Friends, I’m undertaking a wild project for this year’s FanExpo; a regency-inspired Hux costume.
I bought a pretty cheap jacket/vest combo to alter, though I’ll have to be clever with the trim to achieve the right lapel look. I have all the ribbons for a rosette for the hat (which will be an enormous bicorn, feathers are being debated) and probably just going to wear leggings with tall boots.
I have a couple of FO pins for the center of the rosette and to use as a cravat pin. IF I have the time I’ll be making molds of them to make a clasp for a sword belt as well. I have a Royal Navy sabre and sheath already but I’ll have to find a plastic sword in place of the real one to pass the props check.
Of course all of this hinges on the jacket actually arriving in time for me to alter and add a thousand buttons and yards of trim to. If it doesn’t, I’ll fall back on my recruitment officer costume again which I had a lot of fun with last year.
Will update as things progress, but here’s the ribbons I’m using for the rosette;
I thought the scalloped lace made a nice detail for a dress uniform.
Story Summary: The General is cornered… Upon returning from a successful campaign in Battle of Waterloo, Armitage Hux knows he has no excuses left; he must produce the much-needed heir. The problem is, when the two of you parted five years ago, it was not in the best of terms. Now, he may not find his wife, you, so willing as he first expected, nor keen on taking part in any of his political games. [Hux x Reader – Hux x You – Regency AU].
Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.
In the General’s Bed - Regency Hux x Reader - Ch. 1 - To love a General
A/N: Hello xD Decided to update In the General’s Bed to here as well. It’s a Regency story set in England, 1815. So it will contain historical elements and important figures of that time. I truly hope you like it xD
Story Summary: The General is cornered… Upon returning from a successful campaign in Battle of Waterloo, Armitage Hux knows he has no excuses left; he must produce the much-needed heir. The problem is, when the two of you parted five years ago, it was not in the best of terms. Now, he may not find his wife, you, so willing as he first expected, nor keen on taking part in any of his political games. [Hux x Reader – Hux x You – Regency AU].
Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.
A small smile crept to your lips at the boy’s excitement. He squirmed in your arms, trying excitedly to stand up on his bouncy legs and move away from you. That and the trotting sound getting closer and closer made you look up.
Definitely not the actions of a boy excited because of a drawing of his favorite animal in a lost paper in the middle of a children’s book.
As soon as your eyes settled on the source of the boy’s happiness your own vanished.
The smile died in your lips.
It was clear the boy was happy because he saw a real horse. And he simply loved horses. You were sure he would be a great rider — greater than his talented father — when his time comes.
With him still squirming in your hold — he had no idea how dangerous horses could be to a creature as small as himself —, you kneeled on the picnic blanket and glared at him. He was usually a very sweet and well-behaved boy, but he got too excited around huge animals.
“Behave, will you, little Lord?”
He pouted, and if he were any other child, he would have cried. But he was too damn stubborn to cry — just like his father. His big, round and chestnut eyes stared at you with some sort of resentment. He simply hated to be told what to do.
Contrary to most people, you were not affected by this and rose to your feet. Smoothing the fabric of your mousseline dress, you pursed your lips into a thin line.
The visitor — the horseman the boy heard — was not a welcome one, which was kind of ironic, considering he was your estranged husband.
“Stay here.”
“But—
“Lux, do I need to remind you I don’t like when you complain?”
His eyes were full of tears now. He did not cry, however. Too damn stubborn. Too sweet to upset you further with a whiny behavior. Biting your bottom lip — you regretted your tone; you were too harsh with him —, you ruffled his ginger hair and smiled reassuringly at him before stepping away and closer to the stranger entering the property.
“I am sorry, Mama.”
His apology went by unheard by you. Your heart was thundering in your chest and the now stronger breeze did not help your hearing in the least.
Breathe, Y/N. Just breathe.
You told yourself you would be ready for this confrontation a hundred of times. Yet, as the years went by without a word from him, you grew sure he was as good as dead. He was, after all, at the War and people died at Wars. Even though skilled — a General, responsible for his own Battalion and held accountable for numberless victories for the Empire —, he could have fallen. The greatest warriors fell eventually, and Armitage Hux was but a man.
Turns out you were not ready.
You doubted you would ever be.
Feelings of resentment, anger, disappointment, abandonment all filled you, leaving you on the verge of tears. But just like the tiny boy you held in your arms seconds earlier, you were too stubborn to cry.
Biting the inside of your cheeks, you waited for him to dismount and look at you.
He didn’t.
Well, he did dismount his horse and held its reigns tightly in his left hand; the right removed the Wellington hat covering his neatly combed ginger hair before he bowed head towards you in a gentlemanly gesture.
“Lady Hux…”
You stood there, agape, for what seemed like hours.
He was different.
Very different from the man who left you so many years ago. Long gone were the beard and the shoulder-length red hair.
Albeit older now, he looked younger. And paler… and slimmer.
Realizing that you took too much time looking at him in eerie, awkward silence, you closed your eyes and mimicked his gesture. There was a lot you wanted to tell him and even more that you wanted to ask — why did he left without a word, why did he stay silent for five long years, why did he hate you so much? —, but you stopped yourself as you heard the sound of not only more horses trotting, but of a carriage approaching as well.
Of course, he was not alone. It was stupid of you to have thought so.
He arched one light eyebrow at you, waiting for your answer. Embarrassed for messing up the etiquette rules expected of you — a Marquise none the less —, you bowed dutifully.
“My Lord... It has been…” You bit your bottom lip and kept looking down as etiquette demanded, even if you wanted to shoot him dead with your eyes alone. “A long time.”
“Indeed,” he replied; his voice calm. It was not needed to be a genius to know he was looking past you. If his curious intonation was of any indication…
Quicker than a lightening crossing the skies before a storm, Lux ran to you, hiding behind your legs. You could feel his small face against the fabric of your dress, his hand pulling it as he demanded silently to be held in your arms.
“Mama! Who is—
“Lux, what did I—
“Lord Hux, it’s good to see you back and well.” A soft, but firm voice reached the three of you. The boy looked up at the familiar face and outstretched his arms. Rae Sloane did not get him in her arms, instead, she offered her hand and gestured towards the house. “Come along, Lux, it’s time for supper.”
If it was any other talking to him, he probably would have said I don’t want to in a whiny tone, but he never said no to Rae Sloane. Well, you doubted someone ever did. If there was someone the boy both feared and respected, she was certainly the one.
You smiled in spite of yourself.
Rae was not a mother, but she was gifted with children. She never raised her voice nor needed to act harshly; children respected her without any of these subterfuges. The same could not be said about you. As much as Lux loved you, he had a penchant for trying out your patience and defying you whenever he felt like doing it.
“Is he mine?”
His whispered voice dragged you back to the present moment. The smile, once again, died in your lips. You shifted your eyes and stared at him as the answer slipped past your mouth in an equal tone.
“No.”
You did not wait to watch his reaction before you headed to the house. You did not want to watch the judgment in his blue eyes before he even knew the truth. You left all that was taken to the picnic behind; the servants would take care of them as soon as possible.
Without casting a look over your shoulder to see if he was following you — he wasn’t —, you climbed the old wooden staircase with a weak resolve. Your heart was once again thundering in your chest and you were not so sure of the conversation that was to follow. The fact he expressed no loud reaction — always so composed and self-controlled — had you even more nervous.
Soon, his firm steps echoed behind you. He seemed taken by your dry answer, but he did not prevent you from walking away from him and actually dictating where your first words — after five years of estrangement — should take place.
You chose the study and headed to where the whisky was stored. If you were to have this conversation — you knew how mad he would be once he knew the truth — you would rather have some alcohol involved.
He closed the door behind himself, one eyebrow arched as you swallowed the brown liquid in one big gulp.
You opened your mouth.
Nothing came out.
“Is he mine?” he asked once again. His tone was calm, his eyes cold. They betrayed nothing of what he truly felt. If he did feel something. Sometimes, he looked more machine than man.
“No.”
It was your only answer.
Part of you wanted to tell nothing more. Part of you wanted — longed even — to toy with his feelings — did he feel anything at all? — and let him wait — five fucking years — for your answer. Part of you wanted to scream at him and ask why.
…Why no words…
…Why no missives…
…Why no visits…
And mostly, why only cold and sterile silence while you worried yourself to death over his life.
But part of you could not take it any longer.
You poured more whisky in your glass, but before you could bring it to your mouth, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him. The glass fell to the floor, but neither of you paid it any attention. The loud crash was nothing compared to the sound of the blood pumping in your ears and your heart racing madly against your ribcages.
“Who is the father?”
His voice was getting impatient now. It was losing all traces of aloofness as he stared at you in the eye; his bluish orbs still cold but narrowed, which indicated at least a bit of annoyance.
The hurt, abandoned and betrayed wife — friend, he was your friend to begin with! Or so you considered yourself as such before he left without notice. It was clear to you he never thought of you too highly; being ten years older than you made him look at you in a condescending manner, and the fact that the two of you were locked in an arranged marriage only made matters worse. Still, you always thought you were able to get through him and understand a little better the man behind the military façade — in you made you wet your lips and raise your chin in defiance.
“Why?” You finally found your voice. “Are you mad?” You narrowed your eyes. “Jealous, Lord Hux?”
His fingers tightened around your arms, but not to the point of hurting you. He was always very self-conscious of his strength and never used it against you. In fact, he was a man who preferred manipulation over brutal violence. If he could make his enemies cower to the sound of his voice, he would. It did not mean, however, he would back down from a fight.
Skillful with both sword and gun, he never retreated from a battle, no matter how lost it seemed to him.
He tightened his jaw and let go of you. Walking around the room, he stopped closer to the decanter, but he did not move to pour himself a drink. His arms were behind his back as he considered his options carefully — considered what to say. When the next words left his lips, you almost choked.
“Lux, you said…” He was back turned to you. He was emotionless and if you did not know him well, you would have said the matter did not affect him in the least. “If I am to raise a bastard, I ought to know whose bastard I am raising.”
You gasped.
Suddenly, the fact he was bothered by the entire situation did not matter at all. You approached him in small steps, your hands reaching out to him and retracting at the same time.
“He is not mine either,” you whispered. He did not look at you, but the fact he had tilted his head to the left a little indicated he had heard you. Even so, you spoke again, “I am not his mother.”
If the General seemed more at ease after your attempt at reassurance, he did not let it show. With his back still facing you, he served himself some whisky and brought the glass to his lips. A scoff left him as he looked at you over his shoulders.
“Brendol Hux would say it’s fitting…”
You furrowed your brows, not getting his meaning.
“It’s only natural that a bastard like myself would raise someone’s else bastard.”
You bit your bottom lip, now heavily regretting your silence. You should have said Lux was not yours when he first called you Mama. You should have reprehended him like you usually did.
This was a sore topic for your husband. You knew it. You knew it better than anyone, having been his friend before you were his wife. Nonetheless, your feelings clouded your judgment. If you were to be honest with yourself, you would admit that his pain would bring you some joy.
You were not usually like this. You had been taught compassion and kindness were the best solutions to almost every situation, but you were only human, and you had reached your limits.
“I already said I am not his mother.”
“Then, who is it?”
That was what you feared the most. It would be a greater blow to his pride to know you were currently not only hosting his rival’s son, but actually raising it, than the knowledge you had slept and had had a child with another man.
“Lord Dameron.” You looked at your feet. “As in Poe Dameron…”
There was silence for a moment.
If your blood was not pumping so fast in your ears, you would have heard him exhaling sharply; would have seen him squaring his shoulders and pursing his lips into a firm, thin line.
“That does not explain the red hair.”
Your head moved so fast your vision went black for a moment. You took a moment to adjust to the sight of the study room around you before you spoke, “Well… It comes from his mother.” You were sure of his next question, so you got ahead of him and continued, “She died in childbirth.”
“The boy believes you are his mother.”
“He doesn’t.” The reply was quick in your lips. You looked down as you saw his dusty shoes approaching you. He stopped in front of you as you explained further, “He knows I am not his mother, however, he loves me as if I were.”
