Bonded Chapter 20: Throne
My submission for the @two-halves-of-reylo weekly challenge (Week 20: Thirst). This week’s theme came just in time for a first kiss! If you want to catch up on previous chapters, check out the previous ones on AO3. Thanks for reading!
The throne room is dead quiet. Eerily quiet.
Kylo Ren sits back in his seat, his forearms resting lightly on either side of him, his fingers curled over the edge of the throne, his feet firmly planted below.
He waits impatiently, resisting the urge to sigh inside his mask.
Instead, he coolly observes his surroundings, the red walls reflecting on the shiny surface of the floor, the long walkway stretching out ahead, the oculus to the left. The room is almost an exact replica of Snoke’s on Supremacy I, the one he so frequently visited as a supplicant.
But here, he is the sovereign.
He never gets tired of looking at the room from this perspective. Being in this seat, this position… It feels so right, so satisfying. He was born to sit in this chair.
But the truth is, he doesn’t spend much time here. He’d go insane if he stayed in this room all day. He prefers to keep moving, to keep the generals and captains on their toes with the constant threat of his appearance. He finds things get done a lot more efficiently if he makes a point to regularly show up unannounced— to meetings, to inspections, to training exercises.
He always comes here a few times a week, though. More for symbolic reasons than anything else. This room represents his power, his authority, his unquestionable supremacy. It matters that people see him here.
Especially certain people.
As if on cue, the door at the other end of the room opens and General Hux strides through with his hands clasped behind his back. He walks steadily forward, that signature pompous expression coming into view as he does. His nose is turned up so high that Kylo can practically see inside his nostrils.
He halts just a few feet in front of the throne.
Then he just stands there. Not for long, only for a second or two, but long enough for Kylo to feel his blood begin boil in his veins. He clinches his fists.
Finally, Hux kneels, resting one arm on his knee and bowing his head deeply. The gesture appears genuine, but Kylo can sense his resentment, that abrasive grind, rubbing his insides raw. He looks down at the man for a minute, a long minute, giving him some much-needed time on the floor, a reminder of his position.
“General.” He finally speaks through the distortion of his mask. Hux rises slowly, his jaw visibly tightened.
Kylo rolls his eyes. It’s been nearly a year and the man still can’t manage to utter those words to him without a mocking undertone…
He clenches his fists again, staring wordlessly down at that smug, white face. A few seconds pass.
“Don’t waste my time, General,” Kylo barks suddenly, and Hux jumps a bit. “I assume you have a reason for requesting this meeting beyond the pleasure of my company.” For the briefest instant, the general’s face twists into a sneer of disgust, but he banishes the look quickly, turning his nose back up to the air.
“Of course,” he says flatly. “I wanted to speak to you about the Outer Rim invasions.”
“What about them?” Kylo asks impatiently.
“They’re going quite well, aren’t they?” He tilts his head with a smirk. “The Minos Cluster. Salient. Bonadan. And soon Felucia. All firmly under our control. All within the past month. That’s much more quickly than our initial estimates.” He juts his chin up in pride, as though he were personally responsible for this success. Kylo grips the edges of the throne.
“General.” His voice is clipped, irritated. “Tell me you didn’t come here to inform me of what I already know.” Hux’s eyes flit upwards in annoyance, then lower, icy blue and cutting with disdain.
“No.” He articulates the word curtly. “I came here to point out that we could be doing more. Obviously, clearing out this Outer Rim rabble is easier than we expected. So why only invade two systems at a time? We have the resources, the manpower.” He steps forward with a little fire in his voice, unclasping his hands from behind his back. “We could be invading ten systems.”
“We could,” Kylo responds matter-of-factly. “But we’re not.”
Hux bristles at the curtness of this response, jerking his head back and blinking a couple of times.
“Why?” He blusters. “What possible reason could we have for not utilizing the full extent of our martial capabilities?” Kylo begins shaking his head before the general finishes speaking.
“So, you still haven’t learned your lesson.” He sits back on the throne, his masked face bearing down on the general coldly. “How disappointing.”
Hux grits his teeth in response, but says nothing.
“You still think about everything as though warfare were our only concern,” Kylo continues. “To you, we’re always at war.”
“But we are at war!” The general growls, his face growing red as he takes another step forward.
“No, we’re not.” Kylo’s voice is still detached, neutral. “We’re helping the governments of Outer Rim systems reestablish the rule of law. It’s not war. It’s military aid.” Hux immediately scoffs, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and shaking his head in disbelief. After a moment, he looks back down with a snide expression.
