((I started writing this at 2 in the morning. Not sure why. It probably seemed like a good idea at the time. It's probably terrible but maybe it's not harm for Hux to be put in his place every now and then. M rating, smut later. Enjoy! Or don't, I don't mind. ))

"What the hell is going on?!" She barked at the staff, her accent mostly Coruscantesque but with a vicious twist. She wasn't usually this irritable; in fact it had been a long time since she was this angry.

"They… They just touched down, madam. They gave no warning, no transmissions, nothing." One of her braver staff chimed in nervously; uncertain of the reception such information would receive. Merely a frustrated shriek. "What do you want us to do, madam? We… We can't refuse them…."

"Do what they ask." She advised them, the aggression still fresh in her tone. "I will deal with him myself." How or where she was going to do this, she didn't know but she could only assume he'd come in the front door. She'd attack him from there.

Kendra had always been undeniably pretty. As she got older, she became beautiful and striking. Bright blue eyes, raven locks and somewhat sallow skin, she was something to behold; all wrapped up in a light, flowy light green dress. To reflect the incoming summer weather due to them (not that would be much). But she was wasted in an arranged marriage, a forced marriage.

"He's supposed to be dead!" Kendra seethed to herself, unable to believe that this had been robbed from her. That that weasel had managed to survive. Maybe she shouldn't have been surprised; he was quite exceptional where danger was concerned. But still, she'd hoped she'd made an escape. It seemed the only one to escape was him. Years she'd been trapped and when she heard about the explosion, she had wrongly assumed she was free to make what she wanted with the rest of her life as a widow. It was not to be.

She waited, her irritation growing into full blown monstrous anger with every passing second. Did she even remember what he looked like? She had a vague idea and would recognize him but she couldn't remember the finer details of his face. How long had it been? A year? Two? Then she realized: She didn't care. He shouldn't have been coming back at all. Kendra decided to watch from the shadows of the landing overlooking the entrance hall.

She could assess the situation from a careful distance and proceed from there. Needless to say, he was bigger and stronger than her; he could overpower her in a second. The stressed groaning of the front doors being pushed open dragged her from her train of thought and she looked down over the banister. There he was. Unharmed. A chrome Stormtrooper carried a black, mangled mess which she assumed to be Kylo Ren while he sauntered in behind them, looking around to see the changes she had made in his absence. The answer was maximum and he hated it.

"You're supposed to be dead." Came the venom he knew so well from above. He saw that beautiful, disdained face looking down on him from the banister and felt a lick of satisfaction at her obvious disappointment.

"It's wonderful to see you too, Kendra."

"What did I do to deserve this?!" She barked in annoyance as she started to stride along the landing towards the stairs to find him waiting for her at the bottom of it. Yes, she couldn't mistake that face now. Pale and pasty, those cruel icy blue eyes and that red hair that he always had perfectly in place. That son of a bitch, she hated him. He was the reason for the way she was, she knew it.

"How hard is it to die, Brendol?! Honestly, you can't even do that right!" The General had to laugh though it was cold and ruthless with a smirk to match.

"I do it purely to get under your skin, my darling."

"I'm starting to believe so. And call me that again and we're going to have problems!" She was only a few steps away from him now but with her tiny stature against his significantly larger one; they were more or less face to face. She wasn't a typical military wife. He knew that from the start. She wasn't submissive or meek and controllable. She was a hurricane. She was essentially a wild animal in a high born woman's clothing.

How he'd gotten to marry her in the first place, he didn't know. How he'd made it through the wedding night alive, he still didn't know. He'd been convinced there was a knife under her pillow during their consummation and it was the only time she'd allowed him to touch her. He was fine with that. He was expected back on the Finalizer a few days after the wedding where he could focus and be far away from her foul temper.

"Find a room for Ren, get a medic up there." He instructed one of Kendra's staff who scurried to the assignment, leading Phasma up the stairs past them with Kylo Ren still in her arms. Hux turned back to his wife. It was expected of him to marry. It looked good for a military man to have grounding in his personal life; a beautiful wife was the first step. Sons were the next step but he doubted that would happen. Although Kendra was of Republican stock, her father had been a First Order sympathizer.

He donated plenty of money, weapons, advice and information as a dowry and all had been useful. Upon seeing Kendra for the first time, he had been intrigued and so agreed to the arrangement. Then he actually met her and regretted the decision but there was no backing out. They'd despised each other ever since. Still, he could always brag about the stunning wife he kept back at a villa on Arkanis, not far from the Academy.

Often, he found her ungrateful. Spoiled. Bratty. Or maybe she was just that way to punish him, he didn't know.

"I think your forget who pays for everything, Kendra." He reminded her, his voice carrying as she started back up the stairs with disgust written across her face. "Your clothes, your staff, and all these vile changes you make when I'm not around?"

"Oh, I don't know, my dowry maybe?" She replied without missing a beat and turning on her heel to face him again. "I know exactly what he gave you, Brendol. I'm not a fool." He sometimes forgot she was more intelligent than he gave her credit for. Before he realized it, she was walking away from him again.

"Kendra!"

"If you'll excuse me, I have other less painful things to do than stand here talking to you." The female responded casually, hips swaying as she continued back up the steps. She had nothing else to do. She just didn't want to be in his presence any longer.

"Kendra! Get back here!" Irked now, Brendol knew he was at a loose end. Starkiller was gone, all he could do was wait and lie low until Ren was healed. That meant staying here. But he'd be damned if he lived under her rule. She'd be tyrannical. Every day would be a power struggle. He might have paid the staff but they lived with her, respected her. She caught him off guard when she stopped on the next landing and looked down at him with an annoyed, curled lip. "

What. Is. It. Now?!" He shouldn't have had this much toil with his wife. Why couldn't he have been given someone docile?! Why this psychopath?!

"We have a lot to discuss, Kendra. You'll be dining with me tonight."

"Will I?" It was spat with something of a sarcastic surprise. "You think you're going to walk in here after who knows how long and order ME around?! Did the Finalizer warp your brain, Brendol? Or Starkiller? Because THAT is not happening!" He remembered why he couldn't wait to get away from her. She infuriated him. She took his carefully ordered military persona, the discipline and decimated it. With her around, he could barely contain himself; she questioned everything, those vicious little asides and the sniping insults.

"I'll be sending someone for you in an hour! Make sure you change!"

"I'M NOT CHANGING!"