is either desperate or confident that they won’t be followed.”

Hux’s expression darkened. “We can’t afford to ignore this. If they’re regrouping, it means their leader could already be en route.”

“They will be,” (Y/n) said quietly. “This wasn’t just an attack. It was a distraction.”

Phasma’s tone didn’t waver. “We’ll need to act soon, sir. If you authorize it, we can begin planning a strike team. Smaller, mobile, precise.”

Hux nodded once. “Begin preparations with both your Troopers and the Covenant. I want operational parameters ready within six hours.”

“Yes, sir,” Phasma replied crisply before turning and exiting without another word.

Varo lingered just a beat longer. “I’ll coordinate and have them ready to deploy.” His gaze drifted briefly to (Y/n), and he added with a quiet smirk, “You good?”

She gave a tight nod. “Good.”

With a short salute, Varo followed Phasma out, the office door hissing shut behind him.

Silence settled again between Hux and (Y/n), the weight of the intel heavy in the air.

“This is accelerating,” Hux said lowly.

(Y/n) nodded. “They’re forcing our hand.”

He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, then said softly, “Then we’ll make sure we’re ready.”

Once again, the two found themselves inside the briefing room, lit only by the soft blue glow of the encrypted holoprojector in the center of the room. 

General Hux stood with his hands clasped behind his back, face expressionless but alert. (Y/n) stood to his right, arms folded, sharp-eyed and composed. Though her posture was rigid, Hux could feel the tension beneath it. 

The holoprojector hummed to life, flickering before stabilizing into two distinct projections. On one side, the tall, imposing form of the Supreme Leader of the First Order emerged in holographic light. His features were partially obscured, but the cold, piercing eyes were unmistakable.

On the other, the figure of the Covenant’s Grand Master took shape. Tall and regal, skin pallid like marble and eyes ancient with knowledge. His ornate robes flowed with ethereal stillness, and the emblem of the Covenant pulsed faintly across his chest.

“General,” the Supreme Leader greeted, allowing the briefing to start.

Hux nodded once and spoke clearly. “The rogue Covenant group we engaged has yielded new information. Through interrogation, we’ve confirmed the existence of a possible fallback position used by the rogues near the Obraxis Veil. We believe their leader may be regrouping their forces there due to the complexity of the location and growing activity that intelligence is collecting.”

The Grand Master tilted his head slightly, voice like cold velvet. “And you are confident in the validity of this information?”

“Yes, Grand Master,” (Y/n) answered. “The source was… resistant. But they broke. We believe this was a coordinated distraction meant to divide our attention.”

The Supreme Leader’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Then you’ll deal with it before they can mount anything further. I expect a clean strike.”

“We’re already preparing a mobile unit,” Hux confirmed. “Captain Phasma and Umbral Drenn are coordinating troop selection. The Covenant will be deployed in tandem.”

The Grand Master’s gaze slid to (Y/n). “And what of the interrogation personally? Did it provide anything else of value?”

(Y/n) hesitated for half a breath, but her voice remained steady. “There were personal complications. But they didn’t interfere with the mission. The prisoner is being held for further interrogation, should more be needed.”

The Grand Master’s expression barely shifted, but something flickered in his eyes. Understanding, or perhaps warning. “Complications have a way of multiplying, Umbral (L/n). Ensure they do not cloud your purpose.”

“They won’t, Grand Master.” (Y/n) said, cool and resolute.

The Supreme Leader’s hologram leaned forward slightly. “You’ve been granted considerable support, General. Further proving alliance with the Covenant remains necessary. I want results. Fast.”

“You’ll have them, Supreme Leader.” Hux replied without hesitation.

The two projections exchanged one final glance. The Supreme Leader and Grand Master both united in purpose if not in ideology. Then, in perfect synchronicity, they cut transmission. The holoprojector dimmed, and silence returned to the room.

(Y/n) exhaled slowly. “They don’t trust us.”

“No,” Hux said quietly. “But they’ll trust what we deliver.”

He turned towards her, and for a brief moment, their expressions softened. 

“I should brief my soldiers now. I’m sure they’re itching to get more information on what exactly is happening.” (Y/n) nearly complained as she picked up her datapad to contact Varo.

Unsurprisingly, he immediately picked up. 

“Yeah, boss?” He greeted in his usual casual tone. 

“Gather the Covenant into the briefing room. I want to go over the new intel with them.” 

“You got it. I’ll make sure they’re there in 15.” The screen blipped, signaling the call ending. 

(Y/n) rubbed at her forehead with a sigh, her arm dropping down by her side. 

“Tired?” Hux quipped with a tinge of playfulness, hinting at their activities from the night prior. (Y/n) tossed him a look and he raised a brow at her defiance. 

Minutes later, just as Varo had said, the Duskborns stood in formation around the briefing table, tall and cloaked. 

(Y/n) stood at the head of the table, Varo and Hux stepping to the far side of the room, choosing to remain out of the spotlight. 

(Y/n)’s eyes scanned the room as each Duskborn straightened under her gaze, a mix of respect and readiness resonating in the still air.

“This mission will not be simple,” (Y/n) began, her tone clipped and clear. “The faction knows they’ve been exposed and - as we all know - desperation makes people dangerous.”

A soft hum from the holotable populated a projection. (Y/n) gestured to a narrowed valley system just outside of a decommissioned relay tower. “These are their projected fallback coordinates. Intel confirms their leader is still unaccounted for, but we anticipate they will return once the rogues transmit the message of unresponsive personnel.”

She looked up, sharp eyes locking with each of the operatives.

“You are not just here to fight. You are here to make a statement. The Covenant does not tolerate traitors. This mission is to uphold the Blood Accord and by treason, their punishment is execution by beheading. Cold and swift.”

There was a ripple of quiet approval through the Duskborns.

One of the newer members, a younger male, raised his hand. “Umbral (L/n),” he said carefully, “is it true that some of the rogues were once part of noble lines? Possibly even family?”

(Y/n) froze for just a fraction of a second.

Her posture remained rigid, her expression unreadable, but a storm passed behind her eyes.

“Yes,” she said flatly. “But that is irrelevant to the mission. Regardless of who they once were, they swore their oath and chose treason against their own people.”

A stillness settled over the room. Even the Duskborn who’d spoken looked uneasy, as if he realized too late the weight of what he’d asked.

Across the room, Varo shot the general a sidelong glance and whispered under his breath, “Told you she’s scary when she gets that tone.”

Hux’s eyes didn’t leave (Y/n) as he hummed in agreement, and something more.

(Y/n) continued smoothly, voice unwavering.

“You will all work as a team, but will be assigned in pairs. Umbral Drenn will lead the central push  alongside the Order’s stealth troopers. General Hux and myself will direct from the command ship that will be following your transport. We will keep our distance, but close enough to intervene if necessary. Additionally…” (Y/n) paused.

“ There’s the dramatic effect.” Varo mumbled with a smirk.

“I want to make it perfectly clear that the Grand Master has authorized the full extent of both Covenant and Umbral engagement. Mercy does not exist in this mission.”

A ripple of anticipation swept through the Duskborns. For many, it had been decades since they’d acted under such authority, and the thought of it made them itch for a fight.

(Y/n) stepped forward, shoulders squared, her presence almost magnetic.

“If any of you falter, I will know. And I will not hesitate to pull you for questioning.”

A beat of silence. Then the Duskborns struck their chests in unison. A solid, thudding vow.

Varo leaned towards Hux again. “She really does the ‘terrifying vampire warlord’ thing well.”

Hux allowed a faint, private smirk.

“Truly,” he murmured. 

(Y/n) gave one final look to the team.

“Further details will be provided to you soon. Dismissed.”

As the Duskborns filed out like silent shadows, Hux and Varo remained behind. (Y/n) lingered at the holotable, eyes fixed on the map, though her thoughts clearly drifted elsewhere.

Varo approached carefully. “That question back there, about the rogues and family…”

“I handled it,” (Y/n) said sharply, too quickly.

Varo nodded once and backed off, giving her space. But Hux lingered a second longer, watching her with something unreadable behind his gaze.

She didn’t turn to face him, but he didn’t press. Something between them said he understood, and that he wouldn’t let her carry the weight alone.

The door hissed closed behind the last of them with a finality that somehow felt heavier than usual.

(Y/n) stayed in place, her arms folded as she gazed out in front of her. Her shoulders were squared like always, but her stillness betrayed her. Armitage stepped in quietly behind her.

“You handled the briefing well,” he said.

Her response was slow, deliberate. “I know.”

Hux gave a small nod, then caught her off guard as he moved to lean against the edge of the table in front of her, watching her. Silence lingered a moment longer than comfort allowed.

“That Duskborn,” he said, “as ignorant as he was -”

(Y/n) finally looked at him. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll all find out eventually. It’s better that they heard it that way, without room for doubt.”

“You were… composed,” Hux said carefully.

(Y/n)’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “That’s not what you were going to say.”

He didn’t correct her.

“Attractive?” He attempted, the word feeling foreign to him, and the context even more so.  

She looked down bashfully for a moment, then uncrossed her arms and took a slow breath.

“It’s strange,” she admitted. “To feel something burn when you thought you’d already cauterized the wound. I shouldn’t care. I don’t know why I do.”

“Because you’re not heartless,” he said simply.

That made her eyes darken. Not from anger, but from quiet emotion.

“Has it ever been a requirement for you?” she asked softly. “To be in this world and not feel?”

“Not a requirement,” he said, voice lower now. “A means of survival.”

(Y/n) stepped closer, her presence steadying the space around her.

“I hate that part of me still listens for her voice. Still waits for her approval.”

Hux nodded, then after a moment, reached out. Not commanding, not demanding. Just offering.

She took his hand.

“You don’t need her voice,” he said, quietly now. “Not when you have your own.” He gently pulled her to move closer, stopping mere inches away from him.

(Y/n) stared at their joined hands for a moment, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Somehow, you always say the right thing.”

“I don’t,” he said with a flicker of a smile. “I simply say the truth.”

That earned a soft, real breath from her. Not quite a laugh, but something close.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” he asked gently.

“I am,” she said. “Because you’ll be there.”

Their eyes met - his hand still in hers - and for a long second, neither said a word. 

(Y/n), in a moment of bravery, leaned into him. Her arms slowly settled around his waist, head resting against his chest as he did the same, his head on top of her own. 

It was a foreign comfort to be embraced by someone other than themselves, a dangerous comfort. One that they found to be a quickly growing addiction the longer they strayed in the other’s presence. They still had much to explore emotionally, but for now, it was just enough. 

Eventually, they had to pry themselves apart - albeit begrudgingly. They still had to go over planning for the all-too-quickly nearing mission that had everyone involved on their toes.

The briefing room was quiet save for the hum of the holomap and the occasional flicker of shifting data. (Y/n) stood beside Armitage at the table, both of them deep in concentration. 

Tactical reports hovered in midair beside the map. Enemy movement patterns, terrain schematics, and intercepted transmissions scrolling in real time.

Armitage selected a section of the display, rotating the terrain of the target zone with precise movements. “They’ve fortified the main entrance. We’ll need to breach from the east or south. Preferably somewhere we can mask the team’s entry long enough to get through the outer perimeter.”

(Y/n) nodded, eyes scanning the projections. “There’s a patch of dense forest here,” she pointed, “if we move in under the cover of night, with the right cloaking and noise suppression -”

“It’s still too close to the secondary patrol route,” Armitage interrupted, adjusting the map again. “If they sweep early, our unit’s compromised before they even touch the ground.”

“They won’t sweep early,” (Y/n) countered. “We’ve tracked the intervals. Their pattern hasn’t changed in over a month.”

“Which is exactly why they’re due for it to change.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that sat heavy between two people who were both too smart and too stubborn for their own good. (Y/n)’s eyes flicked towards him, brows raised. Hux stood straight, unfazed, still looking over the map like it would bend to his will.