“Whatever you want to call it, Supreme Leader. Military aid. A martial engagement. Clearing out the garbage.” His lips twist into a sneer. “The fact is that we’re not operating at full capacity. Why drag out these invasions over the course of a year when we could finish them in less than three mon—”
“The fact,” Kylo cuts him off abruptly, “that the answer to that question isn’t obvious to you is the reason you still haven’t recovered your demerits since Garos.” At this, Hux immediately sucks in a breath, a blast of rage surging through him. “You are a short-sighted fool who sees nothing beyond your own nose.” Kylo Ren points an index finger at the general, leaning forward in his throne. “You still make decisions as though the First Order were fighting for control over the galaxy. But that war has already been won. Now we have to rule it. And ruling is not the same as warmongering.”
“No, you don’t,” Kylo cuts off the general again. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be here whining about the rate of invasion. You would know that though we could pick up our pace, we shouldn’t because the campaigns would be less efficient and more likely to cause an uproar throughout the galaxy.” He cocks his head, bearing down on the general for a moment, before sitting back in his chair again. “We must maintain control,” he continues, “and to do that, we need compliant and loyal systems, not systems terrified that they’re next in a chaotic cluster of invasions that will have disastrous effects on their local economies.” At this, the general scoffs again, that sneer returning to his lips.
“Always so concerned with public opinion, aren’t you?” He spits out the question, his nostrils flaring. “It’s enough to make one wonder why we even bothered to destroy the New Republic. What was the point if we govern as they did, letting the cares of little people guide our decisions? If Snoke could see us now, he would roll over—”
Suddenly, Hux croaks, his hands flying up to his neck. He desperately fights for air, grasping at his collar. Long seconds pass without precious oxygen, and his face grows into an increasingly deeper shade of red, so red his head looks on the verge of exploding all over the throne room floor.
Finally, Kylo releases his invisible grip and the general falls to the ground, taking a giant gulp of air into his starving lungs. Kylo sits casually in his throne, observing Hux on his hands and knees before him, gasping and wheezing on the floor.
“One of these days,” the Supreme Leader begins dispassionately, “you’re going to learn that little people are dangerous. Individually, they’re nothing. But together? They’re the Rebellion that destroyed the Empire. And if we’re not careful, they’ll be the Resistance that destroys us.”
Hux looks up from the floor, his face twisted into a look of disgust and resentment. He begins to rise, opening his lips to speak, but Kylo cuts him of.
“Get out.” He commands tersely.
The general clenches his fists and straightens, his face tensing in defiance. He begins to speak again, but before he can get a word out, Kylo casts him across the throne room with one smooth flick of his right hand. Hux lands just in front of the walkway, skidding halfway across its smooth, shiny surface towards the exit.
“Make me repeat myself, and I’ll demote you.” Kylo’s distorted voice resonates, filling the empty expanse of the room.
Hux picks himself off the floor once more and immediately charges down the walkway, his shoulders visibly hunched into his ears. Kylo can practically hear him seething, still feel the resentment inside him like bits of glass grinding in his gut. Once he reaches the door, it whirs open and his black clad form disappears.
The moment the door closes, Kylo shoots up from the throne, grabbing his master comm at his side and walking a few paces forward.
“Cancel the rest of my appointments,” he commands at a growl.
“All of them sir?” A response crackles through almost immediately. Kylo sucks in an angry breath.
“If anyone else walks into this room today, they’re not walking out,” He warns through gritted teeth. He doesn’t bother to wait for a response, turning off the comm and returning it to his belt. He clenches his fists, walking forward a few more steps before abruptly reaching up to unclick his mask, pull it overhead, and chuck it violently across the room.
He whips around, not even seeing where it lands. He begins manically pacing the area just in front of the throne, bringing a hand up to rub his jaw as his mind races with furious anxiety.
He wouldn’t give a damn about all his pissing and moaning if it weren’t for his sway over the other generals. But the unfortunate reality is that while half of them hate his guts the other half would follow him into an asteroid field. He’ll grouse about all of his idiot ideas being ignored and the others will actually listen.
Kylo can’t have that. He can’t have his generals at war with one another. And he certainly can’t have Hux undercutting his authority at every turn.
But he can’t get rid of the man either. Not yet, anyways. He’s too integral to this organization, too revered as the strong arm of the First Order. Too many people are loyal to him, would perhaps even leave with him if he were to be dismissed.
No, Hux must be managed, not discarded. But how?
Scaling down his authority hasn’t worked. The demerits haven’t worked. In fact, he’s gotten worse. He’s openly challenging his decisions in meetings. If he doesn’t get his way, he makes sure every leader worth a damn in this organization knows about it. And even though his authority was reduced after Garos, he worms his way around it through the generals who are loyal to him. They do his bidding, practically without question, as though he were Supreme Leader.
Kylo growls as he pushes out an exhale, still manically pacing back and forth in front of the throne.
Hux is progressively driving him into insanity.
He just wants to take that man’s throat, just reach out to grip him with his actual hand, and squeeze, squeeze until his eyes pop out of his sockets and his face—
Suddenly, Kylo stops cold, his violent fantasy halting abruptly.