His fingers in your chin made you hold your breath.
“And you love him back.”
You pursed your lips, preventing you from telling him something he would not very much like to hear. In the past, you would not have hold yourself, but you knew the man from the past. This man in front of you? You had no idea who he was. He was no better than a stranger.
Some months were sufficient to change people, five years were more than enough to change someone completely and turn friends into enemies.
Lovers into strangers.
“Should I not?” You stared at him right in the eye, not bothered in the least with the unreadable expression you saw in his bluish orbs.
He let go of your chin and stepped away. Not far to outstretch an arm, but distant enough give you an analytical look.
“The boy should be with his father.”
You scoffed at him. Who was he to decide anything concerning the boy’s life?
“His father visits whenever he can, which is more than I can say about you.”
As soon as these words left you, you placed both hands over your mouth, horrified with your own bluntness. Part of you expected him to strike you — and you were already prepared for a busted lip or something like that —, part of you was sure he would never lean a finger on you.
You reasoned the old Armitage Hux — your friend, your lover — would not harm you under any circumstances, but you also knew this was not the same man from the past. This was your husband and you did not know your husband.
Instead of a slap, he assaulted you with his silence.
You fisted your hands and took a deep breath. Opening your eyes, you saw him walking towards the door.
He was leaving.
He was leaving you without a word.
Again.
You could take anything but it.
“Five years…” you whispered, drawing his attention. “You could have visited.” You could have written, you thought. You chewed your bottom lip, controlling the urge to cry. Never in your life you felt to exposed and so hurt. “Fuck, Armitage!” You felt the first tear rolling down your face. “You could have said you were leaving!”
His answer was quick this time. And so detached that putting a knife in your heart would have hurt less.
“It would change nothing.”
You dried your tears and turned your back to him. Looking at the windows, looking outside, usually helped you calming your nerves. That and alcohol, but you were already dizzy and you were not about to get drunk because of him. He would not have this much control over you. You told yourself you were emotional not because he was back after five long, silent years, but because you were nearing your period and that made your control over yourself slippery.
“How come?”
From your place, you heard him placing the glass over some flat surface and stepping closer to you. It made you straighten your back. He invaded your personal space and you held your breath. When his hands ghosted over your shoulders and arms, you felt your heart stopping for a moment before it raced like wild horses. His fingers traced your fisted hands, loosening your own fingers and entwining them together.
“I would have to be gone anyways.” His voice was a mere whisper in your ear. His right hand moved from yours to your throat and then your chin, forcing you to stare at him.
“I know…” you whispered back, staring right into his blue eyes. They had always been gateways to his soul in the past, when you were both younger, but now… Now, you could see nothing. There was a saying that War changed people and seeing him now… You could not say you disagreed with it. “But it would have changed everything for me.”
It would make you worry less, you could have added. And it would make you feel less dejected… Less abandoned. It would stop you from wondering if it were you who drove him away or if it were something none of you could have done something about.
“You have always hated farewells.” His voice was even lower as he buried his nose in your hair. You sucked in a breath and leaned against him involuntarily. The tip of his nose moved from your locks to behind your ear and finally your neck. He planted a small kiss there.
Your nostrils flared. You inhaled the air, inhaled him. Even if he had changed drastically, appearance and behavior, he still smelled the same.
“I have missed you, (Y/N).”
His lips pressed against a small part of your shoulders that was not covered. His tongue slithered past his mouth and tasted your skin.
A shiver ran down your spine.
You fought not to close your eyes and give in.
Five years was a long time to forget — to forgive — in five minutes and with some kisses. A flirty behavior and some whispered, sweet nothings in your ears would not change how hurt you felt for half a decade.
“I hate to be left in the dark even more,” you finally found your voice. Your shaky legs forced you away from him as you walked further closer to the windows. He took a step towards you and you flinched. “Stay away from me.”
If he was displeased with your behavior, he did not show it. He seemed more like resigned. He took a few steps back and suddenly, you heard the door cracking open. It was not needed to look at him to know he was leaving you alone.
You fought the need to tell him he was not dismissed, as you could have done considering your social position above him. Granted, he was your husband and even though he held no nobiliary title, society deemed him above you and besides your rightful owner.
Gritting your teeth at that, you remained with your head held high, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you in such state of distress. When you did not hear the door closing, you looked at him over your shoulder. He wetted his lips and when your eyes clashed together, he finally spoke; the venomous words making you hate the day you had first met him.
“When you are done feeling sorry for yourself and behaving like a spoiled child, we can have this conversation.”
“Sleep tight, Lux.” You kissed his brow and adjusted the blankets over his chest. It was crystal clear he was quite sleepy, but he fought it with every fiber of his being and kept his chestnut eyes wide open. “I will see you tomorrow.”
He yawned and involuntarily his lids fluttered closed.
You tapped his little nose before leaving the room. You felt your heart race when you met with the straight face of Rae Sloane. She had a knowing aura all around her and you could not help but gulp.
“I am giving you no details,” you lost no time to say. Keeping your hands at your back, you walked towards the stairs, towards the dining room and ultimately, towards your husband.
She raised her eyebrows but said nothing. It was clear she already knew everything from your refusal to share a single information. You huffed in despair. Sometimes you hated this woman to guts. Her quick-witted mind and analytical abilities usually — always — left you entirely at her mercy.
“Are you having dinner with us?” you asked, looking at her out of the corner of your eyes.
“Do you want me to?” she answered with another question. Her straight face gave away nothing, but you have lived for long five years with her to know when she was having fun at someone’s expenses. At your expenses.
“I’ve never known you to ask rhetorical questions, Rae.”
She shrugged, her hands placed behind her back. She behaved just like Hux, which annoyed you to no end. Or he did behave like her, considering she was the one to raise him and teach everything he knew…
You opened your mouth, but she bet you to your game and shook her head. In fact, you would have said she glared at you, her dark eyes hiding nothing of her disapproval.
“Why not?”
She raised her brows as if it was difficult for her to believe you.
“You are his wife; your marital problems are none of my business, my Lady.”
“But…” You closed your mouth. She had to help you. “You know him better than anyone.” You stopped on your way to the dining room and held her hands between yours. She was not a woman who enjoyed physical contact that much, but she learned over the years not to push you away. “Rae, you raised him! If there is someone who knows him—
She patted your hands between hers reassuringly. She never did that, and when she did, it meant that the content of her words would not be what you wanted to hear at all.
“Time changes people, (Y/N)… Being in a War zone for five years changes them forever.”
You swallowed.
She was right. You knew that. She knew what she talked about. This War… she had seen it close by. She had been engaged in it. For as much as Wars were forbidden territory for women, there was always a Rae Sloane out there who defied everyone and everything to act by her beliefs.
“He could have come back...” You whispered, barely acknowledging defeat. “Lord Dameron comes back from time to time.”
She snorted.
“Can you even hear yourself?” Her tone was edgy; she had no qualms putting you in your place. “Lord Dameron is not a General. There were not thousands of lives hanging on his shoulders, even if that cocky brat would like to believe otherwise.”
This time, along with saliva, you had to swallow your pride.
“Now, let’s eat.” She gave you her back and started making her way towards the dining room. “If I have to endure your whiny and his sulky company, I would like to do that with warm food and good wine.”
Dinner time was ridiculously silent. The two of you stared at your own plates and Rae took her time analyzing you both. It was clear to you she was taking her sweet time and getting every bit of information she could about you and your relationship.
What was not clear as of yet was if she would play on your team or his… Given their proximity, you would say she would stand by him, but… She had lived with you for five years and you would like to believe the two of you formed a bond during this time.
However, Rae Sloane was a clever woman and she never did anything without considering all variables. If she was to team up with him, she would have good reasons to do so. It does not mean you would take it lightly. A betrayal was a betrayal after all.
You chewed your bottom lip and stared at her. She was thoroughly focused on your husband and when you looked at him, you noticed he was staring at you. His impossibly blue eyes completely on you.
A shiver ran down your spine.
In the past, you would have died for his attention — whatever bits of it he decided to give you; you would even beg for it and put yourself in all kinds of situations just to be the sun in his life — but now… It did not make you feel any comfortable.
Not for the first time, you had to agree with Rae. Five years, indeed, changed people. The man to your left, regarding you with some sort of… curiosity and renewed interest that you could not quite decipher was not the man you knew; the friend you worshiped.
As time went by — and after the third glass of wine — you were openly staring back at him and the fact that Rae could side with him did not bother you that much anymore. You were barely aware of the fact she was watching you both.
He was… different.
Very different.
There was no other way to put it. Before — before he left for the War —, he had a thick ginger beard and shoulder length-hair you loved to run your fingers through. You still recalled how it was to kiss him, when the two of you were merely engaged and hiding from your strict father, and entangle your fingers in his locks and later how he would brush his lips — and his beard — along your neck and shoulders. Always a sucker for the rules, he never went beyond kisses and a few bolder caresses that never put you in a compromising situation.
There was no beard now and no long hair for you to entangle your fingers in. His pristine appearance made him look even more distant and unreachable. Cold.
However, what stood out the most were his eyes. His bluish eyes were so icy now. Calculative. There was no warmth left in them — now, that was not a word that you would usually associate to him, but even if a rare occasion, you had seen him looking at Rae Sloane with some affection in the past —, no fondness whatsoever.
Yet, that did not make him less attractive. He exuded power from his very pores. His movements were not missed by you, as you analyzed every inch of him. It was with some surprise that you realized that you were staring at his long fingers around his wine goblet and actually imagining how it would feel to have them running over your skin in a sensuous caress.
You shivered…
…and busied yourself with your own goblet. You drank every last drop of your wine and gesticulated for the footman to serve you with some more. You almost chocked when you noticed that you were alone with your husband.
Rae was long gone, and you did not see her leaving. The servants were also out of sight.
In silence, he rose to his feet and outstretched his hand to you. With your brows furrowed, you were not sure if you should accept his gesture or not. His words still stung; part of you was not ready to forgive him for that either.
However, a small, rational part of you, knew that if the two of you were to reach an understanding you would have to let go of your grudges and listen to him — at least try to.
If those five years were hard for you, you could only imagine what it was for him.
“I am sorry…” You bit your bottom lip. “I am sorry for my reaction earlier. My behavior was… inexcusable.”
He did not say anything, not to agree nor to disagree with you. You thought that it was to be expected. He was never a man fond of small talk, you reasoned that he would not start taking a liking to it now.
With a defeated sigh, you placed your hand on his and let him pull you to your feet. This time, when his face came closer and his nose touched yours, you did nothing to stop him.
“All these years…” he started, his voice low; his breath caressing your face. He brought his left hand to your chin and held you in place, forcing you to stare at him. His eyes were still distant… still unreadable. “There was never a day that I haven’t thought of you.”
Your heart raced at his words — that was closer as you would get to an apology for not having contacted you —; you felt conflicted. Part of you wanted to pull away, the other half wanted to pull him closer. His eyes were focused on your lips, and you found yourself closing your lids and acting by instinct.
Not very sure where to put your hands, you grabbed the lapels of his navy-blue tailcoat and pulled him down. He was taller than you and you had to stand on your toes to reach his full lips.
A moan left you as your lips met. A small caress. A mere brush. But after five years away from his touch, you were starved, and the very feel of him against you was enough set you on edge. His hands were stationed at your waist, pressing you against him, leaving no space between your bodies. His tongue caressed your bottom lip, seeking entrance, which you gladly conceded.
From there, you were not sure who dominated the kiss — if you or him, it did not matter, it was pleasurable both ways. He probably did, for he was a sucker for control. Your fingers brushed against his chin, before they entangled on his short, pristine hair. You almost chuckled in his mouth when he grabbed both of your wrists with one of his hands and moved them away from him.
He parted from you, his eyes intensely focused on your face. This time, you did not look away as expected from you, but you were about to bit your bottom lip when you felt his thumb caressing it earnestly. His right hand moved from your waist upwards, forcing you to suck in a breath. Your tongue brushed against his finger and his eyes darkened a bit.
