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The Rarity

I wrote a confession to @thirst-order-confessions once regarding a rather weird imagine about General Hux’s dearest Millicent being a werecat. Well, I was hardcore procrastinating at the time, although that was not the weirdest idea I have ever had. Nor the silliest I have ever written...

Word count: 1900+

Characters: OFC, Millicent, Armitage Hux, Thanisson, Kylo Ren

Trigger Warning: bullying, animal cruelty, harm, implied sexual slavery

Originally posted on AO3.

THE RARITY

“Thanisson,” I barked upon entering the hangar control room. “Congratulations to your promotion,” a mockery overtaking control over my words; “report to the commanding officer in Cargo Bay Six immediately.” I did not attempt to hide the sarcasm I successfully managed to carve into my speech. I swear every sight of him sets my blood to boil.

The young officer I had addressed as Thanisson stood up before his workstation. “Ma’am, I don’t think –”

“You’re right: you don’t think. Now, don’t mess with me, Thanisson. ‘Tis my kingdom now. And I don’t want you here. You’re being transferred to Bay Six this instant. Leave your station now, please.”

The younger officer stood up, his eyes narrowed. “Aye aye, Ma’am,” he said at last, yet clenching his hands into fists could not go unnoticed by some.

Taking a few steps towards me, he looked into my eyes defiantly before he exited through the door, followed by eyes of his co-workers but mine. Quite stubborn as I was, I did not want to end as defeated in our small private pissing contest. “Carry on your duties,” I growled in frustration. Today I was not in particularly bright mood; nobody would be after observing bruises healing too slowly to one’s liking I guess. The slightest contact with any object around me would send signals via neural system to my brain where it would transform into particularly painful nibs in an instant.

No, those were not bruises inflicted by him. Certain ginger would not harm me. Ever.

I proceeded to observe my own reflection in the glass window overseeing the traffic of the Bay Two, my recently claimed territory. Immersed in my own thoughts, I did not register the sudden call at first, but hissing voice repeating “Control Bay Two, this is Ace One,” made me grab the receiver finally.

“Ace One, this is Control, go ahead,” I said with a side glance towards the radar. I considered this an unscheduled spacecraft approach since there was none reported for that hour because of planned maintenance currently progressing down there.

“Control, Ace One requesting clearance for arrival through Approach Foxtrot.”

Except there was no Approach Foxtrot for Bay Two unless the Ace One intended to crash against the hull.

“Negative, Ace One, proceed through Approach Bravo,” I said, confirming further details with the shuttle pilot before the craft landed in the bay, directly in my plain sight – only to reveal ginger-haired General striding down the ramp returning form the inspection circuit around the Star Destroyer a few moments later.

Well, my heart almost stopped pumping oxygen to my brain, it seemed, and I froze in place. How could he be at two places simultaneously? – I mean I would swear that it was him I saw on the bridge a mere hour ago. Unless he had a doppelganger. Or the time flew by without my notice. Either way, I handed the receiver back to the operation officer sitting beside me, waiting anxiously for the General’s arrival to demand preliminary report from me.

Yet he never came. Kriffin’ pompous ass, I thought.

Acting as the supervising officer, I was delayed due to the maintenance in the Bay Two, and returned to my quarters too late and too exhausted to bother with anything. I could not care less about a thing outside work lately; although the Finalizer had been commissioned about half year ago, various glitches were still resurfacing, ruining someone’s presumably hard work totally and effectively. It appeared as if the construction process had not been finished yet. All I could hope for these days was that there would be no accident with deadly consequences.

I would expect anything but my curse to manifest that night, shortly after its previous fit, however. And thus I found myself wandering through deserted corridors of the Finalizer once more.

Well, I shall not talk about it as of some curse, though. Being what I am was a trait distinctive to our relatively closed society originating on my homeworld before it was consumed by minor black hole – and all who escaped found themselves in captivity sooner or later. Captivity? No – term slavery suited it better.

Remembering being a slave to the Hutts still triggers memories I would rather have forgotten; since we Gingers were considered as rare commodity, certain sort of customers would pay high price for few moments of pleasure with us.

- - -

“Shoo, filthy creature!” a voice roared behind the ginger ball of fur, followed by the blaster shot a second later. Thankfully the Stormtrooper missed.

Yet his colleague’s baton did not, and the cat was knocked cold for a moment.

“Is it dead?” the first one asked whilst approaching it warily.

“It certainly will be,” the other chuckled darkly under his helmet, and taking two three steps closer, he kicked the animal mercilessly – once, twice, three times – until he stopped abruptly, startled by the impossible howl the creature gave out suddenly. It stood up quickly and then, with a hiss, ran away.

Both Stormtroopers chased after it.

They managed to corner it, too. But animals can be cunning, and the cat found its way out of their trap by squeezing through a random air went before they could deliver a final blow.

The cat appeared in a dimly lit – and thankfully deserted at the moment – quarters of that one person whom everyone else feared the most. Kylo Ren. His death count had already boosted since he got on board. Nobody would dare to approach him willingly, keeping out of the proximity of his presence unless it was safely known that the Knight was on off-board mission –

Like just now.