By a familiar feeling rising in his core.
At first, he’s caught off guard, his chest seizing at the unexpected interruption.
But after moment, he bows his head and closes his eyes, clasping his hands behind his back and focusing on that feeling, that warmth gradually welling from within. As he does, his rage abates, like boiling water removed from heat. The more her presence draws nearer, the more he feels himself become reset, his mind reverting to a calm, even base.
Finally, he feels her materialize a few paces to his left. He takes a deep breath, in and out, then opens his eyes and turns his head towards her.
Rey stands gaping at the surroundings, her emotions darkening into a heavy, sinking feeling.
At first, Kylo’s confused.
Is it him? Is she upset with him? Why would she be?
But then the realization hits.
It’s the room. And the memory associated with it.
She looks up and around solemnly, taking in the scene as though she never expected in a million years to be here again. He feels her wrestle inwardly with a complex storm of emotions, so many he can’t identify all of them— there’s some anger. Disappointment. Also longing. Sadness.
Finally, she turns towards him, her eyes meeting his, lingering for a moment before drifting to the throne behind him. She scans the back of the room, her eyebrows knitting as she does.
“No Praetorian guard?” She looks over at him.
“I don’t need one,” he answers matter-of-factly. She doesn’t react to this, instead crossing her arms and turning to walk towards the oculus. He regards her as she does, noticing the difference in himself, in the atmosphere, with her here.
It’s strange to be with her in this room again. It feels dissonant yet familiar at the same time.
Perhaps that’s because he imagines being here with her so often. Almost every night, he sees that moment in his mind, the image burned into his memory, her looking up at him with those clear brown eyes, her tear-stained cheeks… except in his version, she always takes his hand. Then he draws her in closer to him, never taking his eyes off her—
“You don’t spend much time in here, do you?” Rey interrupts his thoughts, her back to him as she examines the oculus.
“Not really,” he answers frankly, walking towards her. He stops just a couple of feet away.
“So, why are you here now?” She tightens her arms around her body, tensing subtly as she turns to face him. Kylo doesn’t immediately answer, instead studying her closely.
Something’s… off with her. She feels more guarded than usual. Maybe it’s the throne room? Being here again. He looks down at her silently for a few more moments, trying to read her. But she feels closed, armored against entry.
“I make it a point to meet certain people in here,” he answers finally.
“Like who?” She breaks eye contact, stepping around him to walk away. It’s almost as if she’s uncomfortable standing so close to him…
He turns slowly, eyeing her with suspicion.
“Like General Hux,” he replies, staying right where he is, watching her walk several steps further.
“He’s not giving you more trouble, is he?” She asks casually with her back still to him, slowing her pace, appearing to observe the room again. Kylo grunts.
“Hux is always trouble,” he says wearily.
“What is it this time?” Rey turns to face him, her arms still crossed, looking up at him with a kind of detached interest. He narrows his eyes, still trying to read her. She looks relaxed but she feels on edge, nervous even. He cocks his head, examining her curiously.
“He wants to speed up the rate of Outer Rim invasions,” he informs her, taking a step forward. She immediately takes a step back even though there’s quite a few paces between them.
What is wrong with her? Surely, it’s not just being in this room with him again. He continues to examine her closely, growing increasingly curious. He twitches his jaw, considering what might be behind this…
“And what did you say?” She asks, turning to the side and beginning to walk slowly towards the throne. He clasps his hands behind his back and steps towards the throne as well, exactly parallel across from her.
“I told him no,” he says decisively, his Force-senses heightened, attuned to her inner rhythm, that strange guardedness emanating from her.
“And I take it he didn’t like your answer.” She continues walking forward with measured steps.
“No, he did not.” Kylo suddenly stops and turns to face her. She does the same, arms still crossed. They stare at one another with what seems to him like an unnecessary cavern of space between them.
“What would you have told him?” He nods towards her. She immediately uncrosses her arms and raises an eyebrow, surprised by the question. She looks off thoughtfully, considering her answer, some of that guardedness abating as she does.
“I would have said the same thing,” she announces definitively with a few nods of her head.
“Why?” Kylo asks, turning his chin up a bit, genuinely interested in her rationale. He resists the urge to step towards her, instead standing with his hands still clasped loosely behind his back.
“Because…” she begins deliberately, choosing her words with care, “If you speed up the invasions, they’ll be less efficient and there will be more margin for error. In fact…” her voice trails off for a moment. “You may be going too quickly as it is.” At this, his head jerks back and he unclasps his hands from behind him.
“What do you mean?” He asks, crossing his arms, wary but intrigued. Rey takes a breath and crosses her arms again, taking a cautious step towards him.
“I mean,” she starts hesitantly, “it would be better if you slowed down enough to exercise some discretion.”