“I have thought of you as well…” you admitted, your breath coming out in short gasps, “every single day… every waking hour. I was worried sick when you never came back.” He stopped caressing your bottom lip and tried to step away. You held him by his wrist. “Why haven’t you come back, Armitage?”
Instead of giving you a straight answer, he crashed his lips against yours in an overpowering kiss. He backed you against the dining table and smothered any thought of complaints. You kissed him back, surprised at how much intensity he could print into such gesture. With a gasp of surprise, you broke away from him when you felt his fingers tracing the line of your shoulders. His mouth quickly assaulted your exposed skin, covering the same ground his fingers just had covered a little bit earlier.
“I want you,” he whispered before bestowing your earlobe with a kiss. His voice was husky. Needy. It sent a jolt to your core. “I want you now.”
“Here?” you whispered back, fighting the wave of arousal that washed over you. It made you shudder. You bit your bottom lip and tried to think rationally. “Someone can see us.”
He paid you no attention as he sent all the tableware to the floor and forced you to sit over the wooden table. With his fingers entangled in your hair, he quickly removed the pearly clips your lady’s maid had put there before, letting your locks fall on your shoulders and back. You expected him to assault your mouth once again, but instead he buried his nose in your hair.
“Yes, here.” His voice was still husky; his hands and yours — you quickly noticed — worked on his tailcoat, removing it. The pearly cravat and the waistcoat trailed their way to the floor as well. “I want you now, here… And I don’t give a damn if anyone sees us.”
His admission and the passion that emanated from him were enough to make you pull him down by his hair and force him into a kiss. You ran your fingers through his still clothed chest, working on the buttons on the way.
He shuddered under your touch.
Your mouth was busy with his when you realized his hand was inside your evening dress, smoothing the fabric of your chemise and hiking it to your thighs. His lips trailed your neck again and moved down, towards your exposed clavicle and the contour of your breasts.
Dammit.
You drew in a sharp breath.
This was going all too fast.
You could feel him everywhere. His smooth face — devoid of the beard you loved so much — against your chest as his tongue traced your nipples through the fabrics of your chemise and evening dress; his left hand on your waist holding you in place and the right inside your clothes, reaching to your most private area.
A long and delighted moan left your lips when his mouth enclosed around your hard nipple and his finger touched your neglected — starved for his attention, and for so many years, really — clit and rubbed it through the undergarments slowly, as if showing how he would make love to you.
His touches were very… precise and thought-out. Even if he was passionate — more than you could remember —, intense, there was a part missing. His soul, his heart, was not in it.
And no matter how much needy you felt — famished and denied of his utter devotion and worship —, you were not blind not to see he was not totally into the act. Not the part of him you wanted — needed — the most.
This was all too much.
“S-Stop,” you muttered between short gasps. “I-I c… I can’t.”
He removed his mouth from your breasts and moved it closer to your own; his fingers, however, did not stop in their ministration, at least not until he had you withering under his touch.
You closed your eyes.
And your brain barely registered he had managed to somehow remove your undergarments and had inserted two of his fingers inside you, reaching as far as possible; his thumb sweetly pressed against your clit.
Your hands were on his arms, the nails digging deeply into his skin as he brought you to an earth-shattering orgasm. This time, he disobeyed your order and took your lips in an overwhelming kiss, smothering your moans.
He never stopped his caresses, not until you rode your orgasm fully. His tongue inside your mouth dominated you, indicating that besides making love slowly to you, he would take you fast and hard as well… It made you clench a bit more around his fingers, the wetness making it easier for him to keep scissoring you.
As soon as you came down from your high, you opened your eyes and stared at him, your bottom lip swollen and castigated. He removed his fingers from you and brought them to his lips, licking the traces of your orgasm clean.
“I was not ready for it,” you started out of breath.
Well, that was debatable.
You shook your head. Your body was more than ready for it — would it ever deny you any of the countless pleasures he could offer you? —, but your heart was not.
Not while you did not know if he was totally into it. And not only body. You needed body, mind, soul.
“You needed it,” he replied, tracing your bottom lip slowly. You could almost taste yourself. “Don’t deny me…” he whispered, brushing his lips against yours. “Don’t deny yourself, (Y/N).”
The way he spoke your name had you shuddering.
Somehow, you managed to find some strength in yourself and pushed him by his shoulders.
“No.”
He furrowed his brows.
“No.” Your voice was firm this time. “Not until I know why you never came back. It’s…” You bit your bottom lip, you wanted to cry. You always became a bit oversensitive after an orgasm and he knew it. “It’s killing me!”
He narrowed his eyes at you and moved away.
Long gone was the passionate man whose blue eyes promised to worship your body throughout the night; the man whose whispers admitted so openly to need you.
His back was facing you.
He had squared his shoulders.
But his silence remained.
No word left his lips. No words would.
“I was worried sick you had died… For months I…” You bit your bottom lip, you were about to cry and it ashamed you that you were about to admit how you were devastated that he had left without notice, but you had to make him understand how miserable your life had been all these years. He had to know! “For months I cried without knowing. Were you alive? Were you dead? Were you badly injured?”
You climbed down the table and smoothed the skirts of your dress.
“And then I started receiving offers for a second marriage. My father was gone— Your throat closed at the unwanted memory. Your eyes were glued to the floor, if you looked up you would have seen the somber look in his own blue orbs. “And I was the sole heir to his title and his lands… Every dandy said the love of my life was gone and I should secure my position through a new and beneficial marriage.”
He had no words when you were done.
“Did you hear me?”
He remained silent.
“Did you hear me, Armitage?”
He looked at you over his shoulders. His lips were drawn into a tight line.
“Love… such a meaningless word.”
Your eyes widened at his choice of vocabulary. Your heart stopped for a moment and your throat constricted.
“Do you love me?” he asked, and you noticed all too late he was invading your personal space. He touched your chin and tilted your head slightly back, forcing you to look at him.
You bit your bottom lip.
Before you could answer, he continued. His words low and sharp enough to crush your heart completely.
“Marriage is not about love, (Y/N). You should know that by now.”
A/N - I’ll update part 2 - To outsmart a General as soon as possible. If you never read this story and want to read all chapters posted so far there aren’t many xD, just go to my AO3 and you’ll find the rest of this story there. And if you want to be tagged, just let me know xD
In the General’s Bed - Regency!Hux x Reader - Ch. 5 - To misjudge a General
A/N - Hello, darlings! Here I am to update ITGB. I almost didn’t have enough time to come here and update this chapter. Anyways, I don’t really have much time now, so I’ll keep things short... I hope you like it and for the new readers, thank you for leaving notes :) I hope you like this chapter.
Story Summary: The General is cornered… Upon returning from a successful campaign in Battle of Waterloo, Armitage Hux knows he has no excuses left; he must produce the much-needed heir. The problem is, when the two of you parted five years ago, it was not in the best of terms. Now, he may not find his wife, you, so willing as he first expected, nor keen on taking part in any of his political games. [Hux x Reader – Hux x You – Regency AU].
Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.
Subconsciously, your hands patted the side of the bed looking for Armitage. Empty. He was nowhere to be found.
With a disappointed sigh, you ran your hands through your tangled hair, all the while doing your best not to cry — from frustration or anger or whatever.
The ‘I’m giving you no heir whatsoever’ rule had gone to hell last night, as you could be very pregnant as of now.
A groan of utter despair left you.
A click on the door made you shift on the bed and adjust the blankets over your naked frame. You looked up to see Rae stretching the curtains open. She wore a serious expression — not that you had seen any other, but you thought she was even more I’m-all-business than usual.
“I am assuming you told him.”
You rolled your eyes and pulled the pillow to your face. You usually loved bright mornings, but specifically today you hated it; all you wanted was for the world to end in rain, so you could sleep to the next week till you forgot your miserable existence.
Why did you have to be so foolish? How could you just give in?
Instead, you tried to humor yourself by provoking Rae Sloane, “Oh, good morning to you too, milady.”
As expected, there was no answer on her part. Only silence. It forced you to remove the pillow from your face and sit on the mattress, clutching the blankets to your chin. She sat on the ottoman, not very keen on getting near the place where you and Hux had… well… had sex… made love? You did not know what to make out of it — it is the situation between you and your husband and not Rae’s antics.
If the circumstances were any different you would have laughed at her face and said you had used the ottoman, but aside the fact you would be telling a lie, you could not think of joking right now.
“I feel stupid,” you finally said, looking at her face. If you expected to find comfort there, you would have to look somewhere else. Her expression denounced nothing — not judgment, nor understanding.
“For doing what’s expected of you?” she retorted, not unkindly. If coming from anyone else, those words would have felt like a slap, but you understood what Rae meant. She only said what society expected of women like you.
For loving him, you could have said, but Rae, just like Hux, had no time to talk about love. You doubted she even believed in it.
“Is that why you never got married?”
She nodded.
You opened your mouth to say something, but she beat you to it, “You would. You didn’t want anything else.”
It was your time to nod. You felt the telltales of tears in your eyes. You rubbed your nose and swallowed hard.
“I wanted him to love me…” you commented quietly after a while.
You expected her to be keep her opinion to herself, as usual, but her answer came quick and this time her words were meant to hurt, “Get a grip of yourself, (Y/N). Love is not everything in a marriage.”
You could almost hear Hux’s words.
Marriage is not about love, you should know that by now.
“I married him because I love him.”
Rae snorted.
The sound was so much alike Hux it made you want to throw up.
“You married him because your father needed money and he married you because he needed a title. Feelings had nothing to do with it.”
You swallowed…
…and bit your bottom lip to prevent the need to cry. Her words stung — more than they should have, more than should be right.
Because… honestly, you knew they rang true.
Everything Rae Sloane ever said — to you, to anyone — was truthful. Even if they hurt — she knew how to hurt you, how to hurt people —, she never told a lie. It was against her code — whatever that was.
“And stop with these childish rules of yours and give him a damned heir.”
You even thought about opening your mouth to protest, but her serious eyes kept you silent. You bit your bottom lip.
“I know you want to be the wife of a Prime Minister. Adopting Lux won’t be enough to convince the King or the Ton of your aptitude as a couple to take such position.”
She rose from the ottoman and opened the door for the drawing room. From the bed, you could see a bathtub in the center of the room and your lady’s maid throwing some perfumed lotions in it.
“Now get up,” she said, her lips pursed into a harsh line. “We shall take Lux to Hyde Park and I need your help with a few decisions concerning the brewery in Ireland.”
You wanted to say she could go to hell together with that brewery of Hux, but you bit your tongue. She said that with the best of intentions in mind. Although she knew she hurt you — she wanted to hurt you —, she had only your best interests at heart.
“Fine.” You clutched the blankets to your frame as you strolled out of the bedroom. “But for the record, whatever decision we make together, I don’t want Hux to know.”
The sides of her lips tilted into a small, barely noticeable smile. You caught yourself mimicking her even before her answer came to fruition in her mouth, “He won’t even dream of it, milady.”
“Mama!”
You shrugged from your thoughts and looked at him. He had his doe, chestnut eyes totally focused on you, his ginger brows arched in confusion. You had been playing quoits for the past half-hour — Lux did not leave any room for you and Rae to have a decent conversation, which frustrated you —, but you have spaced out more than once.
“I’m sorry, Little Lord, I got carried out,” you replied, patting his hair lovingly. He giggled a bit, before putting on a serious façade. He held your hands between his, much smaller and chubby ones, getting you away from his head, “Oh, right!” You smiled. “You’re a grown up and grown-ups don’t have their hair messed up by another grown-up.”
He nodded, very much focused on your fingers. You tilted your head a little, recalling how he used to hold onto them for dear life when he was but a few days old. It was still weird to think four years had gone by since you first held him in your arms and lulled him to sleep.
“And neither they call someone their mama.” Rae stated, her dark eyes thoroughly focused on you. Her hawk-like attention made you shiver and drop Lux’s hands immediately.