She folded her arms. “You’re planning for variables that don’t exist.”

“I’m planning for the worst-case scenario.”

“And you think I’m not?”

They stared at each other, tension mounting again. It wasn’t the anger of enemies, more the clash of sharp minds refusing to yield. There was something in the air, simmering just beneath the surface. Not quite frustration, not quite admiration… but undeniably something.

Armitage stepped around the table to get a better angle of the terrain projection, then gestured sharply at a ridge. “Fine. Then let’s go over your precious landing spot one more time. Tell me exactly how you intend to keep them hidden here.”

“I just did,” (Y/n) said, stepping around to meet him. “But you weren’t listening and were instead trying to win, so I’ll repeat it.” She stiffly stepped towards the map closer and pointed, words more pronounced in simmering agitation. “If we drop the team here ,” She said sharply, “they’ll have both cover and elevation. It gives them visibility over both known entrances to the base while still remaining hidden.”

Armitage’s eyes narrowed. “It may be a cloak, but it also puts them at risk of scan detection. The Resistance scans for signs of incoming ships in that valley in quick, short intervals. Our last recon proved it.”

“They’ll be cloaked and will be moving between intervals where the scans are not active,” (Y/n) retorted. “Unless the Resistance has acquired a new array of sensor tech we’re unaware of -”

“They don’t need new sensors if we hand them a clean shot on a silver platter,” Armitage cut in. “We use the ridge and we’re compromising their stealth. They’ll be spotted in minutes.”

“Not if they move quickly and precisely, which my people are known to do.” (Y/n) argued.

“I’m not gambling with their lives based on if , (Y/n).”

(Y/n)’s mouth opened, a retort ready, but before it could leave her tongue the door to the room hissed open. 

Varo and Phasma stepped in to find both of them nearly shoulder to shoulder, the holomap between them like a line in the sand. They watched as both of their heads whipped to face them, the heat of their previous discussion still burning in their eyes.

Varo gave a low whistle and a grin. “Interrupting something tactical or something personal?”

(Y/n) stepped back slightly, clearing her throat. “Strategic discussion.”

Phasma’s helmet turned to the holomap. “Of course it is.”

Hux gestured to the holomap, a gentle huff escaping past his lips before he spoke. “We’re finalizing the drop zones. She wants to use the high ridge. I say it’s too exposed.”

“And I say stealth cloaking will keep them hidden if they move quickly and efficiently out of the drop zone before they’re caught in a scan,” (Y/n) added with clipped precision.

Varo and Phasma stepped closer, surveying the layout.

Varo leaned over the glowing terrain map and pointed. “We could use the ridge for their initial descent and have them rappel directly into tree cover before advancing. That way the transports can evade the scans in time as soon as they’ve dropped. We know they’re capable.”

Phasma gave a small nod. “It’s viable. Terrain there is steep but manageable for trained units. We’ve done it before.”

(Y/n)’s shoulders dropped just slightly. “It’ll be tight, but it works.”

Hux gave a short exhale, the tension in his stance loosening. “Alright.”

Varo crossed his arms and shot (Y/n) a teasing look. “You two always like this?”

“Only when he’s wrong,” (Y/n) muttered under her breath.

Hux’s brow twitched, but he turned away to adjust a tactical overlay.

Phasma didn’t comment. Only slightly shook her head, perhaps to hide the trace of amusement.

The sounds of daggers clashing and slicing through the air filled the matted training room, echoing off of durasteel walls. (Y/n) ducked and pivoted, her blade a silver blur as Varo dodged many close calls. 

Neither spoke now. This was their language. Precision, movement, and endurance.

Varo grunted as (Y/n) feinted left, then spun into a calculated strike that he just barely blocked. “Starting to think you’re enjoying this more than usual,” he said between breaths.

“I am,” (Y/n) replied coolly, not missing a beat.

Then the doors hissed open.

Neither flinched at the sound. They kept moving, trained to never let their guard down. But (Y/n)’s gaze flicked briefly towards the figure that entered.

Hux, hands clasped behind his back, eyes already fixed on them with keen interest.

Still, they kept going.

He said nothing, only stepping in far enough to stand just off to the side. Observing.

He watched closely. The sharpness of (Y/n)’s posture, the swift control in her strikes, the clean and lethal grace she carried like second nature. It was different from everything else he’d seen from her. Different from her stoic professionalism on the bridge or the romantic partner she was evolving into.

This was raw. Focused. Unapologetically in her element.

“You’re throwing too wide,” (Y/n) told Varo mid-duel. “Again.”

“I’m trying to make you sweat,” he replied, breath hitching with effort.

“You’ll need a better plan.”

She stepped in with a quick flurry of strikes that pushed Varo backward, forcing him to readjust his footing. Hux’s brow lifted slightly. She wasn’t even winded.

After another exchange, Varo finally gave a sharp exhale and disengaged, lowering his blades with a low chuckle. “You see what I’ve had to put up with, sir?” he called toward Hux, half-joking, half-exhausted. “She’s all calm and quiet until you put a weapon in her hand. Then she turns into that thing.”

Hux’s mouth twitched in the barest hint of a smile. “I’ve noticed.”

(Y/n) said nothing, simply stepping back and tilting her head toward Varo in acknowledgment of the match. Her breathing was controlled, but her eyes glinted with intensity, skin gleaming and shadowed by the low light of the chamber. She looked at ease. 

“Want to go again?” Varo asked, rotating his shoulder.

“Probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Don’t want to tire ourselves too much before the mission,” she replied, her gaze now shifting to Hux.

Varo raised both hands. “I can take a hint.”

But he didn’t leave. Just moved to one of the side benches, giving them space but clearly still within earshot if needed.

Hux stepped forward, studying her carefully. “Impressive.”

(Y/n) tilted her head slightly. “You’ve never seen me fight.”

“No. But I suspected.”

“And now?” she asked, her voice still laced with that post-spar calm. 

“Now I’m even more glad that you’re not a rogue.”

She allowed a flicker of a smile to pass before turning to grab a towel, blotting her neck and face. Varo stretched out on the bench with a sigh.

“Can’t wait to tell the others I survived sparring with the Umbral herself,” he muttered.

“You’re lucky she was holding back,” Hux remarked dryly, still watching (Y/n).

Varo turned to her in disbelief. “You were holding back?”

(Y/n) tossed the towel over her shoulder and shrugged with a mischievous smile as he rolled his eyes. She then looked back at Hux, her expression unreadable now. “Did you come to pull me back to the bridge?”

“No,” Hux said softly. “I came to see you.”

Varo, now very much pretending to scroll something on his datapad, smirked.

(Y/n)’s gaze lingered on Hux’s a moment longer, her voice quieter as she replied teasingly, “Well, you’re seeing me.”

And Hux - despite everything he knew of war, strategy, and command - was at a loss for what to say to that.

But he nodded once. Because he had seen her. And it had changed everything.

So he settled on saying the only thing he could manage. 

“Care for a walk?” 

(Y/n)’s eyebrows raised slightly before smirking. “Mind if I shower first? It won’t be long, I promise.”

“Of course.” He nodded, then watched as she made her way to the showers and disappeared. 

He glanced over at Varo who still sat on the bench and the latter gave him a knowing look.

“What?” The male Umbral held his hands up in surrender before standing.

“Nothing, General.” He passed by Hux to leave with a smirk. “Nothing at all.” 

A few minutes passed and (Y/n) finally emerged, hair let down and wet, out of uniform in an undershirt, leggings and her boots. 

“Shall we?” She asked him after he stared at her for a moment. He caught himself and nodded, the two of them making their way out of the room. 

Armitage and (Y/n) walked side by side, a comfortable silence lingering between them after the intensity of the sparring session. Armitage’s hands were tucked behind his back, ever composed. 

“You fight differently than I imagined,” Armitage said after a stretch of silence.

(Y/n) glanced over, brow arching slightly. “Is that a compliment or a concern?”

He let out a low breath, almost a laugh. “A compliment. Though I admit, there was a moment I feared for Varo’s life.”

She gave a small, amused hum. “He should be used to it by now.”

“You’ve always been dangerous,” Armitage continued, his tone quieter now, more thoughtful. “But that was… different. There’s a clarity in you when you fight. Like it’s the only place your mind is truly at ease.”

(Y/n) didn’t answer at first. That struck a little too close. Instead, she looked straight ahead, eyes sharp even as they softened.

“It’s the only time I feel in control,” she said finally. “Everything else… there’s too much room for uncertainty.”

Armitage glanced over at her, brow furrowing just slightly. “Including myself?”

She slowed her pace before she stopped entirely. He stopped beside her.

“Especially you,” she said honestly, voice low.

They stood there for a beat in silence, the air between them heavy, but not uncomfortable. 

He spoke thoughtfully. “I’ve devoted everything to this fleet. This cause. And then you…” He sighed, words failing him for a moment. But (Y/n) was already watching him like she understood everything he hadn’t said.

“I didn’t expect it either,” she murmured. “But I don’t regret it.”

He studied her for a long moment, thinking. He looked around them, the corridor empty as personnel slept through the night cycle, leaving the skeleton crew to themselves. 

He then offered his arm in a rare, almost shy gesture.

She looked down at it, then back up at him with a faint smirk before linking her arm with his. “Careful, General. You’re starting to look sentimental.”

He let out a quiet, dry laugh. “Only with you, Umbral.”

They continued their walk, together now in stride and silence, with more said between them in that quiet than any words could.

They rounded another corner, neither in a rush to return to their respective quarters. There was a tension between them, but it was a quiet, mutual thing now - no longer volatile, but charged in a different way.

Finally, Armitage slowed to a stop outside of his door. He hesitated for a moment before he turned to face her with a thoughtful expression.

“Would you think -” He stopped himself for a second. “Since I saw your quarters, I think it’d only be appropriate for you to see my own, yes?” he said carefully before opening his door. He gestured for her to enter and (Y/n) glanced at him in question before stepping in. 

His quarters were pristine, larger than her own. Fitting for a general. But something else was different, something softer. 

The lighting was dimmer, warmer than usual. A strange contrast to the harshness of his office. It still held a sense of strict order and discipline, but it had an odd comfort to it as well. 

“I assume you’re hungry after training?” He asked as he hung up his overcoat and made his way to the kitchen. 

“Starving, even.” (Y/n) sighed as she took in the room, wandering over to where he stood in the kitchen and leaning against the counter beside him, watching. 

The soft hum of the heating element filled the room as Armitage moved with practiced precision, setting out two mugs and a tin of loose-leaf tea. His posture was, as always, precise - spine straight, movements calculated - but there was an ease to his presence that only showed in these rare, private moments.

(Y/n) lifted a curious brow when he went into the fridge, then her lips parted when he pulled out a blood back and went to warm it up. He gave her a mischievous side glance.

“Since when did you start having blood packs in your quarters?” She asked in disbelief. 

“Since I figured you would visit at some point.” He shot back with a faint smirk. 

“And when would that be?”

He raised a brow at her. “I’d say last night.” He nodded as if he actually had to think about it.

(Y/n) giggled quietly, a hint of amusement tugging at her lips as she watched him fix his tea once the water heated.

“You even prepare tea like you’re orchestrating a military campaign,” she remarked, arching a brow.

Armitage glanced over his shoulder with a dry look. “Precision is key. Unlike some, I prefer my beverages not tasting like dishwater.”

(Y/n) smirked. “That almost sounded like a personal jab.”

“It was,” he said evenly, turning back to the tea. “I once had a droid bring me a tea that tasted like it was put in a dirty mug with the bag only steeped for five seconds.”

(Y/n) chuckled. “I’m assuming you’ve had serious trust issues since then?” 

Once finished making his own tea and the blood pack was warmed, he poured the thick substance into her own mug and turned to hand it to her. 