“Discretion?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Well,” she draws out the word, looking down. She pauses for several seconds, then finally looks back up. “Take what you did in the Minos Cluster, for example. Now, I’m not saying you didn’t do a good thing,” she assures him hastily. “Taking down Riker Vos and his whole organization…” Her voice trails off, her eyes growing soft. “That was wonderful,” she commends him. “They were truly evil. The Minos Cluster, the entire galaxy is safer now without them.” He feels himself grow warm inside as Rey looks up at him with admiration. But the warmth subsides when he sees clouds gathering in her eyes.
“But…” He articulates the word expectantly, taking a measured step towards her. Rey looks down again, her shoulders visibly dropping.
“But,” she continues in a low voice. “You began the invasion with a series of aerial assaults, destroying all of the gang’s major bases of operation in one fell swoop.”
“So?” He shrugs his shoulders, confused by what she finds problematic about this.
“When you did that…” Rey still looks down, her emotions deepening into a strong wave of compassion. “You didn’t just kill all of Vos’s men.” She looks up with solemn eyes. “You killed all of his slaves too.” He immediately lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes drifting up to the ceiling.
“Those were innocent people.” He hears Rey take several steps towards him. He looks down to find her only a few feet away now, staring up at him intently, entreatingly. “They didn’t deserve to die. It wasn’t even their choice to be there.”
“I know that,” he answers in a clipped tone, trying to conceal irritation. “But innocent people always die in war, Rey,” he tells her dismissively. “That’s just the nature of it.”
“But they don’t have to!” Rey protests, stepping towards him again, eyes wide with passion. “Whether or not more or less innocent people die in a war is up to those in charge, the decisions that they make. Decisions like whether to blast everyone to bits indiscriminately in an aerial assault or go in with ground forces first and target selectively.” Kylo can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes and turning away from her as she finishes. He takes several steps towards the throne, jaw hardened, looking down. He stares at the floor for a minute, deep in thought.
How can he get her to understand the position he’s in? The things he must consider in these situations?
He ponders these questions for a moment before his head snaps up, a memory suddenly coming to mind. He turns back around towards Rey.
“Do you ever have an occasion to speak to my mother?” He asks abruptly. Her eyebrows instantly shoot up in surprise.
“Uh… y-yes,” she stutters in response. “Sometimes.” She gazes up at him with intense curiosity, shocked that he would even bring up the subject.
“The next time you see her,” he continues wryly, “ask her about the Sallow Men.” She narrows her eyes at him.
“And what will she tell me?” She asks warily.
“The truth, I hope,” he answers, gazing at her evenly.
“And what’s that?” She tilts her head. Kylo purses his lips and looks down.
“When I was a boy and she was a senator,” he starts in a self-assured tone, stepping towards her, “the Sallow Men were one of the worst criminal organizations in the galaxy. They were slavers, ran half the black markets in the Outer Rim, gave the New Republic all kinds of trouble. So, finally, the Senate decided to create a military alliance against them. I was on the Senate floor when they were debating about how to begin the attack.” Rey observes him with intense interest as he speaks, completely engaged.
“They argued about the very thing you brought up just a minute ago,” he continues, stepping towards her again. “Should they take out all the major bases at once and kill everyone inside, including the slaves, or should they go in with ground forces and try to spare them?” He stops just a foot in front of her, and she looks up at him, eager for him to finish.
“So?” She raises an eyebrow. “What did the Senate decide?” He looks down at her coolly for a moment.
“They decided to go in with ground forces first,” he informs her. “And do you know what happened?” She shakes her head. He waits a few seconds, then leans down, bringing his face a little closer to hers.
“The Sallow Men used the slaves as human shields,” he reveals darkly, and her eyes immediately widen in absolute horror. “They forced them to create a perimeter around the bases. By the end of it all, not only did most of the slaves die but considerably more alliance forces died with them.”
Rey looks up at him in utter shock, deeply shaken by this. For a few seconds, she just gapes, horrified. Then she looks away, eyebrows furrowed, desperately trying to process through her emotions, the facts of the story, the implications of it.
He straightens, observing her as she processes. At first, she churns with uncertainty and doubt. But after a minute, he feels her harden with resolve. She looks back up at him with a piercing gaze.
“And if I asked you mother for another example,” she challenges, “another time when a similar strategy was used and it saved lives, would she be able to give me one? More than one?” She raises an expectant eyebrow. Kylo holds in a heavy sigh and shakes his head, but doesn’t answer her. Instead, he turns and starts walking towards the throne again.
“You know...” He hears Rey follow behind him. “I’m sure that to you, the lives of slaves are nothing. They’re just the little people. But even so-called little people matter, Ben.” At this, he halts abruptly. She continues walking, circling around to plant herself in front of him, fixing her eyes firmly on his.
