Please have mercy

Precious

It had been uncomfortable to sit for the next few days, the three visible purple welts in straight lines on her ass made her wince every time she sat on a hard surface, shutting her eyes until the pain eased away. But she had to sit, she had to work, she had asked for it, and she was glad that it was still given.

Slowly, details of the empire made more sense, although her position was merely decorative and symbolic, signing documents and sending letters already written by another officer by message – via computer systems she barely understood – with her scrawled curved acknowledgment at the bottom, the First Order insignia stamped at the center top.

It was not fun, per se, it was actually pretty dull, but the formal obligations kept her mind busy and gave her an excuse to do some proper work, making her feel important in the slightest of ways.

As she sat in the empty room, one she had transformed into her office, at the very top of the ship where few people ever frequented, she couldn't keep from imagining children running around, disturbing her as she worked or asking to play, as kids often did at the temple.

It was something she had not allowed herself to dwell upon. She wasn't exactly sure how he was planning to go about with it, if he would let her see them and be with them as much as he was, or if she'd be kept separated in fear that she would contaminate them with her thoughts of priesthood and peace.

The idea of him being a father perturbed her as well. He wasn't exactly the kindest of souls, he could be quite rough at times – most times – but she knew that he'd care once he had a child of his own. He was already overbearingly protective of her, a stranger he had been forced to marry, she couldn't imagine how he'd be with a baby.

He'd want to teach them what he had learned, perhaps, in the exact way he liked to do it, practicing sword fighting together, explaining politics and war using easy words and metaphors. Take them flying out in space until they were old enough to have their own aircraft, she'd have to make sure that he was grown and capable of thinking before letting them take off alone, knowing that he'd get too prideful to see their child succeed to think about the possible dangers.

He would be the optimist for once.

She did not care much about the gender, either way, they'd be loved and cared for like a royal little baby, they'd get everything from all the clothes and fancy technology kids used to play with. Even if he probably wouldn't have let her, she didn't think she'd want to impose her religious ways on her child, that way of life clashed too much with their foreseeable future, it would be better if she kept it for herself.

Yet, she'd like to teach them how to meditate, to know that they'd learn something from her as well, something rare amongst the fighters in the Order. She'd like for them to travel, to meet many great people and share stories around small fires in the desert deep into the night, see stars and watch the moons fall to set place for the suns. Experience it fully, dream as much as they wanted, be free from everything.

She could picture him trying to calm his child from crying, the thought made her smile, assuming he'd be distant at first, not sure of how to treat such a small human, but he'd warm up to it eventually when the kid would get old enough to recognize him as a father. They'd ask him how he had met her, and she'd get to hear his side of the story.

She could almost see it, holding a baby in her arms while singing old lullabies with him by her side humming to the familiar tune, without the mask, the gloves, the armor, the desire to hurt her.

A sight too soft, too far from the truth, too unrealistic, practically happy, perfectly ideal. Her expectations had been destroyed once she had gotten aboard the ship, she had to prepare for another letdown and take a rational position on life that waited ahead.