“I had trust issues before then, imagine where the bar is now.” 

(Y/n) graciously took the mug with thanks and shook her head, following him to the living room to sit on one of the couches. 

As they settled in pleasant silence, sipping from their mugs, (Y/n) could feel Armitage’s gaze linger every now and then as she drank. She was used to it coming from other people, but from him it was amusing. 

“If you’re curious, just ask. You’re not going to offend me.” She offered gently from the edge of her mug. 

She locked eyes with him for a moment, watching as he debated himself internally on what to ask, if he should even ask. 

“Does it help?” The question finally slipped, his head lowering to gesture towards her mug.

“The blood?”

Armitage hummed. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Are the packs enough? Being synthetic - they are synthetic, correct?” 

(Y/n) couldn’t help but giggle again at his genuine curiosity, finding it endearing. “Yes, they’re synthetic. It’s not the same as organic blood, but it’s enough to make do. It’s more humane, anyways.”

“How often do you need it?”

She paused for a moment in thought before answering. 

“I’d say every few days if I’m not exerting myself. More often during missions or when I train - like today.” 

“And what if it’s not available when you are hungry?” Armitage caught her finger twitch, a subtle sign of discomfort. “If it’s too much -“

“It’s fine.” She cut him off softly before answering his question, but not before sighing. “The Covenant trained us under starving conditions during our field exercises. We were taught to exist in it, to harness it rather than be controlled by it to ensure we wouldn’t be a liability.”

Armitage’s brows lifted slightly. “You were starved on purpose?”

(Y/n) shrugged indifferently. “It was just part of the process,” she said. “In our final trials, we went without blood for weeks. Hardly any sleep. They wanted to see if we’d break, and anyone who did failed the academy.”

She met his eyes and smirked at his near incredulous expression. 

“I think it made me a better person for it, anyhow. Even for those not in the Covenant, it’s a good learning lesson for our kind to keep them from going on a murdering spree.” She attempted a jest at the end.

Armitage hummed in thought as he eyed her. She set down her mug and carefully brushed her fingers over the top of his gloved hand. He turned his palm up to intertwine their fingers, his eyes never leaving her face. 

“We should get some rest. I imagine tomorrow is going to be quite busy.” He suggested softly. 

(Y/n) nodded in agreement, taking a deep breath before slowly resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Quite busy…” She repeated in a murmur as she stared at the coffee table. 

Thank you all for the lovely comments! I have many more ideas and one-shots to come! Some are a bit more lengthy than others, be warned!🥰

(P.S: Ideas/asks are most definitely welcome 😘)

The Scarred - Masterlist

Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Notes - This story is set prior to the events of The Dark Knight. Some moments may feel OOC, but only because you will see sides of certain characters that weren’t represented in the movie, however I will do my best to stay true to the character and base it off of what is canon. *I do not own any of the content in this franchise other than my own characters!*

Song/Theme - “Set Fire” by Carina Round

Warnings -

Trauma

Flashbacks

Panic attacks

Anxiety

Gore/violence🩸

Aspects of torture

Sexual themes🔥

Smut (MDNI/NSFW) 🔞

Manipulation

Mature language

Chapters -

Prologue Chapter 10

Chapter 1 Chapter 11 🩸🔥🔞

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 🔥

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 6

Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader

*Set prior to The Force Awakens*

Summary -

Forged in blood. Bound by duty. Broken by desire.

(Y/n) (L/n) is a deadly Umbral of the Covenant - an elite order of vampires sworn to the First Order. Her assignment: serve as General Hux's personal guard. But as buried secrets surface and a rogue vampire faction rises, (Y/n) is forced to confront a past she can't outrun - and feelings she was never meant to have.

In a war of blood, betrayal, and duty, the deadliest threat may be the one that lies still in her chest.

Series contains - Blood, violence, battles/war, betrayal/angst, eventual smut, slow burn

The air was cool in the general’s office. It was later in the afternoon, the soft glow of artificial light bathing the room in sterile illumination.

General Hux stood at his desk, sorting through a series of final mission details before the team’s departure. His usual precision was evident, and his focus was absolute, but the silence in the room was not one of ease. It felt like the calm before the storm. A storm he was about to launch, and one that would, inevitably, affect those around him.

(Y/n) stood at the side of his office, leaning against the wall, but her fingers were tapping lightly against the fabric of her uniform, a subtle movement that betrayed her usual composure. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, unfocused. There was a nervous energy to her now, a tension that lingered in the air between them.

Hux glanced over at her, sharp eyes catching the fidgeting, the clenched jaw, the way she tried to appear still but couldn’t quite hide the anxiety beneath. For a brief moment, he was caught off guard. (Y/n) was rarely anything other than perfectly controlled, an elite soldier. 

Seeing her this way, on edge and uncertain, was unsettling to say the least.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, his voice a touch more probing than usual. The words held the more relaxed tone they had begun to grow accustomed to with each other, but there was also an undercurrent of something resembling care.

She stiffened at the sound of his voice, but only for a moment. It was as if she was trying to reset herself, to shove the anxiety back into the dark recesses of her mind, but it refused to stay there.

“I’m… fine, sir,” she replied, the words coming out a little too quickly, too tightly.

Hux raised an eyebrow, not fooled by the performance. He walked over to where she stood, stopping just a pace away from her. He wasn’t physically imposing. There was no need for it. But his proximity was enough to make the air between them feel charged.

“You’re not fine,” he observed quietly, his tone steady but unyielding.

(Y/n) bit down on her lower lip, her shoulders tensing further. She wasn’t looking at him, still staring at the floor, though the distant edge in her gaze seemed to suggest she wasn’t fully present.

He could feel the shift in the room, the subtle but noticeable change in her energy. (Y/n), the formidable warrior who had so often seemed untouchable, was standing here in front of him, not hiding her vulnerability. 

It was strange to someone like him. No one on the ship would ever open up to him in such a way, and yet the fiercest warrior he had ever met was cracking right before his very eyes.

“Why are you worried about him?” Hux asked, his voice softer now. It was rare for him to show any degree of gentleness, but there was something in (Y/n)’s uncharacteristic behavior that pulled at him. 

(Y/n) was usually the one others depended on, the one who gave strength to others when they needed it most. She was the protector, the shield.

But now? She was the one who needed protection. And, for the first time, Hux saw it clearly. He saw her as more than just the cold, calculating soldier everyone else saw. He saw the person beneath.

Her breath hitched slightly, and she stiffened even more, as if bracing herself for something she didn’t want to face. He couldn’t help but notice how much the uncertainty of the mission, of the risk to Varo, was affecting her.

He began, his voice lower now, with an unexpected softness that she couldn’t ignore. “He’s trained. They’re all trained. If anyone can handle themselves in that situation, it’s him.”

But she shook her head, biting back whatever she wanted to say. “He’s not just a close comrade. He’s…” She faltered, as if the words didn’t quite fit together. “He’s the only person I have left who saw me before all of this. Before the Covenant. Before I became what I am now.”

There it was again. The rare slip. The cracks in her armor. She wasn’t just a soldier to be viewed from the outside. She was a person who had lived through something, who had experienced loss, betrayal, and isolation in ways few would ever understand.

Hux studied her, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “I know,” he said simply. “I know what it’s like to have your future determined by others. To be bound to something you never chose. And I know what it’s like to lose people. It doesn’t get easier, but you learn how to live with it. You have to if you want to survive.”

(Y/n) lifted her gaze, her eyes meeting his for the first time in what felt like hours. She didn’t say anything in response, no words of thanks or gratitude. But Hux saw something akin to understanding pass between them.

“Get some rest,” he said, turning away. “You’ll need it. The mission launches in just a few hours.”

She nodded absently, her mind still caught on the thoughts she couldn’t shake. As she started to leave the room, she paused for just a second.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, as if the words were hard-earned.

Hux gave a brief nod, holding her gaze before she finally turned and left.

And as she walked out of his office, her footsteps quieter than usual, Hux stayed behind for a moment longer, staring at the empty space where she had been standing, a strange feeling settling into his chest. As much as he tried to shake the thought, it lingered. 

Hours later, after tossing and turning and not getting any sleep, (Y/n) found herself heading to the hangar to see the squad off.

The hum of the hangar was deafening as they geared up. The noise of loading crates, preparing fighters, and the steady thrumming of engines filled the space, but it was the quiet bubble of tension around (Y/n) and Varo that made the moment feel charged. (Y/n) stood near the side of the bay, watching the First Order soldiers make sure their gear was locked in place before the operation began.

Her eyes were focused on Varo, who was making his final adjustments to his gear, ensuring everything was in place. His usual easy going demeanor seemed absent, replaced by the quiet intensity of someone about to step into the unknown. She was well aware of the weight he carried. Not just the weight of the mission, but the weight of the friendship they shared. The only friend she had left, and now he was going off into danger without her for the first time.

“Ready to go?” (Y/n)’s voice broke the silence, though it wasn’t without hesitation.

Varo glanced up from his harness he was adjusting and gave her a faint, lopsided grin. “You know me. Always ready.” He continued adjusting his equipment, but there was a slight tremor in his movements, a rare moment of vulnerability that (Y/n) noticed.

For a long moment, she just stared at him. Her gaze softened, and her hand instinctively reached out to adjust one of his straps, smoothing it down to avoid any discomfort on the mission. It was an automatic gesture, something they both knew well. Small moments of familiarity between soldiers who had fought together for years.

“I wish I could go in your place.” she said quietly, her tone softer than usual. She tried to hide the worry in her voice, but it was there, clear as day.

Varo stopped what he was doing, raising an eyebrow and looking down at her. “You know I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. Besides, you’re needed here with Hux. He’d be lost without you.”

Her brow furrowed at the mention of the general, and she quickly brushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. “I don’t like you being out there alone. The squad can handle it, but I… I just don’t like it.”

Varo smiled, that familiar spark returning to his eyes, though it didn’t fully reach the corners of his mouth. “You always were the protective one.” He nudged her lightly with his elbow, a teasing move that was meant to lighten the moment. “I’ll be fine. You know me, I’ve been through worse than this.”

(Y/n)’s gaze lingered on him for a second longer before she nodded, but it was clear that she wasn’t convinced. Her next words came with a sigh, a mix of frustration and unease. “I hate how I can’t always control everything, Varo. What if something happens? What if -”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Varo interrupted, his voice firm but comforting. He stepped closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder in a rare show of support. “We’ve been trained by possibly the best academy in the galaxy. I know how to stay alive. And I’ll come back. I always do.”

For a moment, they stood there, the bustling hangar a distant hum in the background. It was just the two of them, the unspoken bond between them hanging heavy in the air.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You better. Don’t make me come rescue you.”

Varo chuckled softly, the sound a brief relief in the tension-filled atmosphere. “If you insist. But you’ll have to catch me first.”

She shot him a sharp look, a brief flash of her usual intensity crossing her face. “I’m fast enough.”

Varo’s grin widened, and he clapped her on the back. “That’s the (Y/n) I know. ”

(Y/n)’s lips twitched upwards slightly, the barest hint of a smile breaking through her otherwise stoic demeanor. “Just don’t get yourself killed.”

“I won’t,” Varo replied, his tone turning more serious. He took a step back, nodding towards the squad waiting by the ship. “Alright, I better go. Stay safe here, alright?”

(Y/n) nodded, watching him for a moment as he started to walk towards the shuttle, his footsteps echoing in the hangar. She stood there, still. Her eyes followed his retreating figure and something inside her twisted. It was always so much easier when they were together.

“Varo,” she called out before he could get too far.

He paused and looked back at her, raising an eyebrow.

“Be careful,” she added softly, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.

He gave her a smile, the one she’d seen hundreds of times before, the one that told her everything would be okay. “Always am.”