“Do you have any idea how many slaves there are in the galaxy?” She asks pointedly. He doesn’t respond. “Millions,” she intones. “Millions and growing, at an alarming rate, actually. That’s a lot of people, Ben.” Her voice darkens with warning. “A lot. Much more than any Rebellion or any Resistance. Maybe you shouldn’t be so careless with their lives. Because one day, they might just notice. And then, well…” She cocks her head sharply, raising a knowing eyebrow.
It takes Kylo a few seconds, but eventually the heavy weight of realization, what she’s implying, descends upon him. When it hits, he immediately steps around Rey, approaching the throne, bringing a hand up to rub his jaw, suddenly deep in thought.
Now that’s an outcome he’s never considered before. In all the time he’s spent imagining different scenarios, different possible obstacles in consolidating power throughout the galaxy, he never once considered the idea of a slave uprising.
But is it even conceivable? How could such a scattered lot ever hope to become organized? Surely that kind of large-scale effort would be unlikely. Surely…
Kylo stares down absently, storming with thought. Without really thinking about it, he turns around and sits down on the throne, leaning over to rest his forearms on his knees.
He looks up briefly when Rey moves towards him, taking a seat on a step nearby.
Kylo glances over at her, deliberating in his mind…
Maybe she’s right. Maybe they should start some of the invasions with ground forces. Some of them. Reserve it for gangs like the Merdos Syndicate? Ones with a particularly nasty reputation. It will certainly give credence to their claim that these invasions are helping the local populations…
But it will drag out the length of the assault significantly. It will take twice, maybe three times as long. And they’ll lose more of their own forces.
He sighs and brings a palm to his eyes.
And if he chooses to go this way, Hux will most definitely use it to stir up more trouble. That alone is enough to make him reconsider…
He wipes his hand over his face, resting his back on the throne behind him. He sighs again, shaking his head.
Every now and then, he’d love nothing more than to forget about all of this, forget about being Supreme Leader, forget about obsessively planning for every possible obstacle that lies ahead. He needs a distraction, just a few measly minutes where his mind is occupied by something, anything, else…
He closes his eyes for a moment.
Then suddenly, he opens them again, sitting up and turning his head slowly to Rey sitting not far. She’s staring down at the floor, seeming lost in thought.
“So, what about you?” He asks abruptly. She immediately sits up, a bit startled, and looks over at him, eyebrows knitting in confusion.
“What were you thinking about just before the bond happened this time?” Her eyes instantly widen and she looks back down, a pang of fear seizing her chest. Kylo tilts his head, studying her, intrigued by this reaction.
“Is that not what we’re doing here?” He shrugs, black eyes fixed on hers. “I just assumed that’s why you were asking me about why I was here today.” He gestures flippantly at the room. Rey shakes her head violently, still looking down.
“No.” Her answer is strangely emphatic. “That’s not what I was doing. I was just… curious.” She starts rubbing her right thumb and index finger together anxiously. He narrows his eyes.
“It was your idea, you know,” he reminds her wryly. “You’re the one who said we should start sharing what we were thinking of just before the bond happens.” Rey immediately shoots up to her feet and walks away.
“Well, it was a stupid idea,” she snipes at him, crossing her arms, sulking with her back to him. He feels her grow intensely guarded again, armored, like when she first arrived.
Now Kylo’s very intrigued.
His jaw slides to the side as he studies her, a suspicion brewing in his mind. He rises slowly from the throne, never taking his eyes off Rey, and moves towards her cautiously. She visibly tenses at his approach.
“I’m not sure it was,” he tells her. “The more we learn about the trigger, the closer we get to controlling it.”
“We can’t control it,” Rey snaps at him, twitching her shoulder, clearly irritated. She turns and starts heading towards the oculus, seeming to want some space between them.
“You don’t know that,” he insists. “It certainly doesn’t hurt to try. And you’re the one who’s always searching for the bond’s purpose. You don’t think this will help you discover it?” Rey slows as she lets out a low groan, hunching her shoulders into her ears. She stops and rolls her head back, turning her face up to the ceiling, exasperated. He pauses just a few feet behind her.
“Come on, Rey,” he goads her. “It’s not that hard. Just tell me.” She twitches in irritation again. Suddenly, she whips around with a caustic glare.
“You know, you didn’t exactly tell me what you were thinking about before bond,” she accuses, jutting her chin up.
“What do you mean?” He shakes his head in irritation. “The Outer Rim invasions. Hux wanting to speed them up like an idiot.”
“And that’s all?” She raises an eyebrow in doubt. He stares back at her evenly for a few seconds. Finally, he looks away.
“And… the fact that I can’t seem to keep Hux under control,” he admits quietly. Kylo tenses inwardly, hating the sound of those words uttered out loud.
“Well, fancy that.” Rey grunts softly. He looks up to find her eying him, amused. “You’ve finally found something beyond your control.” A subtle smile teases her lips. He rolls his eyes.