The animal immediately headed to Ren’s pile of ashes he was keeping in there. Hopefully, its conserved warmth would ease the pain of sustained beating for a while in otherwise rather cold environment of the spaceship. And thus, curled into the furry ball, the cat fell into exhausted sleep.

The Knight of Ren stormed into his quarters later that night, returning from his unsuccessful mission ahead of the Supreme Leader’s proposed schedule. His groans of frustration filled the room, but not before the door closed behind him properly. And those groans were too soon succeeded by angry swinging of red lightsaber, its cracking and hissing sounds quickly nearing the ashes, destroying everything that got into its path in the process. It ceased only when his pent-up rage was utterly spent; and even then Kylo Ren stood in the middle of the living space, panting heavily.

“You,” he growled, piercing the ginger animal with furious look. “Get out of here, you little shit! Or I won’t give you the second chance!”

Shouted threat gradually became a hiss full of dark promises of painful suffering, and even though cats might be generally considered as lesser, dull and filthy animals, it seemed as if this individual understood instantly, for it stood up, jumped off the table and ran off into the shadows, leaving Master of the Knights questioning his show of weakness – the mercy he so graciously offered to the creature, without second thoughts. He could end its miserable life so easily, yet he let it go.

- - -

I came to my senses in unfamiliar surroundings while the sorrowful sight of Kylo Ren from the strange dream still lingered before my eyes, haunting me.

It was neither uncommon for me to black out nor it happened for the first time. Yet it was out of the ordinary that I woke up in someone else’s quarters, lying stark-naked in the chaise lounge – by this point, I registered a faint ghost of my pale body in the window opening to the black vastness of deep space. Also, my whole being ached as if I had suffered a severe corporal punishment previously; the dull pain elicited an involuntary whine from me. I was not proud of myself at all; a feeling of humiliation crept to my mind.

Startled by the sounds coming from the direction of refresher, I soon found myself staring at General Hux. He was standing there only with a towel wrapped around his hips; and by then it was fairly obvious that I had intruded into his private quarters. “Shit,” was all I could mutter under my breath.

Maybe too hurriedly, I tried to cover myself, the vague sense of modesty permeating my stunned mind.

I would endure anything from scowl to harsh words, reprimands even – I expected any of that, silently willing my miserable existence to be as small as possible. Yet what in the Galaxy could prepare me for him, still underdressed, approaching me with a spare blanket in his hands? Nothing really. I almost sobbed. Almost. I could not help it; not dropping my sight, I watched him as he kneeled beside the chaise lounge and wrapped the blanket around my shoulders clumsily.

“I should be going,” I mumbled, for my voice long since cracked – as did my psyche under the overwhelming weight of that single moment when the soft blanket touched my skin with all gentleness mustered by this usually stern man. He then set a first aid kit on the sofa, and began inspecting my split lip, then my left ear. “I’m sorry, General,” I whispered.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He placed a finger under my chin and gently made me turn my head. “Who did that?” he asked, ghosting over fresh bruises that were visible to him.

“I… I cannot… remember,” I croaked, shifting uncomfortably. My voice seemed alien. It was raspy, my throat dry.

And he frowned, applying bacta gel gently on gashes adorning my left half of face and collarbone, extending to my shoulder even. An expression of concern tarnished the previous aloofness written over his face.

“It seems that I cannot control it anymore,” I muttered absent-mindedly while letting him inspect other scratches and newly forming bruises. “If I may speak freely, sir, you should consider my reassignment.”

“Denied, officer.”

“I shall hand you my resignation then,” I was staring at him in unbelief.

“Which I shall not accept, either.”

I dared to stop his caressing hand by gripping his arm lightly. “Why, sir?”

“Because, quite frankly, I must admit that I’d miss Millicent.”

I gaped at the General, dumbstruck. “Milli-what?”

“You really don’t remember, do you?” he smirked now. “And I’d say you always rather enjoyed my… ministrations.” He stopped, but seeing incomprehension in my eyes, he calmly continued, “Isn’t it odd that every time you appear in my private quarters, certain ginger fur ball is missing?”

“But –”

“Don’t interrupt me, officer. First, the cat appeared shortly after your transfer to the Finalizer. Second, because I deem it only necessary to know my subordinates’ personal files closely, rather intimately I’d say, I know of your origin and characteristic traits coming from those roots. Hence I’m also aware about your rare condition,” the man finished, “although I have to say that I couldn’t be sure it would manifest at some point since your heritage may not be pure.”

I gasped, then frowned. “I can assure you that I am not a halfbreed, sir. Yet I can barely control it. And since I’m not on a planet with specific cycle, it happens irregularly, with random pattern.” Its unpredictability bothered me most.

Hux only nodded, resuming the inspection and treatment of my superficial injuries in silence. “Security feed may be considered quite telling regarding your nocturnal activities,” he started again when he finished.

I felt the instant rush of blood into my cheeks. “Then you know what happened last night,” I muttered, lowering my eyes in shame.

“And it may happen again, though, should you not be more careful the next time.”

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