And with that, he disappeared into the shuttle, leaving (Y/n) standing alone in the hangar. Her heart was heavy with unspoken words and the quiet hope that everything would, indeed, be okay.

For now, she could only wait.

Once they left, she stood in the hangar for a moment before striding back towards the bridge where the general would be waiting. 

It was quieter than usual, as if the very walls of the ship were holding their breath. Lights blinked rhythmically across consoles, officers working silently, their glances occasionally flicking towards the command platform where General Hux and (Y/n) stood.

They weren’t speaking. Not yet.

Hux stood with his hands clasped neatly behind his back, staring out at the stars through the viewport. There was a sharpness to his expression, his usual composure tinged with a trace of unease.

(Y/n) stood beside him, not in her usual rigid stance, but more reserved, arms folded, her eyes flicking across the terminals. Her gaze was distant, but focused. Waiting, calculating. Her heightened senses kept her attuned to every shift of movement, every new blip on the screen.

Still, no update.

“They’re late checking in,” she said at last, her voice quiet.

Hux didn’t move. “A few minutes behind schedule is not unusual for a stealth insertion. You know that.”

(Y/n)’s jaw tightened, but she gave a short nod. “Doesn’t make it any easier.”

He glanced toward her, just for a moment. “Worried?”

She didn’t deny it. “Yes.”

A pause hung between them. The bridge crew pretended not to notice their exchange, though a few subtle glances were exchanged among them. No one had ever seen the general speaking this calmly with anyone, especially not one of the Covenant.

“I’m not fond of silence before battle either,” Hux admitted quietly, returning his eyes to the viewport. “Waiting for someone else to move first is always the worst part.”

She looked at him. “You’ve waited on plenty of battlefields, I’m sure.”

“Yes.” A faint, sardonic smile touched his lips. “But I prefer the part where I’m giving orders and watching the results. The part where things are in my control.”

(Y/n) let out a soft exhale that was nearly a laugh. “So you don’t like silence either.”

“No,” he replied, tone flat. “I despise it.”

Their shared stillness resumed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable this time. Just suspended.

Until a sudden chime broke through the quiet. An officer at a lower console straightened sharply.

“General,” he called, voice clear, “we have a transmission from the advance team. The squad landed and is moving into position now. No contact with hostiles yet, but visibility is low.”

Both Hux and (Y/n) turned at once, stepping down from the command platform towards the console.

“Put it on the central display,” Hux ordered.

The large screen at the center of the bridge flickered to life, showing grainy feed from the squad’s body cams. Thermal vision, silent hand signals, movement through low-light terrain.

(Y/n)’s sharp eyes scanned the footage instantly. “They’re moving well. Clean formation. But this terrain… it’s too open.”

“They’ll adapt,” Hux replied, though he watched the feed just as intently.

She nodded. “Drenn will keep them sharp.”

The atmosphere on the bridge was tense. The buzz of activity faded into the background as (Y/n) and Hux stood side by side, their attention locked on the holographic displays before them.

It was a quiet, methodical operation. 

(Y/n) stood just beside Hux, her eyes tracking every detail on the feed. Her mind was elsewhere, despite the seemingly calm exterior she projected. She felt the gnawing anxiety she hadn’t quite shaken off when Varo left, the unease creeping into her chest. She trusted Varo’s skills, but there was still the lingering thought of the unknown. 

“Any changes in the feed?” The general asked after too many moments of silence. Hux’s voice was low, but precise, cutting through her thoughts.

(Y/n) blinked, focusing on the screen. “No, nothing yet. It’s still the same. They’re just watching the outer perimeter for now. No signs of the faction yet.”

“Good,” Hux responded, eyes narrowing as he observed the footage. “Keep me updated if you see anything that changes.”

(Y/n) gave a sharp nod, though it was clear from the tension in her posture that she was already on edge. Her gaze flitted between the feeds, watching Varo and the squad move through the landscape, their movements fluid and practiced. Every corner they turned, every shadow they passed, felt like an eternity to her. She could feel the weight of the unknown pressing down, her thoughts drifting back to the moment before the mission when she had wished she could go instead.

“How long until we can make contact if something goes wrong?” (Y/n) asked, her voice laced with quiet concern.

“Half an hour,” Hux answered, his voice still calm, though (Y/n) noticed the faintest crease in his brow. He, too, was tense. “We’ll keep monitoring. We can’t risk alerting them if they’re aware of our presence.”

(Y/n) didn’t respond at first, her eyes narrowing as she watched Varo and the team continue their sweep. The slow, deliberate pace they kept felt agonizing, but it was necessary. Every inch of the mission was calculated, but even the smallest mistake could jeopardize everything.

She felt a strange, familiar tightness in her chest as she saw Varo’s team approach a set of crumbling buildings, their silhouettes casting long shadows in the dim light.

“Everything’s moving according to plan,” (Y/n) said, though her voice lacked conviction. “I just wish -”

Hux turned to her, his gaze steady but piercing. “You were out there with them,” he finished for her.

(Y/n) hesitated before nodding once. She hadn’t realized how much she’d let the feeling show.

Hux was silent for a long moment, his eyes flicking back to the screen. “Drenn’s capable,” he said, as though trying to reassure her, though there was something oddly personal about the way he said it, as though he understood her worry more than he’d let on.

She didn’t reply immediately, choosing instead to focus back on the screen. “I know. I just… I know how dangerous this could be.” She glanced at him, the briefest flash of vulnerability crossing her face.

Hux’s eyes lingered on her for a second longer than usual. “You’ve been through worse to get to where you are now. He’ll be fine.”

Her gaze returned to the screen, the words not quite enough to quiet her inner fears, but she appreciated the effort. As the minutes dragged on, she leaned in closer, her posture tightening with each new frame on the display. She didn’t want to admit how much she was starting to rely on the quiet support Hux was offering at that moment. How much it was beginning to matter that he was there.

The hour passed slowly, but as the operation continued, the tension in the room began to build. 

Then, a sudden shift in the feed caught her attention. 

The movement was erratic, flashes of motion in the distance, too quick to be natural. The squad had stumbled onto something.

“Wait,” (Y/n) murmured, stepping forward. She turned to the console and her fingers moved over the controls, zooming in on the image before walking back over. “They’ve spotted something.”

Hux stood straighter, his gaze sharpening as he too focused on the newly updated feed. “What are we looking at?”

(Y/n)’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not just a few stragglers…” She held her breath, eyes widening as realization kicked in. “They’re surrounded - this isn’t right.”

The screen displayed the incoming movement. Too many figures, too fast to track. The squad was moving into a choke point.

“Get me a full analysis of the surrounding area,” Hux ordered a nearby officer sharply, his voice cold and commanding. “We need to know if there’s a larger force there, and if they’re closing in.”

The officer didn’t hesitate, their fingers moving swiftly to initiate the commands.

Hux’s eyes flicked over to (Y/n) once again, the coolness in his expression momentarily fading. He didn’t say anything, but something in his posture softened, just enough for her to notice.

The situation on the feed escalated, and (Y/n) could feel the gravity of it. With the team out there, in the line of fire, she couldn’t help but feel a growing unease that she couldn’t shake.

“Hold on, Varo,” she whispered to herself.

The tension on the bridge intensified as the analysis the officer ran illuminated more troubling details. The surrounding area, once thought to be clear, was now crowded with figures, movement that didn’t match the squad’s advance. 

For a moment, (Y/n)’s mind raced with the possibilities after the officer reported. 

Had they been ambushed? Was this a setup? 

Her eyes darted between the surveillance screens and the data feeds she was receiving.

“Damn it,” (Y/n) muttered, her fingers flying over the console, zooming in on the feed more to get a better look at the incoming forces. “Whoever they are, there’s more of them. We’ve got a larger group. Not just the squad anymore.”

Hux’s gaze sharpened as he leaned over her shoulder just behind her, his attention now fully locked onto the feed. “Are we looking at enemy combatants?”

(Y/n) shook her head quickly. “Not entirely. There are more… but they don’t look like the rogues. These are… Well, they’re just as coordinated, but don’t follow the same pattern.”

The figures in the background were moving with the precision of seasoned soldiers, but their tactics were far too refined to be random insurgents. And then, as if on cue, the officer’s analysis returned an unexpected match.

“General, they’re Covenant,” they said, voice tinged with surprise. 

“Covenant?” (Y/n) questioned as she shot the officer a look before turning to the general. “Did we call Covenant reinforcements?” He shook his head, just as stunned. 

A silence fell over the bridge for a moment, as the officers took in her words. Hux remained stone-faced, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something that might have been disbelief, or perhaps curiosity.

“Why would the Covenant be aiding the squad?” Hux asked, his voice low and deliberate, though his mind was clearly whirring, processing this new development. 

“This doesn’t seem like a coincidence.” (Y/n)’s voice was firm, though the concern was evident. She watched as the small group of Covenant soldiers moved swiftly, expertly clearing the area around the squad without hesitation. Their skill and methodical execution suggested they were there to protect the squad, not target them. “It’s a controlled assault. They’re securing the perimeter.”

(Y/n)’s hand hovered over the console as the squad pressed forward, their formation tight and coordinated with the Covenant’s. “They could have been on a recon mission and ran into them.” She hesitated. 

Hux’s lips pressed into a thin line as he considered the implications. 

The feed revealed flashes of movement, but the squad’s communication remained solid, confirming that the Covenant was not only aiding them, they were taking command of the area with Varo’s order, clearing the perimeter with precise strikes. Within moments, the area was secured. 

Hux’s voice cut through the tense silence on the bridge. “Has the situation stabilized?”

(Y/n) watched intently as the rogue faction retreated into a corner, pinned down by the Covenant and squad. “It’s under control,” she confirmed, though there was a trace of disbelief in her voice. “They’ve secured the perimeter. The rogues are cornered.” 

Suddenly, (Y/n) honed in on one of the squad’s feeds showing the captured rogues as they were being detained. Hux watched as she stepped closer to the video of one woman, a familiar face she hadn’t seen since before joining the Covenant. 

“Umbral?” The general asked carefully as her lips parted in disbelief, face reflecting contained rage and pain. She took a staggered step away from the feed, swallowing before she quickly schooled her expression. But her eyes couldn’t lie. 

“May I step away for a moment, sir?” She asked in a trembling tone without even glancing in his direction. The general hesitated before approving.

“You may.” His eyes followed her as she immediately stormed out of the bridge.

The door to Hux’s office hissed shut behind (Y/n), sealing her in silence.

She didn’t make it far. Just a few steps in before the weight of what she’d seen crashed down over her like a collapsing hull. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as her breathing quickened, shallow and sharp.

(Y/n) stood at the edge of the main living space, her posture tense but composed. Her dark clothing was simple, travel-ready. A small satchel was slung across her back. Her mother sat stiffly on the couch, a glass of crimson liquid in her hand. Her father stood behind her with arms folded. 

“You can’t possibly be serious.” Her father quipped.

“I am. Varo and I are leaving by morning.”

“You’ve been spending far too much time with that fanatic.” Her mother spat.

The image was still burned into her mind. Sitting among the detained rogues, restrained, eyes hollow. The woman hadn’t changed much. At least not in the way that mattered. That cold stare, the one that had once looked down on (Y/n) with bitter disappointment, was still there.

(Y/n) answered, growing louder. “He showed me the truth. The ruins. The archives. The names of our people they tried to erase.”

“Stories, (Y/n)! Lies, ghosts! You’re choosing to chase vengeance over reason!” Her father yelled, patience as thin as silk.

(Y/n) responded with the same volume. “I’m choosing to stop hiding! To not let the Resistance erase what they did to us! The history of our people that you’re so casually tossing aside all because you’ll get a little more money in your pocket!”

“And you think the Covenant is the answer? The First Order?” Her mother asked sternly, choosing to ignore her last comment. “What you’ve done is a disgrace to our family,” the older woman said coldly, her voice calm, but only on the surface. Beneath it was fear, trembling and bitter. 