“Fine,” he says dryly, crossing his arms. “Now you know what I was thinking about. Your turn.” She immediately stiffens and turns her back to him. She feels rushed, frenzied, like she’s desperately searching her mind for what to say.
“I was thinking…” She lets her voice trail off, tensing. “I was thinking about when I healed you in the training room. I was wondering…” She pauses, twitching her shoulder. “I was wondering if I could do it again on someone else.”
Kylo stares at Rey, gaping.
He doesn’t need the bond, hell he doesn’t even need to be Force-sensitive, to know that was a lie. He shakes his head briskly, trying to recover from the shock of it, from the fact that she of all people would tell a bold-faced lie. And considering what it was regarding, he is now madly curious to know the truth.
He observes her incredulously for a few moments, then looks down, considering how to approach this, what to say next. After some thought, he moves towards her, stopping just at her back. She’s still visibly tensing.
“Rey.” He draws out her name. “Are you sure?” His tone is knowing, as though the answer is obvious. She immediately scoffs and whips around to face him.
“What? Do you think I’m lying to you?” She protests, looking up at him snidely, barely concealing a flash of alarm.
“That’s exactly what I think,” he states confidently, staring down at her. Her eyes widen for a moment but she soon resumes her cutting glare, her face hardening in defiance.
“Well, you’re wrong,” she spits at him, then abruptly turns a heel, walking towards the oculus again.
“I hate to tell you this, Rey.” She slows at the sound of his voice. “But you are not a good liar. Add that to the fact that I’m Force sensitive and we’re bonded…” He grunts and shakes his head. “You can deny it all you want, but I know you’re lying.” She halts outright, dropping her shoulders. He stands where he is, unmoving, just observing, curious to see how she’ll respond to this.
She sighs heavily, her head bowed and her arms crossed. She shifts awkwardly a bit, the manifestation of an inner war… to deny or give in? Finally, she drops her arms at her sides.
“It’s just…” she begins, growing nervous, suddenly feeling very exposed. “It’s not something easily put into words. I’m not even sure I can put it into words. So, I just… said something else instead.” He regards her softly for a moment, sensing her vulnerability, a tender spot.
“Ok,” he says quietly, uncrossing his arms. He takes a careful step forward. “Would it be easier to show me?” She turns towards him, her eyebrows knitted in confusion, but she immediately registers his meaning when she sees his face.
“Oh, no.” She scoffs, bristling at the very idea of his suggestion. “Definitely not.” He tilts his head.
“Seems like a perfectly good alternative to me.” He squints at her, half in challenge, half in suspicion.
“No. Not happening,” she decides with a definitive shake of the head before stepping to the side and brushing past him. He pushes out an exhale, annoyed at how quickly she dismisses this idea. How does he get her to reconsider...?
Then, suddenly, it hits him. Something he’d forgotten about. But now is the perfect time to remember.
He turns around slyly as Rey continues to walk away.
“I’m calling in my favor,” he announces abruptly. She halts and twists to face him, confused.
“What favor?” She demands.
“Remember the conditions you agreed to? When I let you into my mind to see…” his voice trails off, and he gulps, fighting the sudden tightness in his throat. Rey’s eyes immediately widen in recognition. They drop to the floor a moment later when she realizes what this means, the favor he’s asking for. She grows uneasy, furrowing her eyebrows and continuing to look down, seeming to search for way out of this.
“But—” She starts and immediately stops, not knowing where to go.
“But what?” He probes. “It’s not comparable?” He raises an eyebrow. She glances up with flash of exasperation, her lips straightening into a thin line. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but still has nothing to say. She looks down again, pulling her arms more tightly around herself.
“It’s perfectly comparable,” he begins casually, stepping towards her. “You have something, something that was on your mind when the bond brought us together, that you can’t articulate out loud. So, you let me inside your head. It’s the exact same situation, just reversed.” Her shoulders seem to progressively sink as he approaches, weighed down by the miserable acceptance that he’s right. “Perfectly comparable,” he repeats, stopping just a foot in front of her.
She’s stiff, hunching and drawing herself in, trying to make herself small, as if she could somehow become small enough to disappear into thin air.
“Come on, Rey,” he goads softly. “All the same conditions apply. I’ll stay on task, it will only be a minute, and we won’t talk about it afterwards.” She sighs heavily, her eyes still fixed on the floor, self-conscious and deeply reluctant. “What was it you told me? All you have to do is stand there and think.” She groans a bit at hearing her own words reflected back at her. She shakes her head and sighs again.
“What do you say?” He asks quietly.
She doesn’t answer him. She just stands, tense and perfectly still. A minute passes in silence and he feels her vulnerability deepen into something else.
She’s scared. Very scared. There’s something about the prospect of doing this that she finds utterly terrifying.
As Rey stares at the floor, holding onto herself for dear life, Kylo feels a strong wave of compassion overtake him.