“They… don’t?” he asked in confusion. His brows shot up, his eyes were very much widened. He knew that depending on Rae’s answer, he would have to let go of his first — and favorite — word in the world. “Why not?”
“Because it not part of an adult’s vocabulary.” Another voice — different and so foreign —, with a melodious and almost sugary accent, made the three of you look up. A few meters from you, casting a shadow over the glorious, warm sun, stood the figure of someone you did not expect to see anytime soon.
Before you could help yourself, your hand shot to your womb.
Your action did not go unnoticed by neither Rae, nor Hux. He narrowed his eyes at you; his face growing somber at your gesture. The first, however, was the one to clear her throat, dragging your attention to the matter at hand. Your hand fell to your sides immediately.
“Lady Sindian,” you greeted in a low voice. You bowed your head, but did not give her the curtesy of a proper bow.
She pursed her lips into a thin line. It was crystal clear she simply hated when someone did not follow the proper etiquette, even if this someone was above her social status. As a Marquise, you held more power in your hands than she did with her Countess title.
You could almost say she was seething inside, dying to correct you in your antics. Hux’s eyes were still on you, intense and unreadable.
“Marchioness, what a pleasure meeting you after such lengthy retirement.” She performed an almost dramatic bow. “I hope you found the countryside to your liking.”
You exhaled long and deeply. She was playing a dangerous game and you did not know how long you would be able to control yourself, before you gave the answer she so deserved. You cast an accusatory glance at Hux, not at all surprised to find his face blank and expressionless.
He offered his hand for you to take, helping you to your feet. His hand stationed at the small of your back was no more than a warning for you to think through your next words.
You almost snorted.
He still cared about her opinion.
The need to put Lady Carise Sindian back in her place grew stronger. You swallowed. You really did not care about his past lovers — you knew that contrary to you, he had had others before your marriage —, but this woman could be as hateful as your own father. If not worse.
Perhaps she was hateful because your father was hateful to her in the first place, but at the moment, all rationality had left you.
The sound of Lux clicking his tongue in a childish manner to distract himself of your tiring and boring grown-up interaction made the three of you look at him. Your eyes grew softer at the sight of him making noises with his mouth.
“Lady Sindian, I want you to know Lux Dameron,” you said, placing both hands on his small shoulders. He stopped making those noises altogether and cast an adoringly glance at you. “Lux, this is Lady Carise Sindian.”
He looked at you, and then at Rae. At her nod, he bowed dutifully — an imitation of a perfect, even if diminutive, Lord. Still shy and conscious of his missing front tooth, he did not say anything. Rae offered her hand to him and he accepted it readily.
“He’s…” She looked at you and then her attention shifted to Hux; her eyes took her time analyzing his face, “got a very remarkable red hair.”
You even opened your mouth to reply, but his hand running soothingly over your arm shut you for once. He took the opportunity to entwine your fingers with his, squeezing them lightly. It made you freeze in place, but conscious of her rapt attention, you did not move away.
Lady Carise narrowed her eyes at the gesture. A small smile lifted the corner of her lips. She knew you were nervous, so you tried to relax in his arms, aware of her curious and so very cunning eyes on you.
“I admire your attitude,” she started, wetting her lips. “It’s a very touching and beautiful gesture.”
You swallowed, not very keen on giving her any reply, but as Hux squeezed your fingers harder, you forced yourself to speak, “Thank you, Countess.”
She made a perfect curtsy, even though her astute eyes remained focused on your husband. You pursed your lips into a thin line.
“I assume I will be seeing the two of you in two days’ time.”
When she was far away, you yanked your arm from his grasp and turned to face him; your lavender dress floated around you.
“You should have let me give her the answer she deserved.”
He moved his hand to remove a strand of hair from your face, but you took a step back, broadening the distance between you. His arms fell to his sides.
“I would rather not give her any reasons to keep pestering you or Lux.”
“Or Rae,” you replied. “She acted as if Rae didn’t even exist. Just because she doesn’t have a nobiliary title, it doesn’t mean she’s a servant. Or a slave. She treated Rae as if she were a slave, Armitage!”
Actually, she was a servant. She has always been and you knew that. However, you considered her family and you wanted her to be treated as such. Not a lowly servant who became instantly invisible in the company of people such as Lady Carise or even the — ugh, how you hated him — disgusting Agent Terex.
“Rae can take care of herself,” Hux replied quietly.
It irked you.
His apparent concern for your well-being.
You did not need that.
You did not want that.
“I can take care of myself very well, thank you.” You turned on your heels to follow Rae and Lux to the carriage, only to find them already gone. You grimaced. Rae Sloane would pay for that. “That’s what I have been doing for the last five years.”
It was barely an hour after you returned from the park when you found yourself in front of his study room. You raised your hand to knock at the double doors, but held yourself.
You were still angry with him.
You did not want to see his face.
You did not want to be in his presence.
You did not want to talk to him.
However, he had politely asked for your presence.
Not demanded.
But asked.
He knew that otherwise you would just ignore him and mind your own business — which, at the time, involved picking a dress for the upcoming Ball at Lady Sindian’s manor in couple of days. You had no intention of accepting her invitation, but Lady Organa’s small note had you changing your mind and besides, after today’s event, you knew that hiding from her would do your image — Hux’s image — no good.
Breathing through your nose, you knocked on the wooden doors. His voice came shortly after, welcoming you with a firm, even if low, Enter.
You placed your hand on the doorknob and slowly poked your head in. Focused on a series of reports, he did not raise his eyes to face you. And even after you closed the door quietly after yourself and stopped in front of his desk, he merely ordered you to take your seat.
After a few seconds passed in silence, you cleared your throat, “Listen, can we make this quick?” You breathed deeply. You could distinguish the smell of tobacco in the air. “I have somewhere else to be.”
You even turned around, but before you could go far, his voice was finally heard, “I never allowed you to leave.” You looked back at him, your eyes narrowed. “Now, sit.”
“I said I have somewhere else to be,” you replied, doing your best not to snap at him.
“I already asked Rae to take Lux to the eatery in Mayfair.”
You raised your chin, keen on saying that was not where you had to be, but decided against it. It would be a waste of precious time. He already knew the truth. And if he sent Rae away with Lux, it was because he had an important matter to discuss with you.
“Now sit.”
Begrudgingly, you did as he said, taking your seat in front of him. He had a bottle of brandy in his desk, which he opened and poured some into a glass for him. You waited for him to fill a second glass, which did not happen.
You arched a brow...
…and reached for the glass yourself. He held your wrist between his hands a bit more forcefully than usual, making you gasp.
His impossibly blue eyes were narrowed.
“We won’t know until a few weeks later…” you commented quietly, gazing into his orbs. He let go of your wrist and you quickly recoiled it, cradling it with your other hand, your fingers rubbing soothing circles over your pulse.
“We shouldn’t take any risks,” he replied. His voice not giving away any indication of excitement nor hope. It seemed like any other chore he had to perform.
It made you bit your bottom lip to suppress the need to cry in frustration. It had been a while since you last felt this humiliated. You wondered if this day could go any worse.
And as much as Rae Sloane’s words rang true — they always did —, you could not help but regret last night.
…give him a damned heir…
You rose to your feet.
Easier said than done.
If after your first night together you hoped for a child to be growing up in your womb, this time you hoped for his seed to be as weak as your legs right now. You did not want for it to take root in your body.
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice genuinely curious.
You did not look at him as you headed to the exit. You even touched the doorknob, but before you could leave, he was behind you, both hands firmly placed on the wood, caging you between the door and his arms.
It took him a while to say any words, which only made your heart sped at the proximity of your bodies. He lowered his head to yours, his warm breath against your ear as he twirled a strand of your hair in his index finger.
“What is wrong with you?”
Aware you could not break free from his grasp — even if your bodies were quite not touching —, you shifted, facing him. You placed both hands on his chest, to keep him at bay, but that only served to remind you how you sank your short, polished nails in that very same spot last night.
As if burned, you let your hands fall to your sides.
“There is nothing wrong with me,” you finally said, your whispered tone made him inch a bit closer to hear you better. “I am just not in the mood for any games today.”
He arched a ginger eyebrow at your words.
You did not know if he was genuinely confused or…
…if he was playing you.
“I thought that after last night, you would be more pliant to a conversation—
You did not let him finish his sentence, hitting him square in the face. It tilted to the side abruptly. Your eyes widened as he shifted his attention back to you; a fillet of blood tinted his lip. You looked back at your left hand, finding the same crimson color smeared over your wedding band.
“Because of course I would be pliant after I woke up alone in the bed for the second time after you have your way with me!”
His nostrils flared visibly, but he did not express in words how offended he was at your words or your slap. A perfect gentleman, he stepped away from you and returned to his desk. He placed both hands over the wooden surface, his back facing you.
“I trust you had a good morning with Lady Sindian. Thanks to you, mine was unforgettable.”
He did not give you an answer.
Of course he did not.
So you pressed him, keen on yanking at least a loud reaction from him. A sharp intake of breath and nostrils flaring would simply not do. You wanted to make him feel guilty, to make him understand your disappointment and anger. Pain. He had to know what he did to you with his dismissive posture yet again.
“…Perhaps reviving the glorious days of your past with her.”
He squared his shoulders…
…and that was all.
You wanted to take off your shoes and throw it at his head. Perhaps after a concussion he would consider you worthy of his attention.
Instead, you just watched as he lit his cigar and brought it to his lips, inhaling the smoke sharply.
“Your jealousy is flattering, however misplaced.” He exhaled the smoke this time, creating circles in the air. “Now, leave.” His toneless voice was more than enough to make you legs go weak and the tears prick the corner of your eyes.
You wanted him to feel guilty, but all you accomplished was to stroke his ego.
Before he could see you cry — because of him, because you hated him, hated to feel anything for him —, you left the study, closing the door forcefully behind yourself. You had barely taken two steps away in the corridor when you heard a loud noise. It was not needed to be a genius to know he had thrown everything from his desk in anger.
With tears in your eyes, you felt your lips curving into a small, but victorious smile.
At least you managed to yank some fucking reaction from him.
You woke up a good couple of hours later. After that ridiculous fight — which you lost, you were perfectly aware of that —, you felt spent. Exhausted, really.
Heading back to your room, you did not even remove your clothes before you fell on the mattress. You missed lunch and given the darkness of your chambers you realized you missed supper as well.
And even if you felt famished, you were glad you were not there to see his hateful face or endure Rae’s analytical dark eyes over the two of you.
There was a light knock on your door and the whispered voices of Lux and his tutoress made you straighten your dress and your messed hair.
“Come in.” Your voice was still heavy with sleep as you walked towards the anteroom. Behind the preceptress, Rae Sloane stared at you with raised eyebrows. She held a folder closer to her chest, making you wonder if she had some Aesop fables stored there to read for you out loud.
You swallowed, but decided not to give her much attention. You kneeled in front of Lux and adjusted his pajamas.
“I brought him to say goodnight, Your Ladyship,” the tutoress said. “He was worried about you.”
“Aww, were you, Little Lord?” You tapped his small nose, making him giggle. He put both arms around your neck and gave you a tight — or as tight as possible for his diminutive and chubby frame — hug.
You embraced him back, holding him flush against your frame. You kissed his temples lovingly. The moment between you did not last, however, for Rae cleared her throat, dragging your attention to her.
“Your soup will get cold,” she said, motioning for the preceptress to take Lux away. Your lady’s maid entered the anteroom fully, placing the tray with your soup over the coffee table. The young girl excused herself shortly after.
“I am not hungry.” You tightened your hold around him. What you last wanted right now was another sort of lecture from her.
Sensing the heavy atmosphere, he broke away from you and placed a toffee in your hand. You furrowed your brows, unable to understand his action.
“It’s for Lord Hux.” He leaned into you and whispered in your ear — even if it sounded too loud for everyone to hear — “He is in a bad mood.”
You smiled in spite of yourself.
Bestowing a brief kiss upon his cheeks — which he wiped with his chubby hand —, you prompted him towards his tutoress. He took her hand, and together they left the anteroom.