“You left me no choice.” She bit back.

(Y/n) stumbled forward and pressed her hands against the edge of the general’s desk, her head bowed. Her nails scraped against the cold metal, leaving faint indentations as she shook her head over and over again.

No. It’s not her. It can’t be.

But it was.

“I didn’t ask for this,” (Y/n) choked as her eyes began to brim with tears. 

A cracked sound escaped her throat. Half snarl, half sob. She pushed away from the desk, pacing like a caged animal. Her boots thudded against the floor as she moved, erratic and unmoored.

Her hands shook as she pressed them to her temples, trying to force the memories away. 

(Y/n) gritted her teeth as her fangs finally extended, the sound of her crying out combined with a monstrous hiss-like roar. She couldn’t think like this. Couldn’t feel like this. Not now. Not again.

Silence stretched across the room, heavy with tension. Her mother set down her glass and stood, golden eyes narrowing.

“If you walk out that door, (Y/n)… You are no daughter of ours.”

(Y/n)’s throat tightened, a few tears finally escaping silently. There was no outburst, no scream. Just a slow, internal breaking. She squared her shoulders.

“You already made that choice when you decided fortune was more important than our people.”

She turned, walking towards the door. Her hand lingered on the panel for just a second.

Without turning back to look at them, she finalized her decision. “Goodbye.”

She collapsed onto the floor on her knees, hunched over as she hugged herself. Her breathing slowed, but the tension clung to her shoulders like armor she couldn’t shed.

There was no comfort. No absolution.

Only the low hum of the Finalizer around her, and the knowledge that her past had come roaring back into the present with a face she had never wanted to see again.

And now, she would have to face her.

Not as a daughter.

But as an affiliate of the First Order. And a child of the Covenant.

Serenity - Chapter 10

Masterlist

Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.

The days seemed to pass by in a flurry, though Mary was appreciative of the work she performed in order to distract herself from the reality at hand. She lived in her own little world when she was in the sewing room. Even at the village, she had never felt so focused, no matter if it was because of who it was for. The seamstress hadn't taken such care of her work since Reuben's project.

It was well into the night and the woman hadn't left the room since lunch. With the catcher out and about she hadn't a reason to leave as he was always the one to drag her away from her work. Her movements were slower, more sluggish in her tired state. She was too close to finishing with the Baron's attire to stop. As always with practically muscle memory, she made final adjustments and corrections, clipping off dangling strings and whatnot.

Mary missed the presence that entered the room, the disappointed yet adoring look across their face. She heard a sigh from behind her and didn't turn to see them, already knowing who it was.

"I'm almost done, I promise." Mary answered his silent plea.

"You shouldn't put your work over your health." The catcher removed his hat and made way to stand beside her to see the finished product.

"How did it go?"

"Found two of them under a bridge." His usual pride was concealed by his own exhaustion. Any other time of the day he would've been boasting about it like a hero, which he was in a way.

"Two?" Reuben nodded. "How old?"

"I believe six and four."

"I don't ever remember seeing so many in such a short amount of time. That would make five in a little over a month."

"It happens from time to time. Nothing is ever consistent when it comes to children." He nearly spat. Mary finally quit fussing over her work and set down her scissors to face Reuben. She offered a weak smile.

"Finished." The man huffed incredulously, biting back a smile before the two of them made their way to his quarters. As Reuben began shedding his layers Mary undid her hair and jewelry, then turned to him. "Reuben?" She called gently and he turned to her as he pulled his cravat over his head. "Can you...?" She motioned to the back of her dress.

Without hesitation he stepped over to her, beginning to untie it in silence. It was a comfortable silence, however, and it was these moments that they seemed to cherish the most. It was a calm break from the chaos of the day, allowing them to wind down and relax, basking in the comfort of one another.

Reuben softly patted her waist when he finished and she thanked him, then made her way to the bathroom to finish changing. Mary made a beeline for the bed when she emerged, burying herself under the covers and closing her eyes for much needed rest. The room dimmed beneath her eyelids as Reuben turned off the overhead light, leaving on a faint lamp on the end table beside the couch as he opened a faded book.

She began to realize that the sheets started to smell like her, and less like the man they belonged to. Either that or it was starting to become a weird combination of the two which she personally didn't mind. It began to make her wonder if they were really together that often, or if anyone else noticed besides the Barons.

She couldn't remember ever having to rely on someone as much as she did Reuben. Not even her own mother. Perhaps it was because of trauma, that her mind would cling to anyone that gave her the time of day. She wondered if it would ever wear off, or if he would grow tired of her. As close as they were now, even with a fresh courtship, she couldn't bear the thought of being away from him. It scared her to even think about the chance of it happening.

Half an hour passed and she couldn't bring herself to sleep. She was exhausted, and the sound of pages being turned occasionally kept her in her sleepy state, but her mind had other ideas as she tossed and turned. Mary opened her eyes and glanced at Reuben. His head rested against his hand, elbow on the arm of the couch with his legs crossed as he continued to read his book.

"Reuben?" The catcher perked up at her voice. "Could you lay with me?" She almost whispered. His eyes widened in disbelief for a second, then he closed and set down the book, standing up and rounding the bed to the opposite side. "I can't sleep..." Reuben slid off his shoes and carefully crawled on top of the bedding to sit up next to her. She turned to face him and lay her head in his lap, resting an arm over his legs and curling into him.

"Is something bothering you?" Mary sighed and nuzzled herself closer to him. She was silent at first, thinking.

"I'd rather not talk about it." Mary whispered, her hand gripping the fabric of his pants. He didn't say a word in response, only began combing his fingers through her hair. It wasn't until he was sure she was asleep that he leaned his head back against the bed frame and closed his eyes.

"Marianne?" A voice echoed around her. "Mary?" The echo became clearer and the woman spun around in a tizzy, trying to find the source of it. "Mary!" The nearly unsaturated plaza began to spin with her movements. "Mary!" The voice cried out with no echo present and the woman in question spun around to see her mother kneeling before her with outstretched arms, face bruised and bloodied.

Mary quickly made her way to the throne room in a daze, eyes fleeting every which way. When she entered she quickly spotted the barons who, coincidentally, were speaking with none other than Reuben. His presence gave her just a smitch more of confidence and she stepped her way over, then offered a proper greeting.

"Your attire is ready whenever you wish to see them." The four of them looked amongst each other in quite a comedic action, then the Baron answered.

"Well, let's see!"

Once more, Mary rushed her way back up to the room with the three of them in tow. The elevator ride was quite awkward for her, however. With the sound of it buzzing the only white noise in the room it was painful, really. She couldn't be more thankful when they exited and continued their journey.

Her heart banged against her chest like a drum as they neared the entrance to the sewing room, hands beginning to sweat as her body nearly trembled with anxiety. She turned to face them, looking at each of them before turning the handle to gradually open the door. The barons peeked inside, walking further into the room when their eyes landed on what would indeed be their attire.

The Baroness gasped while Bomburst's jaw popped open, staring in fascination in a manner akin to a child. Mary slowly moved to join them in front of the mannequins, carefully watching their expressions.

"You're welcome to touch them, your excellencies."  And so they did. Their fingers traced over the intricate handwork, gawking at the different textures. Their eyes ran over their own mannequins a million times over.

"Miss Elise," Mary's heart skipped a beat. "You're hired." The Baroness spoke without ever taking her eyes off of her dress. It took everything in the seamstress not to jump for joy right then and there, but she most certainly couldn't hide the grin that pinched her cheeks. She bowed her head to hide it.

"Thank you, my lady. I won't disappoint you."

"I couldn't agree more." The Baroness finally looked over at her with a large smile, as if it was Christmas morning and she found presents under the tree.

"You'll have until the day after my birthday off from your work for what you have done. Then you can start your real work." Bomburst spoke, or really shouted, joyfully. The two of them gave her a nod before they left the room, murmuring about their excitement for the upcoming party.

When the door shut Mary rested a hand on her forehead and tittered with excitement, running over to Reuben to engulf him with a hug. The air left his lungs for a moment at the impact, but once he grounded himself he returned it and smiled down at her.

"They loved it! They really loved it!" Her voice muffled itself in his chest, then she tilted her head up and gently gripped the sides of his jaw to kiss his cheek. She was about to pull away when he stopped her and returned the kiss, however on the lips. It bubbled down her elated state slightly, and when he pulled away their cheeks were flushed.

"I'd say this deserves a celebration." Reuben offered with a wink and Mary giggled.

"What did you have in mind?"

No matter how many times she asked or pestered him with questions, he absolutely refused to answer her. Her curiosity, even she could admit, was what got her into trouble most often. She thought it one of her greatest flaws. She didn't even have her sewing to distract her from such misery as Reuben made it an official order not to let her into the room for her days off. As he said, for her 'own good'.

So, being as Mary would be officially living at the castle, she decided to explore a bit more. Of course, she only visited places she was more familiar with to prevent herself from getting too lost, but she did venture off from time to time and had to ask nearby guards for directions.

Mary then wound up in the throne room, a common occurrence as of late. It seemed so much yet so little happened all at once the more she looked on about the room. Everyone was split up into their own little groups, it seemed. There was a trio of women in a corner gossiping, a pair playing badminton, and a few individual stragglers. The largest group, however, was the one knitting, all sat in a row adding on to whatever it was they were all working on. She found it rather amusing more than anything.

"Well, hello, miss." A sophisticated voice greeted. Mary turned to the source, finding a pair of middle-aged women stood next to her. They wore bland gowns, yet their jewelry and wigs showed their higher status.

"Who might you be?" The brunette of the two asked.

"Mary Elise." Both women gasped and did little to hide their excitement.

"So you're the new seamstress?" The second woman dawning a light grey wig poked. Mary simply nodded.

"If you don't mind my asking, what are your names?"

"I'm Mildred Vogel." Answered the brunette.

"Aundrea Bauer."

"Why, I think those are rather beautiful names." The women tossed their wrists and giggled.

"Please, you flatter." Mildred bubbled and the two of them led Mary further into the room.

"We couldn't help but overhear that you finished the Barons' attire for his excellency's birthday!" Aundrea piped up rather loudly and Mary flinched, glancing around to see if any heads turned. To her relief, none did.

"Yes, yes, I can't wait to see what you've made to have them boast so openly!"

"Perhaps you could make us a little something, as well?" Mildred suggested and Mary began to internally panic when another voice interrupted.

"Now, ladies, leave the poor woman be before word gets out that you're pestering his excellency's seamstress." A man with a grey wig and elegant robe intervened, making his way over.

He looked down at the two women over his smaller glasses that balanced on his nose. At first they grew frustrated, but it quickly died down before they scurried off to who knew where. The stranger then turned to Mary.

"I hope they didn't give you too much trouble, Miss." He held out his hand. "Heinrich Fischer, Chancellor." She took hold of it to shake, but before she could remove her hand he covered it with his other and began to slowly maneuver them about the room as they spoke. He didn't seem to mean ill-will, it seemed more like a gentlemanly gesture than anything so she decided to pay no mind to it. Though it was awkward the first minute or so.

"It's not exactly what I expected it to be, I'll have to admit, Chancellor." She commented sheepishly and he chuckled.

"Of course not, dear girl, not at all. Not at all with all the stories floating around about out there."

"Stories?" He looked over at her in curiosity.

"Aren't you from the village?" Mary nodded. "Haven't you heard any stories from here? How the riches outweigh the amountiful brutality and whatnot?"

"I only heard bits and pieces from passerbys, but I never really trusted their opinions anyways." The Chancellor cleared his throat.

"Well, whatever the case, the stories seem to be getting more dramatic the further along they pass."

"How do you know if you don't visit?"

"Why, the prisoners, of course. It's amazing how much people talk when there's trouble a-brewing."