He is dying to know what she’s hiding from him.
But… he’s not willing to put her through this to find out.
“Rey,” he says gently. He reaches out to rest a hand on her shoulder but the moment he touches her, she immediately jerks back, practically jumping out of her skin. He instantly withdraws his hand and takes a step back from her, confused and not a little hurt by her reaction. She still refuses to look up at him.
“Forget about it,” he says in a low voice, regarding her softly. “If makes you feel like this, then I don’t want to know.” He lingers for a moment, still baffled by her behavior, then turns, churning with a mixture of disappointment, tenderness, and concern.
The throne room is silent except for the click of his boots as he strides away.
He halts at the sound of Rey’s voice behind him. He turns around to see her approaching him swiftly, her face both urgent and resolved.
“Do it,” she repeats, stopping just in front of him. “Get it over with. Come on.” She gestures towards herself with a hand, looking up at him impatiently.
“Are you sure?” He knits his eyebrows, put off by the sudden change.
“Yes I’m sure.” She says the words so quickly, they jumble together. “Just get on with it. Every second you wait, you make it worse. So, come on.” She gestures to herself again, then crosses her arms and squares her shoulders, looking down, preparing herself. She stands, tense and ready, for a few seconds as he looks at her, perplexed, reconsidering whether or not this is a good idea…
“Come on!” She practically shouts this, her head snapping up in exasperation. “What are you waiting for!?”
“Alright, alright,” he answers quickly, struggling to adapt to her sudden urgency. She closes her eyes and looks down again, bracing herself.
He crosses his arms and closes his own eyes, then pushes carefully into her mind.
She immediately stiffens, that nervous, exposed feeling returning in a powerful wave.
But she doesn’t fight him. Instead, she quickly directs him to his destination, the reason why he’s here.
She replays the scene in her mind. The training room. Healing him. The images, the emotions flash by…
It looks so different from her perspective, almost entirely unfamiliar. It’s a strange kind of disassociation, seeing himself through another person’s eyes.
He wishes he could say he enjoys the view.
But no… He’s ashamed by what he sees.
He’s yelling at her, eyes cutting, nostrils flared. He’s bearing down over her, bullying her. Painful jolts of shock and hurt rip through her and he looks pleased with himself, his face twisted into a self-satisfied smirk. Then, there’s the blue of the training room floor followed by darkness.
And her emotions, her thoughts overwhelm him, drawing him so deep that he loses himself in her.
She feels so hurt, so lost. Maybe he’s right? Maybe she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. The Force. The Dark Side. The Light Side. She doesn’t know what it all means. She doesn’t know the history, the practice, the theory. She feels so blind sometimes, like she’s crawling through life on her hands and her knees, reaching out desperately in the darkness, trying to find her way…
But she knows what she feels in her heart.
And that’s what it was. That’s what ultimately drove her to extend her hand towards him and do what she did.
She’s thought about it a thousand times. How did she do it?
She still has no idea. She didn’t act with intention, she acted on instinct, a deep, primal desire, one she wasn’t even consciously aware of at the time. It’s only now, after hours upon hours of reflection, that she realizes what happened was only a shadow, a disappointment.
And now that she’s finally figured it out, what she really wanted to do in that moment, the memory of it breaks her heart.
Because she didn’t reach out to heal his shoulder.
She reached out to heal his soul.
She just wanted to reach into him, push past all his anger and resentment and self-loathing, to that brokenness inside him, like the crack in his kyber crystal, and mend it, so deeply, so thoroughly, that there wouldn’t even be a scar left.
Then, she would just sit back and watch, watch all of his rage roll back like clouds, dark and stormy billows sweeping away to reveal the sun, everything else that he is.
Generous. Protective. Loyal. Kind.
The man who wants to build things. The man who’s driven to become a fair and just leader. The man who seeks advice, who’s willing to listen, because he wants to become better, smarter, wiser.
The man who wants to be like his father, who can be just as infuriating and lovable as he was, and just as strong. The man who’s more like his mother than even he knows— decisive, confident, commanding but also tender and gentle, soft and considerate.
The man who could be so caring, so merciful, so compassionate if only he’d stop trying to kill the best parts of himself.
The man who encourages her, empowers her, makes her feel like she’s special, inspires her to push her limits, to challenge herself, to grow.
And it’s just not right, it’s not fair, that she’s the only person in the galaxy who ever sees this man. She can think of so many places where he’s needed, wanted, where he would be welcomed. She shouldn’t be the only one to benefit from his guidance, his kindness, his concern.
The more she gets to know him, the more it kills her that he spends most of his time buried under a thick coat of rage, a practiced, purposeful anger converted from the never-ending stream of pain seeping out of his broken soul.
She just wants to set this man free— Ben Solo. Destroy Kylo Ren for good and set him free.
That’s what she wanted to do in the training room. Not mend a wounded shoulder.