Rae Sloane closed the door behind herself. You gulped as her words reached your ears.
“We have to talk.”
It was with some sort of surprise that you found yourself sitting on the bed with Rae behind you, her hands working swiftly in your hair. You even thought about telling her to stay away from you, but decided against it.
She had yet to say anything, and the way her fingers combed your strands into a loose braid made you sleepy all over again. You had just eaten, and the hot soup made you more compliant to get some more rest.
You even dozed off a few times, but a firm tug in your hair made you yelp in pain.
“What was that for?” You turned to face her, snapping her hands away from you.
She glared at you, her face hiding nothing of her discontentment. “I asked you a question.”
“You could have asked nicely again,” you replied. “And if you are going to tell me I was childish earlier, I know that. You don’t have to lecture me nor defend your precious Armitage.”
It was clear she would have rolled her eyes if she were any other woman. If that was not an act bellow her.
“I don’t have time to defend that moron,” she replied, her hands falling to her lap. “But my heart is swelled with pride that you know you were stupid and childish.”
Your mouth opened in a big O.
You did not know if you should feel flattered that she agreed with you — more than a moron, Hux was a jerk and you hated him — or offended that she thought you stupid and childish.
Closing you lips into a thin line, you took the hairclip from the mattress and put it in your tresses yourself.
“And what do you want?” you asked after a few seconds in silence.
“To talk about the brewery.”
You furrowed your brows.
And the next words to leave her lips left you completely flabbergasted, “I need your help.”
What?
“And how could I help you?” You reached for her forehead. She was surely sick. She snapped your hands away harshly. You let out a breathy ouch at her action. “I thought Armitage had Lord Mitaka to oversee his business personally in Ireland.”
You hesitantly accepted the folder she offered. Opening the files, you were startled to see the numbers. In the last two years, the brewery showed a decline in almost every important aspect of production. The sales were compromised and even the production was below average for this time of the year.
“That’s…” You wetted your lips. “Worse than I expected.” You took a few minutes analyzing the reports she had in her possession, humming here and there as you came across a decline in numbers. The percentage of dismissed employees was astounding, even for a business as large as that. “I was led to believe the brewery was the second most important in the Kingdom.”
“It was,” she replied quietly. “But it was mismanaged the time he spent away in the War.”
You pursed your lips.
Well, he would know if he ever came back, you felt like saying. Instead, you asked, “And what does he intend to do with this scenery?”
Her answer came quicker than you expected, “I am showing you this, so you could ask him.”
You threw your head back and laughed.
“He won’t listen to a word I have to say. You know that.”
This time, Rae Sloane rolled her eyes. She really rolled her eyes. You stared at her agape, letting go of the reports easily as she snatched them away from you.
“You underestimate your importance in his life.”
“You underestimate your importance in his life… As if!” You repeated her words mockingly. Not even her narrowed eyes made you stop. “He doesn’t care about me, Rae! If he cared, he would not have left me this morning to confabulate and gods-know-what with that… Old rag.”
She breathed deeply through her nose. It was clear she lost her patience with you centuries ago.
“That old rag is my age, (Y/N).”
Oops.
You even opened your mouth to apologize. To say she was different, classy and very much young for her age, but you knew that one could not buy Rae Sloane with sweet, fake words. You clamped your mouth shut.
Crap.
“Your jealousy will lead you nowhere.”
“I am not jealous!” You snorted. “Why does everyone think I am jealous?”
“Because you are,” she replied, pinching the bridge of her nose. She looked at you and with a calmer tone, she added, “listen, he was with her this morning because he needed a loan.”
You gasped.
“You are too quick to judge him.”
You bit the inside of your cheeks.
“I am—
“I am not done yet.” Her icy tone made you swallow. You nodded, giving her permission to continue — as if she needed it, “You’re insufferable. You say you want him to love you, but do you love him, (Y/N)?”
You opened your mouth, ready to come up with a reply, but she raised her finger, silencing you immediately.
“I don’t think you do.”
Not knowing what to say, you pursed your lips into a thin line. You did not want to hear her words. She simply did not understand. It was not like she could understand — she did not even believe in love, for God’s sake!
Rae rose to her feet, folder under one arm, and walked towards the doors; gray dress swinging behind herself. Before she could leave, however, she looked at you over her shoulders, “You believe you love him, but you don’t.” She placed her hand on the doorknob. “What you love is this romanticized and distorted image of Armitage you created when you were a child.”
And just like that, she left.
You stared at the closed double doors agape. Not knowing what to do with her sudden — and unusual — outburst.
Falling back on the bed, you brought the pillow to your face and hit the mattress several times with your legs. How you wished for a torrential rainy day since morning, you would not even leave the comfort of your room in the first place.
Could this day get any worse?
You had no idea what time it was when you woke up startled.
Once more you reached for the bed, only to find it empty. It filled you with… both relief and disappointment. It was paradoxical, you knew, but you wanted him away and closer at the same time.
Rae’s words would not leave your mind.
Plaguing you with their rawness. She was rude. She meant to be. But she did not want to hurt you unnecessarily. She never did anything without some purpose — even if you could not comprehend where she was headed to with that crudity of hers.
You loved Hux.
Of course you did.
You worshiped the very ground he walked on since you were a child. How could this not be love? Besides, Rae Sloane did not love anyone — except for Lux and Hux himself, but that was different. It was not the same kind of love. They were intrinsically different.
As day and night.
As water and fire.
As earth and air.
Of course you romanticized him — which kind of person would not? Reality was not as beautiful as the fantasy. Any sane person fantasized at least a little.
You bit your bottom lip.
You were giving Rae’s words more attention than they deserved. There were far more pressing matters, such as Hux’s loan. Why in hell would he get a loan from Lady Sindian when he was wealthier than she was?
He was like the wealthier person you had ever met.
It simply made no sense.
You understood that the situation in the brewery was not looking good. Your father always said that desperate times call for desperate measures, but this was a bit too much. Certainly the numbers were not that bad, right? Not to the point he had to align himself to that hideous, greedy creature.
Grabbing your dressing gown from over your ottoman you set to find him. He was probably in his study room — drinking, or smoking — working on his paperwork. He has always been such a workaholic!
You opened the door to your anteroom and stepped outside, careful not to wake up anyone. Tiptoeing, you approached one of the windows in the long corridor of the third floor and saw some movement in the stables.
The light was very scarce. It took you a while to identify who was adjusting a saddle on a horse. You squinted your eyes and…
Fuck!
He was leaving.
You quickly ran across the corridor — the thoughts of not awaking anybody left your mind completely — and climbed down the stairs, two steps at a time, sometimes three — or as much as your legs allowed you.
It was only when you reached the outside that you realized your improper clothes and your lack of shoes. You almost yelped as your feet met the cold paving stones of the yard. Yet, you persisted, running towards the stable. Towards him.
Breathless, and with your heart on the verge of escaping your mouth, you reached him. Mounting his black mare, he was about to cross the gates. You stopped in front of him, holding the animal’s rein with all your might.
Actually, you did not know if you did it to hold yourself on your feet — you were definitely not used to such intense exercise; running after something, whatever it was, was bellow women of your social status — or to stop him.
In any way, the animal got scared and reared. He yanked the reins from your hands and held onto its large neck to remain seated. He looked at one of the guards, and one of them pulled you backwards, moving you away from the entrance. Other two closed the gates in a hurry.
It took him a while and some soothing words to calm the mare. The animal trotted a few times, neighing loudly. The General patted its neck twice, in a comforting gesture. Then, he shifted his attention to you.
“Have you gone insane?”
You twisted your wrist, breaking free from the servant. He took two steps away from you and bowed his head in an apologetic gesture. Neither you, nor the General paid him any attention.
Walking back towards the mare, you caressed her muzzle slightly, letting her smell you. When the animal neighed appreciatively, you muttered a low, “Sorry, big girl. It was never my intention to scare you.” To your husband, you merely said under your breath, “Also I am not insane.”
He narrowed his eyes at you, moving the animal aside. He gestured for the guards to open the gates once again, but you held his wrist.
Not keen on causing a scene, he broke free from your grasp — using the same technique you used on the guard; he had been the one to teach you that after all — and merely said, “Go back to sleep. Whatever you want to say can wait till tomorrow morning.”
You bit the inside of your cheeks.
“If you leave, I swear to God, Amirtage, I will get another horse and follow you. Dressed. Like. This.”
He glared at you…
…but did nothing else. He did not leave. He did not say he agreed to talk to you. He knew you fairly well by now to know you would follow him, unclothed as you were.
“Where are you going?” you asked, only to receive no answer. You arched your brows and pressed the matter, “I want to go with you.”
“You are not going (Y/N),” he replied, his patience wearing thin. “Now, move.”
You glared at him.
“Give me your coat,” you said to the same guard who had moved you away from the gates. He looked at you and then at the General, not knowing what to do. “That’s an order!” He started peeling his coat slowly, as if too stunned to act more quickly. “Now, remove your trousers as well.”
“Y-Your Ladyship!” His voice was no more than a shocked shriek. He continued to look frantically between you and the General, at loss for words.
Hux’s nostrils flared.
“Go get dressed,” he told you. “You have ten minutes.” A small smile curved your lips. You had won this battle at least. “I will leave you behind if you don’t return in this timeframe.”
To the scared guard — you would have to make it up to him one of these days —, you said, “Keep an eye on him. If he leaves before I return, you can shoot him.”
The General did not say where you were headed to. He simply set a quick pace over his black mare, forcing you to hold onto his arms around you more forcefully.
Although you could ride as easily as you could breath, you decided not to get a horse for yourself. Instead, you decided to ride with your husband. Your back was to his chest and his breath was directly to your ears.
Needless to say, he was rather displeased when you decided to sit astride the mare, like he did — like a man, what a scandal! — but he did nothing to stop you. Instead, he set a punishing pace over his old companion, expecting you to beg him to go slower.
It only made you laugh.
The wind messed your unkept hair and castigated your face — the ear that was not on the receiving end of his warm breath was about to falling off —, but you would be damned before you begged him to stop.
The faster his mare went, the harder you laughed.
After a while, he brought the animal to a stop. You heard the water running before you saw it. It took you a few seconds to realize he had brought you to Hyde Park. You were currently in a far corner of the park. The moon high up in the sky was reflected over the Serpentine lake, shyly illuminating the scenery.
He dismounted and offered you one of his hands, the other moved to your waist, helping you down. Armitage even tried to break apart at the same moment, but you tightened your hold onto his shoulders, keeping your body close to his.
His warm breath fanned your face, but he said nothing. You could smell both tobacco and whisky. It was not that strong; more of a lingering scent.
“I am sorry,” you whispered after a while.
Now — after being lectured by Rae and thinking your earlier fight through — you knew that besides having had only a business reunion with Lady Sindian — he could not blame you for keep thinking… —, you knew what he meant when he said the words pliant and last night in the same sentence.
He never meant it in a… sexual way. It was about your conversation and the fact you had opened up to each other last night.
Your heart was heavy with guilty. If only you had thought before snapping at him. If only he had left you a note...
“I am sorry I snapped at you,” you said quietly. “But you have to understand it’s highly traumatizing for me to wake up alone in our bed.”
Hux took the opportunity to break apart and put a few steps between you. He walked towards the lake, watching the calm water with his arms folded at his chest. The mare, called Millicent — a homage to his old tabby cat that died a few days before your wedding —, far too well trained, merely grazed the grass and occasionally neighed happily.
Stepping towards him, you took your time to stare at the moon through the lake. But before you could get closer, you stopped on your tracks as his bluish eyes set on you, “Care to explain your childish behavior?”
You rolled your eyes, which made him inhale sharply.
Clearly, if you were a child, he was far from the fun adult stereotype.
“Why didn’t you tell me about getting a loan with Lady Sindian?”
He snorted.
“I am impressed Rae did not tell you sooner.”
You felt highly offended at his cruel words. Not for yourself, but for Rae. She did not deserve such harsh treatment from him.