"Prisoners? Like children?"

"Children, yes, of course. Adults, too." He leaned in closer, speaking more quietly with a mischievous expression. "Though, many of those adults used to be children." He chuckled when he stood up straight once more, finally releasing her hand. "I figured you would know all inside and out about that with how much time you spend with the catcher."

"The topic just hasn't come up, I suppose."

"And speak of the devil." Mary noticed his gaze wander and followed it to see Reuben making his way over to the two of them.

"Chancellor." He greeted the man stiffly with a nod. "I'm afraid I've come to steal your company, if you don't mind."

"Of course, of course. She's your lady, after all. Quite a curious one." He quipped with a smile before waving them off and heading somewhere else. Reuben and Mary shared an odd look before she was dragged by the former out of the room.

"Not a fan?" Mary asked once they were out of earshot. Reuben held back a scoff.

"Eccentric. Everyone here is, including myself. But I like to think I'm the more sane one."

"Where are we going?" Mary questioned after a moment as he led her to an unfamiliar area of the castle.

"You'll see." He answered with a sly smile. She slowed for a second, then bit her lip to hide her own and trotted back to his side, taking hold of his arm. "Remember that celebration?" He recollected as they stopped before a larger doorway at the end of the hall. She looked at him in curiosity and he opened the doors, revealing a sight she only thought to be in her mother's fairytales.

It was a grand balcony. A miniature ballroom, one could say. Two large columns sat in the center, wrapped with vine and fairy lights. At the edge of the balcony sat a glass table for two, decorated with a candle and vase of a single rose. Food already sat covered at their seats in hopes to prevent any intrusion. It was a warm setting, one that remained dim so as to not outshine the stars above.

Mary stepped in further, circling to take in everything around her with a beaming smile before landing on Reuben. He looked on at her with fondness, the most gentle expression she had ever seen from him that was enough to make her cry. He followed in after her and took her hand, guiding her to the table to sit. She took a deep breath, still gazing at the scenery before her.

"I don't know what to say..." She finally whispered.

"Your face says enough." He noticed her cheeks redden and he smirked in amusement. They poured themselves a glass of wine before taking the covers from their plates. Reuben's smile widened when she gasped in excitement at the sight of the food. "Had it specially made for you." He winked and they began to eat.

Mary hummed at the first bite, having been the best meal she had since she'd arrived. They nursed their drinks throughout the supper, talking and poking fun at one another as if they'd known each other for years. She wasn't sure if it was the wine or the atmosphere, but it was the most she had felt at ease.

"I used your cloak the other day," Mary's eyes glimmered in curiosity. "I'd say it's the most comfortable one in my collection."

"Was it really?!" She perked up. "It wasn't overbearing was it? Not too much?" Reuben smiled at her onslaught of questions.

"It was perfect, my dear." Her hands clapped together with joy.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me!"

"Well, I'm sure it's not the first time you've received such a compliment with all that you did in the village." He raised a brow.

"Not often at all, I'm afraid. Even still, I'm more thrilled with the fact that I'm actually doing something bigger with my material, something better where my work is finally paying off." Reuben noticed the relief in her winsome eyes as she rested her chin in her hand dreamily. "I only wish my mother were here to see how far I've come." The catcher stood up when her expression grew with melancholy, walking over to a nearby end table along the wall as he spoke.

"She would've been the proudest mother in the village, no doubt."

Mary heard him fiddle with something on the table's surface, followed by light scratching when music began to play. The sound of an orchestral piece brought an extra sense of comfort and she smiled at him as he made his way over, holding his hand out to her.

"Care for a dance, my lady?" The woman hesitated.

"I - I don't know how." Reuben tilted his head.

"Then I'll teach you." She thought for a moment, looking away in embarrassment. But he was patient.

It paid off when she finally took hold of his hand and allowed him to whisk her away to the center of the balcony. One hand took hold of her waist while the other stayed joined with her own, her other placed on his shoulder.

"I just want you to follow my footing." She took an anxious breath and nodded. He began slower, allowing her to match his steps. "1 - 2 - 3," He mumbled. She stumbled a bit at first, apologizing for every misstep which he quickly dismissed, but after a few rotations she started to get the hang of it. "That's it." Reuben cooed and began to move quicker to match the music.

Mary began to giggle in enjoyment when she began to get the hang of it, allowing herself to focus more on the moment rather than worrying about her footwork. He returned her joy with a smile and decided to spin her. She shrieked in surprise, laughter pouring out when he pulled her back in close enough for their chests to touch. His hand moved to rest on her lower back, her own tickling the back of his neck beneath his hair.

The tempo of the song slowed, as did their movements. Their heightened cheerfulness died down to simple appreciation, but their gentle smiles remained. With both of their arms wrapped around the other they began to truly focus on one another. They took in every detail, every minuscule expression that crossed the other's face with admiration as they rocked themselves gracefully.

"I don't want to leave this moment." Reuben hummed at her comment.

"I believe you said that the last time we had a moment." Mary clicked her tongue.

"You know what I mean." He hummed again.

"I do. But if we never left that last moment, then we wouldn't have had this one." Mary simply sighed and laid her head in the crook of his neck.

"I can't remember the last time I've truly been this happy." He was left speechless as Mary looked up at him longingly, eyes glancing at his lips before she laid a soft kiss atop of them.

Chapter 4

Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader

*Set prior to The Force Awakens*

Summary -

Forged in blood. Bound by duty. Broken by desire.

(Y/n) (L/n) is a deadly Umbral of the Covenant - an elite order of vampires sworn to the First Order. Her assignment: serve as General Hux's personal guard. But as buried secrets surface and a rogue vampire faction rises, (Y/n) is forced to confront a past she can't outrun - and feelings she was never meant to have.

In a war of blood, betrayal, and duty, the deadliest threat may be the one that lies still in her chest.

Series contains - Blood, violence, battles/war, betrayal/angst, eventual smut, slow burn

The door hissed closed behind her, sealing out the clinical brightness of the corridor. Dim, ambient lighting filled the compact but private space assigned to her. An austere First Order officer’s quarters, modified slightly to accommodate a Covenant elite.

Her boots hit the floor with a dull thud once pulled off, followed by the slow release of her harness. Piece by piece, she shed the image of a soldier, her black Umbral uniform folded neatly over the ottoman at the foot of her bed. Only then did she stretch - shoulders rolling, spine cracking softly - as if the weight of the day had settled deeper into her bones than she let anyone see.

With a huff, she crossed to the small wall-mounted refrigeration unit in the kitchenette and retrieved a sealed blood pack, marked with the Covenant’s insignia. Twisting the cap open, she drank from it without ceremony. The crimson liquid was cool and iron-rich, satiating her hunger with clinical precision, but not without the flicker of ancient instinct.

A small sigh escaped her lips as she leaned back against the counter, eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as the day’s events caught up with her. 

It had been a few days since they first suspected the Resistance was harboring a rogue Covenant faction. Herself and Varo had visited each other that night to discuss the issue and grieve over the betrayal that their own kind committed. After all they had been through, going against their own species was an option they never thought would be on the table. 

Steam began to cloud from the refresher as she turned on the shower. Her reflection caught in the darkened mirror. Unnaturally pale skin, the shimmering yet pale gold of her eyes, and the ever-present weight behind her gaze. Not tired, not weak. Guarded.

She stepped into the shower. The water was searing hot, meant more to cleanse her mind than her body. The sound drowned out the hum of the ship. For once, she allowed herself to just feel. The rippling heat against her normally cold skin, a foreign feeling to her rhythmless heart. The steam curled through her hair, head tilted back as she let the water run over her face.

When she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, she looked strangely younger. Not in appearance, but in silence. The storm behind her eyes had calmed, if only for a moment.

She slipped into a set of issued black sleepwear and sat on the edge of her bed, datapad in hand. Her eyes scanned the text with machine-like precision. Reports, updates, combat performance logs. But as she scrolled, her gaze slowed on one item. A personnel file.

General Hux, Armitage

“Armitage?” She mumbled to herself curiously. Her finger hovered over the file, hesitating. 

She tapped it open.

It wasn’t invasive. Just basic service records. Public to internal ranks. Dates. Promotions. Assignments. 

At least, that’s what she told herself. 

But she lingered longer than necessary. Not for intelligence. Something else.

Her thumb hesitated before swiping the screen away and powering off the datapad.

For a brief moment, she sat in silence, staring at nothing. No orders. No commands. No expectations. Just a woman forged into something sharp. Sitting alone in the dark, still searching for the pieces that made her whole.

The lights dimmed further at her mental prompt.

She lay back on the bed. No armor. No duty. No one watching.

Just (Y/n). 

The hum of the Finalizer’s systems faded into the background. Lying in the quiet dark, (Y/n)’s eyes finally drifted shut.

The great courtyard of the Covenant’s inner sanctum was bathed in the violet hue of the twin moons. Tall, obsidian spires reached up around the ceremonial space where graduates were gathering, fresh from their final trials.

(Y/n) stood near the edge of the crowd. Lean, composed, her black cloak still streaked with ash from the Gauntlet. Beside her stood her closest friend. They had trained together, bled together, whispered their plans under moonlight while the others slept.

Her friend’s smile was tight. Her golden eyes flickered. Not with pride, but with something hollow. Something new.

“Umbral Academy,” she said, as if the words tasted bitter. “You and Varo. Chosen.”

(Y/n) furrowed her brow. “You forgot yourself, Zera. The High Lords -”

“Are finished with their selections for the remainder of the year.” Zera’s voice cracked, a tremble buried beneath her control. “I wasn’t one of them.”

(Y/n) blinked. “What? That’s… No, that’s a mistake. We’ll appeal -”

“No. You’ll go. Without me.” Zera stepped back, her jaw clenched, her voice sharp now with jealousy. “You always had their eyes on you. You and Varo. I was just the shadow in your wake, made to look worse so you could look better.”

“Zera, that’s not true -” (Y/n) moved forward, confused, reaching for her arm.

But Zera recoiled. Her expression was carved from stone now, guarded and venomous. “They said I lacked the instinct. The control. That I wouldn’t survive a night in the academy.”

“I didn’t know,” (Y/n) murmured. “I didn’t want this without you, we’ve talked about this for -”

“Four years!” Zera interrupted, eyes flashing with something darker now. Other Duskborns began to watch the pair of them as it escalated. “Four years, and you’re just leaving like it meant nothing to you! You were the only good thing I ever had, (Y/n)!”

(Y/n) went to speak, but Varo cut in. 

“It’s not her choice, it’s the Covenant’s.” He defended firmly. 

“Quiet, Drenn!” She snapped, turning back to (Y/n). “After everything we said about not leaving each other. About being there through everything, no matter the cost!” Zera looked between the two of them before she took a step back. “Forget it.” She spat with venom before turning to leave. 

(Y/n) took a step after her, then froze. Something in the air shifted. Too quickly, what they thought was unbreakable, had already been severed.

Varo was silent for a moment. Watching. He met (Y/n)’s eyes and gave a faint shake of his head.

“We can’t help her. She needs to figure this out herself.” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders with a solemn expression. 

And (Y/n) knew, deep down, he was right.

(Y/n) sat bolt upright, the memory like a blade to the ribs. Her breathing was unsteady, but her eyes… distant. Haunted.

She didn’t weep. She hadn’t in years. But that scar, deep and invisible, throbbed like a fresh wound.

Zera.

The name echoed like a whisper in the back of her mind.

Still in the dark, (Y/n) turned to the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around herself. 

The sharp rhythm of boots echoed through the corridor. Varo walked at (Y/n)’s side, his stride easy, relaxed despite the rigid order of the Finalizer’s halls. His head tilted slightly towards her.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” he said casually, “I’m pretty sure the Wraith Commander gave you the better assignment just because he was afraid of you.”