She wishes she could say that her motivations were pure, that she wanted to do this for the good of the galaxy, out of the goodness of her heart.
But the truth is her reasons were selfish. She just wants Ben Solo, misses him and wants him around more.
She misses his company, his conversation, how he challenges her but also supports her, encourages her. She misses hearing about his perspective, his experiences. She even finds herself missing his smart-ass sense of humor.
Mostly she misses the way he sees her, really sees her, in a way that no one else does. No one else sees her cry, or knows her most deep-seated fears and insecurities. No one else knows that she thinks of the Falcon as her home, or that she’s scared of lightening in a thunderstorm, or that she worries she’ll never discover her true destiny. Everyone else sees what she wants them to see, usually her survivor’s armor, a hard exterior that projects confidence and self-sufficiency, that hides all of her vulnerabilities.
But she can’t hide that from Ben Solo because she’s bonded to him. She can’t lie or pretend that everything’s fine, because he feels what she feels. When they’re together, everything that hurts in her hurts in him and visa versa. She has no choice but to show him her true face.
That’s why, at the end of the day, he’s her closest friend, the person who knows her better than anyone.
The fact is that he’s the only one who understands her, understands how she can feel so lonely, so isolated, even when she’s surrounded by friends. He’s the first person she wants to talk to when something’s troubling her. Whenever she’s feeling scared or broken, she finds herself wishing he were there, just to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her everything’s going to be alright. Because she’s never felt more at home than his arms, never felt more content, more protected, more loved—
In an instant, Rey’s thoughts grind to a halt and she jerks back, gasping, her eyes flying open. It’s so jarring, that Kylo reacts without thinking, violently ejecting himself from her mind.
But not before he felt the realization hit her. He was there for that. He was in her mind, in her heart, when that wave of emotions washed over her and for the very first time, she recognized it for what it was.
She loves him. Just as much as he loves her.
She looks up at him, clear brown eyes wide with shock.
Kylo doesn’t think, doesn’t deliberate, doesn’t question. He just acts.
He steps forward, capturing her lips with his own, pulling her into him, an arm behind her waist, a hand at the back of her head, taking her hungrily like he’s wanted to do for so damn long, like he’s imagined doing every day since he first extended a gloved hand towards her and offered everything he had to give.
At first, she’s stiff and awkward, unsure of herself. But she soon follows her first instinct, just melting into him, giving into the moment, what she feels in her body and her heart. She slides her palms up his chest, slipping her fingers behind his neck and into his hair.
They open their mouths into one another, taking each other in, losing themselves in the physical sensations—the wet, the warmth, their muscles trembling with desire— but also the emotional experience, the oneness of a shared love flowing between them.
Time and space fades away, leaving only the heat, the blood racing through their veins, the gripping and pulling of flesh as one kiss blends into the next one, then the next, and then the next.
Until he feels her begin to stiffen again, her chest seizing with panic. She slides her hands down to his chest and starts pushing him away.
He releases her lips, but keeps her close, still pulling her into him with one arm behind her waist and a gloved hand cupping the back of her head. They’re both panting and trembling, and she’s starting to cry, tears pouring over her full, soft cheeks. She still pushes against his chest with her palms but he resists, drawing her in closer, bringing his lips to her ear.
“Don’t fight this, Rey,” he begs her, his voice just above a whisper. “Please. Please.” The last word comes out breathless, almost desperate.
She starts to cry harder, her shoulders shaking with soft sobs. He pulls back, just an inch away from her, framing her face with both hands, his thumbs at her cheeks, brushing away her tears. He lingers for a moment, eyes pleading, before he rests his forehead on hers and starts shaking his head gently.
“Don’t fight this,” he repeats, almost wearily. “Please. Please. You’re always…” He scoffs softly, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes, her beautiful brown eyes, still glistening with tears. “You’re always searching for the bond’s purpose, what it’s for…” He abruptly drops a hand to her waist again, pulling her in close, his lips descending to her ear.
“This is what it’s for.” His voice is hushed but impassioned. “It’s for us to be together. Like this. Part of you has to know that.” He feels her body begin to shake more violently, a fresh round of sobs overtaking her. He pulls back again, an agony of emotions ripping through him, both his own and hers, all of the love and desire and fear and pain, weighing his heart down with a crushing burden.
Her eyes drift up to his, barely visible through her tears, and suddenly Kylo feels everything she’s experiencing, everything storming inside her, sharpen into one, unmistakable emotion.
She freezes, her body stiff like a statue, her breath caught in her chest. She stares up at him, her lips parted, eyes wide with fear.
Then in an instant, she’s gone, her warm body disappearing in his arms, nothing left but cold air and the smooth black floor below.
Kylo staggers, reeling from shock, his mind not fully convinced that what just happened was real.
He stands in the throne room, numbed and unable to move, alone once again in the deafening silence.