This time, his cold stare was not sufficient to make you stop. You walked to him, stopping right in front of him, invading his personal space. If he stepped back, he would only prove he was intimidated by someone smaller than him, younger than him, more of a child than him.
“Believe it or not, she is very loyal to you.”
He did not say anything to that.
He knew the truth.
He may not want to acknowledge it, but he knew.
Deep down, he knew.
“She came to me about the brewery…” you started, folding your arms at your chest as well. It was a chilly night, and in your hurry to get to him before his ten-minute mark, you forgot to get a mantle.
Always the gentleman, he removed his own and placed it over your shoulders. This time, he did not retreat. He held onto the lapels of his mantle, keeping you close as he whispered, “I wasn’t aware you were an expert.”
You glared at him, but instead of removing his hands from you, you directed yours to his face. If he wanted to intimidate you, he would have to try harder.
“You underestimate me, my Lord.”
When he did not give you a reply, you continued, “You said I am someone entirely different since you left.” You wetted your bottom lip. “You’re right. I have changed, but you have changed as well.”
He did not give you an answer. He removed both hands from his mantle, letting them fall to his sides. You even thought about mimicking him, but you wanted his complete attention. You brushed your fingers against his cheeks, removing a strand of ginger hair from his eyes.
“After you left, I began taking lessons to understand more of your business, in case… you know, I became a widow.”
He nodded, prompting you to continue.
“However, I learned you left someone to take care of the brewery in your pla—
“Rae had total—
“Rae understand about Wars, not about business,” you cut him off, receiving a glare from him. He removed your hand from his face. “At any rate, she was busy taking care of Lux. Like I said, his mother died a few hours after his birth and I didn’t know what to do with a child. Besides, I had to return to my father. We didn’t want him to suspect Lux was well and alive.”
Hux remained in silence for a moment. Calmer now, he brought your hand to his lips, bestowing upon it the briefest of kisses.
His small gesture had your heart accelerating.
“How did Poe come to be Lux’s father?”
You tried to pull your hand away from him, but he held onto you firmly. A gasp left you when he brought his lips to the inside of your wrist, kissing it softly.
“I will tell if you tell why you asked for that old rag’s money.”
His eyes darkened at your words. His caresses stopped instantly.
He let go of your wrist, letting it fall limply to your sides.
A sigh left you. You were back to square one.
Way to go, (Y/N)!
“I just don’t understand. It simply makes no sense,” you started, holding his hands between yours. You shook your head, as if to indicate your confusion, “You have more money than she has, that’s why my father married me off to you instead of taking her as his wife.”
He arched his brows.
It was as if he did not expect such reasoning from you. Whenever you talked about your marriage, you always spoke of it as a union of love — even when he clearly said that love had no space in a marriage. It was probably a surprise to see you talking about it like a reasonable adult.
Being grown-up sucks, you thought to yourself. If only Lux knew, he wouldn’t trade his childhood for nothing in this world.
Recalling his words, you reached out for the toffee you kept inside your corset. Hux’s eyes darkened at your action. You placed in his hand, closing his fingers around it.
“Lux said you were in a bad mood.”
He snorted, but tightened his hold over it all the same.
“Anyways,” you began again, dragging his attention back to the topic at hand, “she won’t leave you alone if you allow her to lend you any money. Besides, you know she believes you’re still pining after her.” You bit the inside of your cheeks, unsure where to go after that. You had not planned that far.
He tilted your chin upwards, his thumb eased your bottom lip.
“I am not pining after her.” His words, coupled with how his warm breath caressed your face, sent a shiver down your spine. He pulled your closer, and you stood on your toes so you could brush your lips against his. He broke apart before you could manage that. A defeated sigh left you.
“I’m sure we can find another way,” you whispered, holding tightly onto his hand. If he would not let you kiss him…
“We?” he asked; brows arched in surprise. He brushed his nose against yours, his lips skimming against your jaw with purpose, but he never placed them over yours. It was getting increasingly difficult to have a straight conversation with him at this point. He took your earlobe between his teeth, applying some pressure. A moan of both pleasure and frustration left you. “What do you mean by we?”
You swallowed.
“We’re married, Armitage. It’s time we start acting as such.” You pursed your lips into a thin line. It was time you started acting like the adult you were. If Rae and even he himself always accused you of being childish, it was probably because you behave like that most of times. “We won’t accomplish nothing if we keep fighting every second.”
He broke apart from you.
You were a bit dizzy after his ministrations.
“You are right,” he conceded. “But I have to take her offer.”
“Why?” Your eyes were widened. “Goddammit, Amirtage, haven’t you heard a word of what I just said?”
Holding onto your chin, he brushed his lips against yours. Finally giving you the kiss you yearned so much for since this conversation took a flirtatious turn. He did not linger more than a few seconds, but it was sufficient to make you hum in contentment.
“I did, my dear wife,” he said, placing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You sighed. He ran the back of this forefinger over the side of your neck, making you shiver. You bit your bottom lip when he enclosed his hand around your throat — just like he did last night, while making love to you. The mere remembrance made you weak on the knees, “but my damned father made sure I will only have access to the total sum of my inheritance only when I have an heir of my own.”
A/N - And that will be all for today! I’ll see you next Thursday!
In the General’s Bed finally updated | A Regency Hux x Reader story
VI - To Resent a General available on AO3.
Summary: The General is cornered… Upon returning from a successful campaign in Battle of Waterloo, Armitage Hux knows he has no excuses left; he must produce the much-needed heir. The problem is, when the two of you parted five years ago, it was not in the best of terms. Now, he may not find his wife, you, so willing as he first expected, nor keen on taking part in any of his political games. [Hux x Reader – Hux x You – Regency AU].
@trelaney another gift for you. I hope you like it xD
In the General’s Bed - Regency!Hux x Reader - Ch. 4 - To play a General
A/N - Hi, darlings! xD As promised, here I am to update chapter 4 of ITGB. This one has one of my fav cliffs ever. Sorry I do love cliffhangers xD I also quite like how Hux and Reader try to understand each other a little better here, but they’re people of their time and if couples aren’t known for talking to each other nowadays, what can we expect from people from 1815, right? Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Story Summary: The General is cornered… Upon returning from a successful campaign in Battle of Waterloo, Armitage Hux knows he has no excuses left; he must produce the much-needed heir. The problem is, when the two of you parted five years ago, it was not in the best of terms. Now, he may not find his wife, you, so willing as he first expected, nor keen on taking part in any of his political games. [Hux x Reader – Hux x You – Regency AU].
Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.
“MY LADY,” THE GOVERNESS BEGAN, HER TONE DID NOTHING TO HIDE HER NERVOUNESS. SHE WAS SHAKING. “HIS LORDSHIP ASKED IF YOU WOULD GIVE HIM THE PLEASURE OF YOUR COMPANY IN THE BREAKFAST TABLE.”
In other words, Hux demanded your presence. Right. Now.
You smiled in spite of yourself. You would have laughed but thought that maybe it the governess would think you were laughing at her — which was also the case, but not only nor the main cause. Bringing your cup of tea to your lips, you savored it as if you had never tasted anything so good.
“You may tell him that I appreciate his invitation, but I shall decline.”
There was a moment of silence, which you used to drink more of your tea before you lost control of yourself and laughed out loud. Then a sharp intake of breath and finally a confused, “My Lady?”
“That will be all.”
She bowed, her face contorted into a grimace of both fear and… disapproval? You did not know, and you did not care. Before she could leave, however, you said, “I see that your uniform is in… adequate condition today.”
You could have asked if Rae said something, but you thought that she would have more than enough to handle as soon as she told Hux you would not be joining him.
She blushed, visibly embarrassed with your words.
“Thank you, Your Ladyship.”
As soon as the door was closed, you put your cup on the tray and brought both of your hands to your face. Your head hit the pillow and you finally laughed. If not for having the tray placed over your legs, you would have kicked the mattress as well.
What a day!
What. A. Day.
By now, your beloved husband probably had finished reading The Times and mainly the gossip column — only that could explain why he asked for your company when he knew you were dismissed of having breakfast at the table.
As a Marquess and a married Lady, you were actually encouraged to have breakfast alone, secluded in your own chambers. It denoted your nobility and importance in a household. And while you thought that was simply old fashioned bullshit, it never came so in hand.
You laughed again as you thought about Hux’s face right now.
Did he yell at the governess?
Did he hit the table with his fists?
Did his face get as red as his hair?
Ah, you would simply love to be in his company right now.
No.
Actually, you would give everything you had to be a small fly, so you could spy on him without denouncing yourself.
That would be… just awesome.
You laughed some more and concentrated on your breakfast, your eyes on the world beyond those windows. Albeit closed, the curtains were opened and you could see the sun shining outdoors.
What a lovely day.
You closed your eyes and inhaled your tea. It was warm — you bet as warm as the beautiful sunrays coming through the window, it was a pity you would not go on a walking with Lux that morning.
He loved playing outdoors, but after what you did — and mainly after Poe’s funeral — you thought that was not a smart decision.
Again, how did Hux react?
The waiting was killing you.
You counted to ten, expecting him to come banging on your door. He did not. But that was to be expected. He demanded you — with polite words, of course, but that was still an order — to come to him and explain yourself — you defied him — and he would not go to you. Unless he wanted to be seen as weak he would stay exactly where he was.
Clever.
That was a very childish power play and neither of you wanted to give up. Neither of you would give up. Neither would be seen as weak.
You expected him to avoid your chambers till night, when he would have to prepare for the Ball hosted by His Grace, the Duke of Wellington, in honor of the great and well-regarded Commander Poe Dameron.
Honestly, if not for having Lady Organa — and Rae, if you could convince her to join you; she simply hated such events — you would have declined his invitation. The man was getting ahead of himself. A Ball in honor of his Commander a day after his burial? As much as Poe was a lively person, you viewed the Duke’s action as reckless and not so thought-out.
A small smile crept to your lips…
Well, even more reason to go and put a convenient smile to your face. If the Royal Family would not meet their General — as responsible for the unbelievable victory over the French as their Major General — you would make sure they heard of him.
You wondered if after his thunderous reputation after the Battle of Waterloo he talked about politics with his wife — he probably did not. There was word out there that his marriage to Catherine Wellesley was highly unsatisfactory, with the Duke pursuing other partners in broad daylight — and who were his political advisers. They were probably all old men and lacked the necessary qualities to play the politic game in the Ton.
A sigh left your lips as you thought that Hux was not that very different. Although he did not consult with old rags — he had Rae Sloane, but Rae knew about Wars, not about the Ton — he did not talk to you. It was beyond frustrating!
Well… You just had to prove him wrong.
To prove them wrong.
It was past lunch — this time you had to go downstairs, but Hux was locked in his study in what seemed to be a very important meeting with Rae Sloane and a manager recently arrived from Dublin — when you finally crossed paths with him.
You would have turned away, before he noticed you — and declared he had won your little, petty competition — but stopped at hearing his voice.
He was in the drawing room with Lux. To your complete despair, he was reading a story to the boy. Reading the same fable you did when you caught him faking illness.
If you did not think him utterly ridiculous, you would have felt some anger creeping through your veins.
And judging by Lux’s confused face, that was certainly not the fable he had been reading before you entered the drawing room. That made your need to smile even more noticeable.
Ridiculous.
And he dared calling you childish.
The smile quickly died in your mouth. If he still believed you were lying — not that you vehemently denied and dismissed his romantics about being Lux’s fathers last night, actually you merely waved him off and said that he would never know the answer for sure —, he would be very mad after tonight.
Well, he would be very mad at you for meddling in his business — he already was — but that had to be done. The announcement over Lux’s adoption on The Times was necessary. Actually, vital to his political career.
By now, the Royal Family must have heard of him. If not about his successful campaign in the Napoleonic Wars, at least about his courageous and heartfelt act after a brother in arms suddenly and tragically passed away.
You would make sure of that.
However, your actions may have seen as another of your childish attempts at driving him away from whom he thought to be his son and heir. Now you regretted your answer. If you told him — for real — the whole story he would understand, wouldn’t he?