(Y/n) raised a brow, her voice cool. “ Him? Afraid?” 

“Well, you did break that instructor’s arm during blade training.” Varo gave a mock shiver. 

“He told me to stop holding back.”

“You shattered his elbow.” He deadpanned.

“His stance was weak.”

Varo grinned, tilting his head. “Remind me never to spar with you again. I quite like my bones in one piece.”

“They’ll heal.” (Y/n) didn’t smile, but the corner of her mouth twitched, just enough to show she wasn’t entirely made of steel.

“Well regardless,” Varo continued, “you get to shadow the general. Meanwhile, I’m stuck listening to Phasma bark orders at people half her size.”

“She’s efficient,” (Y/n) said, with a faintly amused glance. “And terrifying.”

“Exactly. I admire her… From a safe distance.”

They turned a corner, passing by a few stormtroopers who gave a wide berth to the two Umbrals. One even hesitated before saluting, a twitch of nervousness as their cloaks swept past.

Varo dropped his voice slightly, leaning a bit towards (Y/n). “But admit it. Watching people fumble around Hux while trying to impress him is a little entertaining.”

(Y/n) didn’t respond right away. Then, quietly, she murmured, “He sees through it. That’s what makes it worse for them.” She smirked. 

Varo laughed under his breath. “Stars, you’re getting soft. Next thing I know, you’ll be complimenting his hair.”

(Y/n) gave him a sideways glance. “It’s always perfectly parted. Not much to critique.”

“Maker help us,” Varo grinned.

(Y/n) shook her head with a faint exhale. “I hope you know that during this conversation I’ve been deciding whether to stab you or ignore you.”

“Either way,” he said with a chuckle, “at least I’d die knowing I made you smile.”

They reached the final corridor leading to the bridge. Their banter faded slightly, replaced with the calm professionalism both had been trained to resume in operational zones.

(Y/n) and Varo stepped in side by side, their long, dark cloaks catching the sterile light.

Varo leaned slightly towards her one last time. “Try not to glare too hard. Some of the crew still think you drink souls.”

(Y/n) smirked without looking at him. “Only on weekends.”

He snorted and gave her a casual nod before veering off to the left. “Captain Phasma’s waiting. Try not to miss me.”

As Varo disappeared into the far side of the bridge, (Y/n)’s eyes scanned the command walkway and there, just ahead, stood General Hux.

Clad in his sharp uniform, he was facing the forward viewport, the glint of the stars outside casting a cold sheen on his fiery hair. He didn’t look up immediately, but he was already aware of her arrival after hearing her familiar voice. A sound he found himself growing more accustomed to, and maybe even favor.

She approached with fluid precision, stopping just beside him.

“General Hux,” she said clearly, but her voice gave off a friendlier introduction than usual.

He glanced up, his expression unreadable but unmistakably aware. His gaze swept her form. 

“Umbral (L/n),” he acknowledged. “You’re punctual.”

“I was assigned to your command. Punctuality is expected.” She poked with a knowing look.

A moment passed between them. Not tense, but taut with subtle energy. Unspoken understanding, and the awareness of watchful eyes on the bridge.

Then, as he turned, she fell into step beside him, unobtrusive but unquestionably present.

As they walked, several officers along the command stations subtly glanced their way, some with the flicker of uncertainty in their expressions before Hux stopped at one of the terminals to look over a new report.

(Y/n)’s eyes remained alert, her senses sweeping the room. She could feel the tension. The curiosity. The fear.

Good.

Hux glanced sidelong at her. “They’ll get used to it. Eventually.”

“I’d prefer it if they didn’t,” (Y/n) replied, her voice low enough for only him to hear.

His lips twitched, just barely. “Likewise.”

The quiet buzz of the bridge was momentarily disrupted as Captain Voss entered from the far side, his footsteps deliberate and heavy. He stood a few paces away from (Y/n) and General Hux, pausing for a brief moment before speaking.

“General,” Voss greeted, his voice as sharp and professional as ever, but with a particular emphasis on the word General, as if reminding everyone of their roles. His eyes flicked briefly to (Y/n), who remained standing stoically beside Hux.

Hux didn’t immediately respond as he was watching the report flicker across the terminal, his eyes scanning the data. “Captain.”

Voss stepped closer, his boots echoing with each step, a tablet in his hand. “Updates from the fleet, sir,” he said, still careful to avoid directly acknowledging (Y/n), but it was impossible to ignore the slight narrowing of his eyes as they briefly met hers. “I trust the Umbral has settled in… comfortably by now?”

The words weren’t directly insulting, but the bite behind them was unmistakable. (Y/n)’s gaze didn’t falter. She simply stared, a perfect mask of professionalism. She wouldn’t let him get under her skin. Not here, not now.

However, Varo, who had been standing nearby and quietly observing the exchange, didn’t miss the undertone. His brow furrowed slightly as he stepped closer, his eyes narrowing in irritation. The thought of intervening crossed his mind, but before he could open his mouth, Hux spoke first, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Captain Voss,” Hux said coolly. “I would appreciate it if you would refrain from insinuating things that are neither relevant nor professional in the presence of my personal guard.”

Varo froze for a split second, surprised by the quickness of the response. He could feel the shift in the air as Hux’s sharp tone pierced through the murmur of the bridge. Voss blinked, momentarily taken aback. “My apologies, sir. I wasn’t aware I was offending,” Voss replied, his tone now more clipped, but his eyes still glinting with that same passive-aggressive edge.

“Umbral (L/n) is not to be the subject of your personal musings, do I make myself clear?”

Varo smirked, standing just behind the captain, sensing the rare moment of discomfort in Voss. Voss stilled, his hand gripping the tablet tighter.

“Yes, sir,” he responded stiffly, the forced politeness thick in his voice.

The silence lingered for a moment before Hux finally shifted his attention back to the captain, the brief interruption passing as if it never happened.

“What have you found?” Hux asked, gesturing to the tablet in Voss’s hand.

For a second, Voss opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he simply nodded and began to speak about the fleet’s movements. His words lost a bit of their earlier venom, though the flicker of resentment never fully disappeared. It was clear that he was no longer willing to test Hux’s patience at that moment.

(Y/n) didn’t react outwardly, her face remained a perfect mask. But inside, she allowed herself a fleeting moment of satisfaction, and dare she say appreciation. Hux had handled the situation with precise authority, making sure to put Voss back in his place.

Varo, however, couldn’t resist a small chuckle as he leaned in a bit closer to (Y/n). “Didn’t think the General had it in him,” he muttered for only her to hear, his grin amused but still holding a touch of concern.

(Y/n) didn’t look at him, but she did respond quietly. “Neither did I.” Her eyes looked over the general’s face as he spoke with Voss, unaware of how she found herself admiring him. The shadow of his cheek bones, the movement of his eyes and curve of his nose -

“Time and place, (L/n).” Varo teased, breaking her out of her stare and elbowing him sharply in the ribs making him huff with a chuckle. 

The silence in the room lingered after Captain Voss’s departure. His passive-aggressive remarks had left a slight chill in the air, but the tension began to dissipate as personnel moved back to their stations after eavesdropping, giving the trio a moment of quiet.

(Y/n)’s eyes flicked between Hux, who was absorbed in the tablet given to him, and Varo, who appeared to be in his usual playful mood despite the recent exchange. Varo, never one to leave a tense moment without attempting to lighten it, glanced at (Y/n) and gave her a knowing smirk.

“Well, that went well, don’t you think?”

(Y/n)’s lips twitched into a barely perceptible smirk, but she didn’t say anything. At least, not until Varo continued.

“I mean, you did have that whole ‘silent rage’ thing going on - very intimidating. I’d be scared to cross you.”

(Y/n) glanced sideways at Varo, her eyebrow raising slightly, but she couldn’t hide the hint of amusement in her gaze. “If you keep making jokes like that, Varo, I might actually consider crossing you .”

Varo’s grin widened, and he threw a quick, playful glance toward Hux, who hadn’t looked up from the tablet. With a calculated, dramatic pause, Varo leaned closer to (Y/n), lowering his voice to a whisper.

“I’m just saying, if you did, we’d probably have to drag you away from him before Hux starts thinking you two are too close.” Another jab in his side. 

The quip made (Y/n)’s eyes narrow, but she held back a quiet chuckle. Hux, who had been focusing intently on the report, suddenly glanced up, a sharp, cutting gaze landing on both of them.

Hux spoke dryly. “If you two are quite finished, I suggest you save the idle chatter for later.”

Varo, ever the opportunist, turned to Hux with feigned seriousness.

“Of course, General. Just keeping the morale up.” He glanced sideways at (Y/n), his expression turning faux-pensive. “It’s hard, you know? Being the only source of entertainment.”

Hux stared at him for a moment with an unreadable expression on his face before his gaze switched to (Y/n) who had the faintest smirk. Figuring that the Umbrals had slight leeway given their status, the general decided to humor him.

“You’d be surprised how little your ‘entertainment’ is needed, Drenn.” He paused in hesitation. “But if it helps you two get through the day, I suppose I can allow it on occasion.”

Varo grinned and gave a half-bow, completely unfazed by the general’s dry retort. (Y/n), watching this back-and-forth, finally allowed herself a brief chuckle, one that she quickly masked with a more stoic expression, but Hux had already caught it and he looked at her longer than necessary in masked amusement. The lightness between the three of them was palpable.

Just as the tension was beginning to ease, the door to the bridge opened and a soft chime echoed through the room, signaling an incoming message.

“ General Hux, the Grand Master requires your presence in the War Room immediately. ”

The playful atmosphere that Varo had tried to create faded slightly as the business of the day returned, but there was still a slight, lingering warmth to the moment.

“I suppose we’ll have to continue this conversation later, Umbral Drenn. You can make your jokes when I’m not in the middle of a meeting, though I’m sure I’d be ‘thrilled’ by your input.”

Varo shot him a mock, two-fingered salute, a teasing grin still in place.

“I’ll try to contain my enthusiasm, General. Wouldn’t want to distract you from the really important stuff, right?” He shot (Y/n) a quick, conspiratorial glance, the joke hanging between them.

“Keep it down, will you?” (Y/n) pressed. 

“The two of you together are insufferable. Let’s go, (L/n).” Hux urged. 

With that, the two left the bridge, making their way towards the door to the War Room and entering. 

The War Room was dimly lit, its walls lined with shifting holo-maps and live feeds from the far reaches of First Order space. A single long table dominated the room, displaying an active projection of disputed sectors and blinking alerts. Hux stood at the head of the table, his posture rigid as always. 

(Y/n) stood to his right and the general noticed her take a soothing deep breath uncharacteristically. 

“Nervous?” He questioned her. She glanced at him. 

“The Grand Master is the Covenant’s equivalent to the Supreme Leader. The highest elder of our kind.” Her head turned to look at Hux. “I would be.”

The air shifted slightly as the holo-communicator pulsed and activated, forming the image of the Grand Master of the Covenant. Draped in ceremonial black and crimson, his eyes were sharp beneath the weight of age and authority. The halo of his mantle flickered faintly, feeding off the shadows like it hungered.

“General Hux. Umbral (L/n).” He nodded in acknowledgement. His tone was unreadable, neither warm nor hostile.

Hux spoke. “Grand Master. Thank you for joining us.”

“The matter warranted it. You have reports of a Resistance-aligned unit employing techniques unnatural for mortals. I cannot tolerate such rumors under my careful watch for the sake of my kind.”

A pause.

“I assume this is not an exaggeration of your kind’s military incompetence.”

The general didn’t flinch. He was used to the Covenant’s thinly veiled disdain.

“You are correct to assume, Grand Master. These attacks are not the doing of amateurs. We’ve faced Resistance operatives on countless occasions. This is different.”

(Y/n)’s eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressing into a firm line. She stepped forward, speaking for the first time. 