When Lux saw you, his smile brightened, and he disentangled himself from your husband and ran to you.
A small smile touched your lips as you bowed slightly and patted his ginger hair lovingly. He giggled when you tapped his little nose.
“Mama, would you like to hear a story?”
You even opened your mouth to reply, but Hux closed the book within his right hand immediately, indicating he would by no means read you a story — perhaps another fable on why lying was a bad thing. Perhaps you should read some on why he should trust his family.
Trust you.
If you said Lux was not his son it was because he was not.
Period.
What was so difficult about that?
You barely realized you forgot to give Lux an answer and was instead glaring at Hux. The boy pulled the skirts of your black dress and asked, his brows furrowed, “Mama?”
“Oh, yes, darling,” you replied with a warm smile. “I would love to, it is, if Lord Hux would be so kind to read us another fable.”
“He was reading one about how the horse…” He touched his lips with his index finger, a pensive expression taking his childish features.
“The Horse that lost its Liberty,” Hux completed for him, opening the book in the same page of before.
This time, you were the one who furrowed your brows.
“Why?”
“I love horses!” Lux said in his place, his tone as eager and enthusiastic as ever.
All traces of that crying boy from last night were gone. He did not look as a child who had just lost his father. In fact, it seemed he did not even remember Poe and his importance in his life — which was not that great, you reminded yourself.
And Lux is just four.
Just yesterday you were telling yourself that a child his age had problems grasping the concepts of life and death, you could simply not expect him to keep on crying all day long. That was too much to ask of a child.
Besides, you loved when he smiled.
Just not when Hux was the reason.
You glared at your husband again. He shrugged, and the shadow of a smile tugged the corner of his lips. He seemed very pleased with himself for again making Lux more interested in him than yourself.
How you hated him.
“Believe it or not, Lady Hux, one can read fables without disciplinary thoughts in mind as well.”
You bit your bottom lip, not very keen on giving the answer he deserved in front of Lux.
“Will you read for us, my Lord?” you said instead.
He eyed you with those bluish eyes of his filled with some feeling you could not quite put your finger on, but deduced he was having some fun at your expense.
Lux took you by the hand and approached the couch, where they were both sitting before you arrived and took his seat between you and Hux. The boy leaned against you, as he usually did when you read him a story, and placed your hand on his hair, so you could run your fingers through his ginger locks. You kissed the top of his head and inhaled his sweet scent.
His innocent and seemingly subconscious action brought Hux’s eyes to him, eyeing him with renewed interest.
Bothered with his stare, you cleared your throat and glared at him. He glared back, and his voice was finally heard in the so far silent drawing room.
“Will you tell him the truth?” Rae Sloane asked as if that was nothing as she the tightened your corset to its maximum.
You gasped and placed one hand over the mirror positioned in the middle of your dressing room to balance yourself. After spending the entire day reading agreements and taking Hux’s young manager, Dopheld Mitaka, to a walk in Hyde Park, she dismissed your Lady’s Maid, stating she would help you herself tonight.
Not very keen on picking an unnecessary fight — even if Rae was just horrible with your hair —, and actually eager to be in her company, you accepted her help — but you would do your hair yourself or just call your Lady’s Maid back. Rae was not touching a strand of your hair. Although proficient with the most complicated hairdos, she always left you with a bugging headache whenever she got near your head.
Right now, she was leaving you breathless.
“Gods, Rae, I can’t breathe!”
“You have gained weight,” she changed topic as if her last question meant nothing. And in fact, given the current situation, you would say it didn’t.
“I can’t be pregnant,” you replied, fanning yourself with both hands. “We haven’t even…” You bit your bottom lip. Why were you telling her that? “You know… Properly… Well, yes and no.”
She cast a hard glance at you through the mirror. You felt all color leaving your face.
“I am not interested in your intimate life with the General, (Y/N).”
You breathed through your nose and laughed shortly.
“General…” You shook your head, it made her pull even tighter the corset strings. “It’s funny when you call him like that. It’s feels like you’re not his—
“I am not,” she interrupted you, tying the knot firmly in place. She moved away, searching for the skirt of your clothing and you finally breathed slowly. “There is a reason why I never had children, (Y/N). I am not his mother, as you are not Lux’s mother.”
Well, you told yourself that every single night before sleeping and every single day just after you woke up, but hearing those words leaving someone’s lips — someone you considered dearly — in such a crude manner always hurt you.
They felt like a slap to your face.
“You love him as such…” you whispered and bit your bottom lip. Any chance you had of saving a little of your dignity was long gone now.
She gestured for you to stay still as she adjusted the buttons of your dress and smoothed its skirt. It was a gorgeous evening gown; one you prided yourself on owning. With its bluish, black and white colors, it was surely a different piece of what everyone paraded within in the Ton.
Perhaps black was the more appropriate color, but you bet the Duke’s wife would be wearing such color and you refused to be compared to someone’s else — even if someone of higher position in the Ton.
“My feelings have nothing to do with this mess you’ve created.”
Again, a slap would have hurt less.
“I know nothing of the Ton, (Y/N), as you well know. But let me tell you something, I do know your husband and he will not forgive you if you play him. Tell him the truth. Tonight.”
You bit your bottom lip.
What did she expect you to say? Your statement to the newspaper should be enough. If Lord and Lady Hux were adopting Poe Dameron’s son, it was because the child was not his!
“Could you do it yourself?” you asked, only to be met with a hard glare through the mirror. “You know he listens to you far more than the listens to me.”
She took her time to give you a reply and you feared for your dignity again — it is, if it still existed? When she did not, she left you agape.
“I am calling your Lady’s Maid to help you with your hair.”
If you had to use a word to describe this night, it would be hypocritical. The very same feeling of yesterday at the funeral returned.
No one was there to celebrate Poe’s life or his importance as a Commander in the War — most people there did not even know about their soldiers. On the contrary, they were eager to strengthen their alliances with the Duke and maybe get a closer look at the General and you.
At least you made a far more striking pair than the Duke and his wife, that’s for sure. As expected, everyone was dressing black and your colors contrasted to those present in the Ballroom.
The Duchess was certainly one to set fashion tendencies and every guest expected her to dress black — and she did not disappoint them and neither you. Once again, you were right. People in Ton were so predictable it hurt.
And it was boring.
You cast a glance at Hux over the shoulder of your current partner. A traditional Ball — even one taking place after a burial — required good wine and brandy, music and dances. After having dancing with your husband twice, you had two more partners.
One of them was the hateful Agent Terex — you did your best to seal your lips and prevent yourself from giving him a piece of your mind. The other was Captain Solo — he was known to be a Pirate in the past and whisked you away from a very displeased Lord Terex. Lady Organa’s husband was a sarcastic man who hated Balls and anything even remotely related to the Ton — which was actually refreshing. It was funny how a popular Duchess fell in love with him — everyone knew their marriage to be one of love, no sane woman would marry Han Solo, a poor sailor — after he decided to leave his days as a pirate behind him — the best in the whole world, or so he said.
Their son, Ben Solo did not come with them, which seemed to please Hux greatly. You would have to know what happened between them back in the War, it seemed to affect their relationship significantly.
Lady Organa and the Duchess Catherine both congratulated you on your and Hux’s decision to adopt Poe’s son. According to the Duchess, the poor, little thing needed a family more than ever now. She even said she would adopt him herself — in spite of the fact she had two children already — if no one stepped up to take care of him.
You felt your blood leaving from your face as you forced yourself to smile and hold your tongue. Part of you was taken by an almost uncontrollable fury as she cogitated the possibility of taking Lux to herself. You never needed Rae Sloane so much in your entire life! At least Lady Organa was there and changed topics, complimenting you for your dress.
She wore white and orange — Poe’s favorite colors.
Now you were dancing with the Duke of Wellington himself. Hux’s eyes were on you as the musicians stopped playing the melody of the traditional Strasbourgeoise Cotillion and the tune of a waltz began.
A few older ladies gasped — Lady Organa was certainly not one of them — for waltz was a popular dance in France, people in the British Empire still considered it too bold — scandalous even. It was certainly a dance that demanded too much of body closeness.
After the first steps, everyone was forced to stop. Agent Terex was close to the musicians, hitting his goblet of champagne with a spoon he probably got from the dinner offered earlier.
He cleared his throat, getting everyone’s attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice sounding much louder in the now silent Ballroom. “I propose a toast…”
Before he could continue, every footman filled waiting cups with the finest champagne or gave goblets to those who did not have any.
Your heart hammered in your chest as you waited for his words. That was definitely not what nor whom you had in mind when you thought about the announcement tonight.
It was impossible not to notice the Duke was tense as well.
You searched for Hux’s eyes, but he was not looking at you this time.
“For Commander Dameron.” He finished, raising his goblet.
Everyone in the Ballroom mimicked him. The Duke relaxed visibly.
“And…” Agent Terex continued, his voice denouncing how much he had drank — as if his terrible breath was not enough. “I would like to congratulate Lord Hux and Lady Hux…”
Definitely not what you were expecting — nor how you were expecting…
“…for their empathetic and wise decision to adopt Commander Dameron’s son.”
His last words were followed by a minute of silence — in which your husband finally looked at you. Your heart galloped in your chest in rhythmless beats — and then everyone repeated For Lord and Lady Hux.
A few guests, having their crystal goblets placed over trays the footmen were carrying around, even applauded the announcement.
With the help of Captain Solo, Agent Terex left the small area and the musicians resumed playing. The melody filled the Ballroom and the couples were once again dancing around you and the Duke.
He bowed dutifully in front of you and brought your gloved hand to a courteous kiss.
“It warms my heart to know such a young boy will be well cared for, my Lady.”
This time, you could not discern in his tone if he was being sincere or if that was just another mask. You narrowed your eyes, but there was no time to come to a conclusion, for Hux approached you, followed by the Duchess of Wellington.
The Duke slowly let go of your hand and instead offered his arm to his wife. A sigh of relief left you as soon as you saw them ready to leave you and your husband alone.
“We just hope—” the Duke began, his eyes fixed on Hux, “that he won’t be forgotten as soon as you finally bear Lord Hux his heir.”
With him positioned behind you, it was impossible to see his reaction — if he expressed any. Part of you expected such direct attack from the Duchess, but she seemed far politer than her husband. Another part of you tried to come up quickly with a response that would show he picked a fight with the wrong people, but Hux beat you to that. Taking your gloved hand between his and bringing it to his lips, he said,
“Your worries are groundless, Your Grace. Lady (Y/N)’s love for Lux is immensurable.” He placed a small kiss on your cheeks. “Now, if you are worried about heritage, then perhaps you should ask your own wife about her opinion.”
A small gasp left both you and the Duchess. The Duke’s face contorted in anger, but he remained silent. He would not risk his image over something that would have the entire Ton talking for weeks to come and the gossip columns in The Times making a fuss about next morning.
It did not mean you did not feel sorry for the poor woman. It was a truth universally acknowledged, that His Grace did not seek her anymore. Their marriage was one of convenience nowadays and even if she bore him two sons, everyone questioned their first offspring.
They departed in silence. Both you and Hux bowed dutifully. You had no idea how differently you could have acted. You shifted your attention to him, about to ask if he was ready to leave when he pulled you to him.
“That was mean,” you said as soon as he placed his hand on your waist and directed your left to his shoulder. “Even for you.”
He did not give you an answer. Not that you expected one. You should scold him for saying such outrageous words to a Duke, nonetheless. And yet, you saw yourself thank him in your mind. Although you considered his reply disrespectful and even offensive, you could not blame him for defending you. After all, the Duke was the first to treat you as a mere offspring repository.
He saw that coming.
People would talk — he would talk — if Lord Hux did not defend the honor of his own wife.
Instead, you saw yourself saying, “I thought you were mad at me.”
There was another moment of silence as he guided you in light and fluid steps. He was a great dancer, you always thought that. Your heart always accelerated whenever he took you to the center of the Ballroom. As an adolescent, you would always watch him dancing with other ladies and get jealous of them for having his attention all to themselves.
In the shadows, you watched him and imagined yourself in their place, in his arms, dancing with him — you even dreamed of kissing him. It was with indecorous happiness — for no woman should take so much pleasure in such simplistic occasion — that you had your first dance with him when you debuted in the Season, when you were eighteen years old.
Seven years…
You were startled to realize so many years had gone by. After that dance, your life changed forever. With eighteen you had your first kiss with him. With nineteen you got engaged to him. With twenty, the two of you got married.
Touching his cheeks — a highly improper move that had guests all around you gasping —, you furrowed your brows. There was no time to say anything, for he began,
“You fooled me.” His voice was cold; his eyes expressionless. “I must say I am impressed by your strategy.”
Brows still furrowed, you removed your hand from his face and moved it to his shoulder. He used that opportunity to bring you closer to him — the closeness between your bodies far more shocking for those people unused to such scandalous dances —, his mouth on your ear, so no one would hear his next words,
“You say you love Lux, but all you did recently was using him to improve your social position in the Ton.”
As if burned, you stopped dancing altogether and glared at him. If not for the guests all around you, you probably would have hit him right in the face.
Perhaps punched him.
You had never punched anyone, but the need was never as great as it was right now. Biting your bottom lip, you let your fingers slip from his hand.
His eyes were focused on yours as he ran his right hand over your face. The need to step back and get away from him was almost overwhelming but you held yourself in place.
“You say I have changed… But you are someone else entirely, (Y/N).” He ran his fingers over your bottom lip, it trembled slightly as the need to bite him — spite on him, cry because of him — took over you. “I expected so much more from you.”
When you finally found your voice, it was broken and hoarse. Your eyes were full of tears you did your best to cover.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lord Hux.”
After you arrived from the Ball, you entered Lux’s bedroom and dismissed his tutoress. You expected him to be sleeping soundly, but he was wide awake. You sniffed and blinked twice to dissipate the need to cry.
He was holding between his chubby fingers the very drawing that fell from your book when that very fateful day when Hux returned to your life.
And how you hated it.
Hated him.
Every ounce of love you felt for him was slowly dying whenever he addressed you with his cruel, unkind words.
You are a bad liar, a voice in your head said. Part of you knew that it only hurt — his words, his behavior, his coldness — because deep down — in the very bottom of your heart — you still loved him. Part of you tried to reassure you that you loved the man from the past. Not the man who came back from a successful campaign in Waterloo.
You shook your head and concentrated on Lux. He did not realize you were in his chambers. He was so engrossed with the drawing, he could not have seen a real horse trotting in front of him.
It was Hux’s drawing. One he had made in one afternoon the two of you escaped to a picnic. Your lady in waiting was left behind — only to be harshly punished by your father later; that poor creature — and you found yourself alone in his company. As your father could not suspect any illicit nor lusty activity between you, Hux took his time to draw your horse.
Obviously, it did not prevent you from rolling in the grass — with you landing over him and wresting with him for such prized position — and kissing till your lips were aching and swollen.
Those were indeed happy days…
… and you could only regret that they were gone, and you were stuck with a control freak and pale shadow of the albeit melancholic, so very romantic man you had fallen in love with.
You recalled that afternoon as if it happened just yesterday. When the two of you were parting, he kissed your hand in a gentlemanly gesture in front of your father and handed him the proof of how well behaved while he was alone with you. In your fingers, though, there was a small paper with your face sketched and a small message written in a careless manner.
Soon, beloved.
Of that small sketch of your face there was nothing left. Your father made sure to rip it apart when he caught the two of you kissing in Hux’s study room — he had reasons to believe the worst; you were sitting over his desk and he was between your legs. His hair was disheveled and your hands were between his clothes, touching his chest. That was how far you went, but your father was sure you had disgraced yourself that day and it took you a while, and daily doses of humiliation extended to Hux as well, to prove him wrong. He tried to do the same to the other drawing, but you placed it in your clothes before he could get his hands on it.
Lux was holding this drawing close to his chest and looking at it with the innocent passion only a child could muster.
You approached him and sat on his bed.
“You really like him, don’t you?” you asked, running your fingers through his cheeks. It seemed to tickle him, for he giggled and slapped your hand gently away.
Offering your hand to him you helped him sit on the bed, you watched as he handed you the drawing as well, so you could place it on his bedside table.
He nodded his response.
The boy has a sweet tooth, he had said last night when the two of you talked in the dead of the night in each other’s arms. He likes toffee.
“Because he gives you sweets,” you tried, your voice a bit unsure.
His smile was so bright it could rival the very sun. Although you loved to know Lux could like someone like Hux instead of merely hating him, it worried you greatly that he could be hurt in the near future. For you knew for sure Hux did not know how to love or how to reciprocate anyone’s feelings.
He merely ‘liked’ Lux for now because he firmly believed to be his father. It was very convenient for him to father a son — the Royal Family would look kindly upon any man having a family. Once he believed you and accepted the truth, you doubted he would be so willing to give the boy even a sideway glance.
But his words…
…they mean nothing…
…they must…
You were conflicted. Part of you wanted to find excuses for his behavior — even if you knew there was none — and another part wanted to label him as Satan himself.
The mere thought made your heart break. Albeit strict, Armitage Hux was a man who exerted some sort of fascination over people. He was alluring. And people who came to know him, loved him easily. Rae Sloane, for one, did love him. Needless to mention your own feelings for the man… and now Lux loved him as well…
Oh, Gods! You would kill Hux if he made your Little Lord suffer!
“Yes, and because he will give me his horse.” His high-pitched voice dragged you back to the present time.
You looked at him with widened eyes, surprise all written over your face.
“He will?”
Lux nodded. His smile easy on his face. He brought both hands to his eyes and rubbed them a few times.
“It’s time to sleep, Little Lord.” You helped him under the covers and ran your hands through his hair. “Actually, you should have slept hours ago.”
He shook his head.
Too tired, but too excited to give in to sleep.
So stubborn…
“He will teach me to ride too, Mama!”
His excitement seemed to die a bit as he yawned.
“When I get big and old.”
He focused his chestnut eyes on you and asked, his voice no more than a worried whisper, “will that take long?”
You laughed a bit and kissed his forehead.
“It will come soon enough, Little Lord.”
Sooner than I expect.
Or want.
You were returning to your chambers when you stopped in front of Rae’s bedroom and recalled her words.
Tell him the truth.
You bit your bottom lip and shook your head.
No.
You were not going to talk to him.
Not even if your life depended on it.
Tonight.
She would be very disappointed in you next morning.
But what could you do?
Hux made it very clear he did not believe a word you said about loving him, about Lux’s parentage. He did not believe you. Period.
It made your heart ache and you felt highly stupid for still having feelings for him. He was the last person in the universe who deserved your love.
Heavens, he did not believe you when you said you loved Lux — your most precious thing. The light of your life.
You did your best not to recall his words, they were to cruel and made your heart sore and small.
Shaking your head, you opened the doors of your chambers, only to find him sitting in the anteroom, a cigar between his fingers and a glass with brandy resting on the coffee table.
It was very rare to see him smoking. He was not a man of vices. In fact, this current Hux in front of you was a very meticulous man, a man who controlled and was not controlled by anyone or anything.
A man who hurt and never got hurt.
His words returned to you with full force.
You say you love Lux, but all you did recently was using him…
You cut his voice in your mind, shaking your head and walking to the bedroom. He did not spare you even a single glance.
The words continued, this time almost a chant.
You say you love Lux…
Biting your bottom lip, you removed your dressing gown and held it in your arms.
You say you love Lux…
“Enough!” It took you a while — and a confused stare from him — for you to realize you had said the words aloud. You even brought both hands to your mouth in a mortified gesture, but you shook your head.
Tell him the truth.
You were trembling.
With rage.
With disgust.
With disappointment.
With love for Lux.
…for him…
But you were also trembling with hate.
For him.
For yourself.
For his father.
For your father.
You walked to him. Stopped right in front of him. And took his glass of brandy, taking the liquid all at once.
If you were to say the truth — the ugly truth — you had to have at least some alcohol running through your veins.
“Do you want to hear the truth?”
He did not give you a reply.
His bluish eyes were focused on you. Intense. Burning with a cold flame that hurt you more than his words. In a dismissive gesture, he brought the cigar to his lips.
It was clear he did not want to hear whatever you had to say.
But now he would.
You would make sure he did.
“My father hated you.”
If these words bothered him you would never know, for he did not how any reaction to them. It was well known that your father disapproved greatly of him and his ancestry.
A bastard!
You gave yourself to a useless bastard!
He had called Armitage a bastard in countless occasions. His own father called him that every once in a while. Not every day. No. It would be the same of reminding himself he could only produce an heir — any heir — outside wedlock. It would remind him of his own failure.
You braced yourself for the next words.
“He would never allow any child of yours to live.”
That made Hux’s shoulders tense. He sat straighter in the couch and lowered the cigar to the cinder-box.
“Did he…” He let the question in the air. He could not even look at you. His eyes were cast on the floor. Your negative reply made him cast a glance at you with some relief. “I would kill him if he—
“No. But he laughed at me when my menses came.”
It still hurt to recall his happiness while you cried yourself to sleep in Rae’s arms. Your heart was flooded with fondness for this woman who took you under her care as if you were her own child.
There is a reason why I never had children.
She was a far better mother than most mothers you had met in your life — your own included.
“He was happy that it did not take root. It was not even six months after that and upon your disappearance that he decided to marry me off to another man.”
His lips were pursed into a thin line…
…And you thought that you saw some anguish in his eyes…?
You shook your head. You were reading too much into his reactions. It was only natural that he would be mad at your father — men all over the Empire considered women to be their properties. Hux was no different.
“But then, he suddenly stopped.”
He furrowed his brows.
No words left his lips.
His silence was never so welcomed before.
“It took me and Rae a while to figure it out… But he was having an affair with a village girl in Southampton.” You sat beside him and took the cigar. You had never smoked before — the only time you tried, you did it wrong and ended up with a coughing fit. He took it away from you and brought it to his lips.
“Go on.”
You bit your bottom lip, regretting the fact that you did not have anything alcoholic to drink in your chambers.
“This girl…” You looked down. “This girl had your hair… but chestnut eyes.”
He pursed his lips into a thin line.
“You know… Don’t you?” you asked, your voice broken.
He nodded.
For long, uncountable minutes there was only the sound of the cigar becoming ashes in the cinder-box. A sepulchral silence enveloped you.
Subconsciously, your hands sought his and your fingers entwined.
“I suspected it,” he finally admitted it, looking at your palms pressed together. He ran his thumb over your pulse absentmindedly.
“She was younger than you and me,” you continued in a whisper. “But she was the legitimate daughter your father never knew he had. My father—
You did not realize you were crying till you felt his fingers on your face, wiping them away.
“Is a monster.”
He brought you to the comfort of his arms. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and cried your heart out. It had been long since you let yourself think about this story.
“Was a monster.”
He ran his fingers through your hair, trying to comfort you. It only made you cry more.
“She was no more than a child. He…”
“Forced her,” he finished for you; his voice no more than an emotionless whisper.
This made you cry harder.
He had never met his sister. He never would.
Your father was truly a monster. The worst kind of monster. Because he hated Armitage and the prospect of him having his title — even if he desperately needed Armitage’s money — revolted, sickened him, he forced himself upon your husband’s only living parent. Thus, their offspring — unlike yours — would be fit to have his damned title.
In his eyes, you were no better than a whore — the only daughter he had had given herself to a bastard.
“Lux is my nephew,” he said, holding you by the nape and forcing you — albeit not unkindly — to face him.
You nodded.
“And my brother.”
A/N - Well, that’s it for today, kids! Unlike BB, I still have left two more chapters of this story to update here. I’m on a tight schedule right now, so that’s why you aren’t getting ant updates from me. Sorry, but I really have to finish my thesis xD. Anyways, I hope you’ve liked it xD