“They strike in the dark, Grand Master. With coordination and precision that suggests training. Covenant training with attempted Umbral elements. These are not mere recruits or fledglings.”

The Grand Master tilted his head, his expression sharpening as if considering her worthiness to speak.

“And you believe them to be… rogues?”

“With the knowledge of my training and what I’ve assessed, I don’t know what else they could be.”

“You presume treason. A bold accusation. Especially from one so newly graduated.”

Hux’s voice cut in, calm but authoritative.

“We have firsthand knowledge of Covenant methods from Umbrals (L/n) and Drenn, and my own of the First Order. We’ve reviewed the evidence together. The similarities are unmistakable.”

Another pause. The Grand Master’s eyes moved from Hux back to (Y/n). 

“If what you suggest is true, then this would be an unsanctioned breach of the Blood Accord. The punishment for such betrayal is execution.”

He stepped back slightly in his projection. Behind him, the faint silhouettes of the High Lords flickered into view, standing in silent consensus.

“You are authorized, Umbral (L/n), to investigate this matter further with the support of the First Order. Should your findings confirm the presence of a rogue Covenant faction…”

A beat.

“You will have the full authority of the Covenant to eliminate them. All of them.”

A flicker of darkness passed over (Y/n)’s face. Determination, resolve and dread entwined. She gave a silent nod.

“As you command. Thank you, Grand Master.” She bowed her head with a hand crossed over onto her heart. 

“You are not alone in this. I also grant Umbral Drenn operational liberty. I suspect the two of you will perform well, given your history. The Council expects discretion… but finality.”

The Grand Master’s gaze locked once more with (Y/n)’s, this time more direct. It was personal.

“They took their oath, Umbral. They chose exile. They chose treason. And we will provide no mercy for such actions. Show them the price of turning their fangs on their own. Honor in Loyalty, Umbral.”

“Strength in Silence, Grand Master.”

With a flicker, the projection faded, and the War Room fell into silence.

Hux didn’t move for a moment, the two of them digesting the gravity of what had just transpired. Then, without looking at (Y/n), he spoke. 

“Well. That settles the question of what we do next.”

(Y/n) stood quietly beside him and he finally looked at her with the smallest hint of concern. Her gaze was downcast as she was frozen and he caught a familiar emotion in her gaze. 

Betrayal. 

Serenity - Chapter 6

Masterlist

Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.

As days passed along Mary's work began to pay off, her project progressing gracefully. But it wasn't until it was finished that she was able to truly see the beauty of it. It didn't look exactly how she sketched and imagined it as she made improvisations along the way, but it surpassed her expectations by far. It almost had her dress beat, and that was something she never would've thought could happen.

As she gazed at her work through her small candlelight she heard a tap on the doors of the shop, whipping her head around to see who it was. It was in vain, however, as the dark of the night cloaked whatever it was. She set down the candle and quietly stepped over to the doors, carefully opening one and peeking out. Over to the left? Nothing. Over to the right -

"Reuben!" She exclaimed in a whisper with excitement. She took a closer look around the plaza before stepping outside completely, leaving the door ajar behind her. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me." She teased through a rush of courage the recently completed assignment gave her. He offered a mischievous smile in return.

"How could I ever forget the so-lovely seamstress of Vulgaria?" He flattered with a small bow and the wave of his hand. Mary's cheeks warmed and she bashfully turned away, something he relished in. "How is it coming along?" He watched as she faced him again with a deepening smile, motioning for him to follow her into the shop. Looking back at him she placed a finger over her lips to signal for him to keep quiet, then leading him towards the back of the shop where the mannequin sat.

His eyes widened, mouth agape as he caught sight of the coat. Even under the dim light it was a sight to behold. Sure, it was just another one of his disguises, but he knew full well he could never toss such a thing. The attention to detail, careful stitching. None of the workers at the castle could provide anything that articulate. And Mary eagerly watched his every expression, proud to be able to pull such a reaction from the fearsome Child Catcher.

"There's still loose strands and bits that need to be touched up, but other than that it's finished." She carefully pulled the coat off of the mannequin and handed it to him, watching as he slid it on with a smirk. He held his arms out at his sides in a silent question with a cock of his head. Mary slowly eyed him up and down, then met his eyes with a nod. However, she stepped closer and reached up to remove his hat.

"I have an idea." She stated simply and turned to set it on the table.

She grabbed some ribbon and loose pieces of leftover fabric, tying and twisting and knotting with her back to him. He furrowed his brow in curiosity until she turned around. The ribbon had been tied around his hat, the front decorated with a small bundle of flowers to complement the coat. She replaced the hat atop his head and stood back with a child-like smile.

"It's not much, but it sure does bring it all together." Reuben looked around, finding a standing mirror in a nearby corner. He made his way over and began twisting and turning, testing it out with some fluid motions he liked to use. "I tried my best to keep it lightweight for you."

"Well, it certainly is."

"How does it look?" Mary stood next to him, gazing at him through the mirror.

"Fit for a candy man." He watched as Mary suddenly tensed, about to question her when he heard a creak sound from upstairs. They stood still as a statue, waiting for another noise. Just as they thought they were in the clear another creak sounded and Mary's eyes began to glaze over in fear.

"Reuben?" They looked at each other and he noticed her jump at another creak before she began nudging him to the doors of the shop, rushing themselves outside.

As the door shut behind them Mary moved outside the view of the window and leaned against the wall. Reuben, having already taken off the coat, folded it neatly to rest over his arm as Mary took his hat once more to untie the ribbon, laying the same way.

"Just tie that around whenever you need to use it," She spoke hurriedly, glancing behind her every few seconds. "I'm sorry, but he - he can't know, Reuben, he just can't -" A gloved hand rested lightly over her mouth.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me." He, too, glanced behind her. "Go back inside before he sees." Mary nodded, whispering a quiet 'okay' to herself and casting him one last look before entering.

Just as the door shut Mary's father began stepping down into the shop. She began snipping at some nearby fabric to make it seem like she was busy while her father eyed her with a squint.

"What do you think you're doin'?" Mary stopped, keeping her head down as he creeped closer to where she was. She could feel his breath on her neck as his body heat radiated behind her. Nausea began setting in, bile making its way up into the back of her throat.

"I'm - I'm just -"

"You think I'm stupid or somethin'?"

"No, Pa." She whispered as her heart began skipping beats.

"You ain't fiddlin around, you ain't workin on nothin." He caught her chin in a harsh grip, yanking her head to face him. "I thought I told you never to be around him." She held her breath as the heavy smell of alcohol waved off of his own.

"I didn't -"

"Don't lie to me!" He suddenly yelled as he slammed his other fist onto the table. "I don't give second chances, so next time I see you whoring around with that sadist it'll be your last." He shoved her face away and she stumbled back, watching as he stomped his way back upstairs.

The next morning was cold. Quiet. No bird sang. Not a single word was spoken amongst the small family. Charles took his usual seat in the corner while her mother continued to tidy up the shop between fixings.

"Liebling?" Mary turned to face her mother. "Would you mind going into the market for me today?"

"What about the shop?" The younger woman paused her stitching and set it down.

"I'll take care of it."

"Are you sure, Ma?" Her mother gave her a pointed look and Mary took the hint. She grabbed a shawl and threw it over her shoulders before taking the basket to head out.

Thankfully the plaza wasn't as packed as it was the last time they visited. She felt eyes on her back as she passed by other villagers, however. Mary paid them no mind, used to the judgemental stares as she went about her merry way. Stand after stand, shop after shop, the basket was growing heavier than she had expected, and she still had the journey back to the shop. She didn't even realize how far she had ventured until she began to make her way back.

Just as she passed an alleyway she yelped when something pulled her into it. A gloved hand motioned for her to be quiet and she smiled, then worriedly glanced around.

"What are you doing here?" He reached into his coat pocket and she heard a small jingle as he fished out a handful of coins.

"Thought I'd pay you before I forgot." Mary slowly began to shake her head in disagreement.

"I never asked you to."

"What you made doesn't come free." He reached down to take her hand and placed the coins in it, closing her fingers on top of it. Mary looked up at Reuben and was startled at how close their faces were. Should either of them move the slightest bit, their noses would touch.

And yet neither of them moved.

They continued staring at one another as their eyes danced over the other's face, taking in the smallest features they never noticed before. Every line, wrinkle, mole and freckle.

When her eyes met with his she couldn't help but be mesmerized. They were a unique hazel that one could easily get lost in, one that she was already lost in. His nose was what captivated her the most. It was a disturbing feature to most, but to Mary he wouldn't be the same without it. She thought if anyone would be able to pull it off it would be him, and he did it well to say the least.

"I -" She breathed, but couldn't quite find the right words. She noticed his eyes flick down to her lips, causing her to follow suit. Time seemed to slow as they inched closer, Reuben maneuvering his head to keep his nose out of the way. Despite the effort, she felt it lightly brush against her cheek and it sent a shiver down her spine. She felt his breath fan over her lips, just beginning to brush over when a shout sounded in the distance.

Their heads snapped to the street and Mary's heart sank. The shout mixed with a scream coming from a second person. She began to set off in the direction of it when Reuben snatched her wrist, eyeing her warily when she looked back at him. She gently pulled away from his grip and continued backing into the street.

As Mary reached it her pace turned into a brisk walk, face contorted into one of worry as she bypassed villagers who looked on with a similar expression. As she looked at those around her on her way to the shop she grew more and more concerned, breathing growing shallow.

For the umpteenth time that week she crept into the shop, taking a deep breath before facing the small room to find it empty. Her eyes turned up to the floor above, losing her own sense of time as she practically crawled to the stairs. With each step the seconds slowed further and further. She held onto the floor of the living area as she peeked over it from the stairs, eyes widening at the sight of her father hunched over her mother's body.

"Ma..." Mary whispered, gathering her skirt as she trotted up the last few steps to make her way over to them. "Ma!" She rushed as her father began to sob. She was about to kneel down with him when he suddenly grew quiet, enraged as he twisted to face her.

"You -"

"Pa..."

"Bitch!" Mary lept to the side with a shriek as a vase was launched her way, crashing and shattering as it hit the wall. In a flash her father's hands were latched onto her braid and used it as leverage to ram her head into the wall.

Everything became a blur as she collapsed. Her hearing was muffled. As much as she tried to move, the pounding in her head refused to let her.

You run. Her mother's words repeated themselves to Mary. You run far away from here and never come back.

She whimpered as she struggled to push herself off of the floor, stumbling into the wall as dizziness hit her next. Her eyes wandered the room in search of her father and found him distracted by her mother again, so she took the chance to make her way back down the stairs as fast as she could in her current state.

At first Mary took her time as she gradually regained her senses, but the harsh sound of Charles' footsteps flooded her with anxiety and she bolted. Weaving and stumbling through the crowds of villagers, her run turned into a sprint when her father began catching up to her.

Just as he was about to reach her she knocked over a shelf, and him along with it. As he struggled to get out from under it she stared for a second before setting off once more.

"Giddyap!" The catcher's cage sped down the street towards the frightened woman, followed by a group of soldiers on their horses.

She stilled and thought about her choices, that is however straight she could think in the first place. Her body set itself to flight as she caught sight of her father again and took Reuben's hand that was outstretched to her, pulling her up to sit next to him before cracking his whip and turning his horse around.

"Foolish girl, you should've never gone after them." He looked over at her to see her face completely drained of its color.

Blood ran down from the side of her forehead, vibrant against her skin. The area around the wound had already begun to bruise and continued to pound, taking on a migraine. She had no energy to cry. No energy to mourn, to talk, to panic. She felt drained, tired. She wasn't sure if it was because of her head or what had just happened. Mary simply groaned and leaned her head back against the cage, eyes screwed shut in pain.

Otto Octavius Wallpaper/Aesthetic

*i do not own any of the original photos, credit goes to their rightful owners*