9. Chapter 9

He sits and thinks for a very long time after the girl leaves. She had surprised him, a tiny human not even into her third decade of existence. There was a time, once, where he would have dismissed such an event as impossible, disregarded the occurrence or crushed the source. Foolishness of youth, it had been, the terror of confronting the unknown.

There is always a greater power. One day he will conquer them all.

So he thinks about the girl and her rages in this place of darkness; a child with the strength to crack the very stones over Darth Bane’s tomb, a child who believes she is abandoned in the dark, who has an enchanting air of naïveté, curiosity and intelligence. A child of the Force who sits and opens herself wide in meditation in his presence, who doesn’t shy from pain or righteousness or truth. Young. Untrained. Malleable? Perhaps, under the right circumstances.

She sits on the edge of his consciousness as he runs his shadow empire, compares reports from the First Order fleet and an armada of spies and saboteurs, as he teases divine secrets from tomes of forgotten knowledge. She’s meditating again with a desperate longing, reaching as far as she can stretch through the Force to find a sign of the familiar, the Master who is not coming for her or perhaps seeking alternatives. Among his flaws, and he tries to be objective, accept reality and take steps to control them when they work against his favor, shortness of memory is not one. She had escaped so easily from that young fool; bested a man ten years her senior, a powerful apprentice who had been controlling the Force longer than she had been alive.

Kylo Ren was certainly capable of titanic idiocy, but his strength was true even if his allegiance did not inspire the greatest faith. Still, today’s lesson appears to have taken root in his Padawan’s mind, imperfect, but better, and it had been a singularly unique experience to have the girl sitting with him, so stoic until the end.

An image appears in his mind, fully formed: the girl, older, wiser, stronger, curled by his feet, resting her head against his knee, monitoring his Knights, his generals; bringing perfect instantaneous two-way telepathic communication anywhere in the known universe. Capable of sniffing out signs of treachery or weakness, she is a perfect conduit of control. On his other side, the man, his right hand, stronger, steadied by the constant contact with the girl, no longer limited in his ambitions to that of his grandfather’s tarnished legacy, and perhaps in the dark, out of sight, a raison d’etre, a thing worth accumulating endless power for, worth razing planets for: a continuation of the Skywalker bloodline.

Lord Snoke snorts at the charming tableau, banishing it with a thought. Charming, one might even say quaint, but irrelevant at this time. He will not build castles in the sky; he has objectives and the means to reach them. He does not need to dream, will waste not even a drop in the ocean of time on unfounded speculation. There is nothing yet to indicate that this phenomenon is not a onetime occurrence, an accidental fluke. If the results cannot be replicated, then he cannot use the girl as a communications hub. Perhaps it a sign of things to come for his little star, perhaps someday when she is older, stronger, scarred in the soul and bitter with regrets, she might come into such a thing more easily. If not, well, he will not mourn the loss of such advantage for long. Modern communication channels are sufficient and there are so many other possibilities to explore, so many more discoveries to be made.

The screens he watches are quiet for now, all the orders that need be have been given. Kylo Ren has rested, recovered enough for what will be asked. It is time to summon his apprentice and the little human girl and journey into the land of unknown again.

~

The face full of soft cloth, smelling of rough chemical cleaning agents, is like a slap in the face pulling Rey out of her meditation. Growling at the source of the interruption is just reflex, just one more complication she has to deal with because of stupid Kylo Ren. Stupid Kylo Ren who gets his idiot self electrocuted halfway to death and almost gets stabbed and then fixes her nose like he has the right, like he has the capability of caring about things beyond the fragile shell of himself.

She makes sure to turn her back to him before stripping off the gross, blood crusted tunic and wriggling into the clean shirt. It’s improbably large, but it’s warm in this world of stone and steel and that shouldn’t count for anything, but a distant ache in her bones, just another background noise in the cacophony of sensations she’s been dealing with today, fades. She had been cold and now she was not. A simple thing.

Kylo Ren makes the smallest sound of discomfort as he rolls over in his sleep and Rey rubs her shoulder, at the sympathetic twinge she feels. She glares at the sleeping face, which is not an effective gesture but she does still hate him, hates the casual disregard he has for her free will, her private thoughts and the reactions that she can’t hide from him. It’s important to keep the emotion at bay, but never forget it.

Hate will not help her, but after hours spent in meditation today, she’s not sure the training Master Luke will, either. So what? Old Traz always said it was a bad toolbox that only held spanners; she’s quick and clever, better equipped now than ever before to finagle her way out of this mess. Sure, there are some pretty major obstacles before her, but to immediately write everything off as hopeless isn’t the scavenger way. In a complex like this, there have to be ships, some sort of supply line to this dead world of ashes, if Kylo Ren’s brief description is to be believed. A ship had brought her here, anyway, so there has to be some way off planet. There are other people in this complex besides Kylo Ren and Snoke and she is a passable negotiator. Maybe more than passable, if she taps into her abilities. So there are options, she just needs to take the time, preferably unsupervised, and discover what’s available.

It’s an exciting thought and Rey takes conscious effort to tamp it down. Her two greatest enemies here have both proven to be perfectly capable of reading her mind when it suits their purposes, and though they couldn’t possibly be surprised that she’d consider the notion, it’s probably best if she does not give away her intents.

Now if only she had the faintest notion how to accomplish that task.

Kylo Ren jerks violently, jackknifing upright, eyes rolling, wild and violent, stifling sense of terror flooding her senses until he wakes. He doesn’t seem to notice her at first, just grinds the palm of his hand against his forehead and lets out a long breath.

“Nightmare?” It’s a stupid question, Rey’s not sure why she asks except the word seems to drive back some of the unconstrained panic in his eyes.

Kylo Ren grunts, rotates his shoulders and runs a hand through his hair, shoving curls out of his eyes. “Lord Snoke wants us.” He rasps, coughs, winces and adds, “Immediately.” He shoves the blanket off and, with just the slightest hesitation, stands, testing his leg before jamming boots over his bare feet.

Rey stands by awkwardly, trying to keep the ocean-sized tunic over her shoulders, as the dark lord in training clumsily stuffs himself into his over-robe, struggling with the less than responsive limb. She doesn’t try to offer help; what might have been excusable in the aftermath of physical trauma while the man flirts with lucidity is not nearly the same as getting ready to meet the supreme evil in the middle of the night. She stifles a yawn with her fist and feel’s Kylo Ren’s eyes land on her profile as he tightens the wide belt over his waist.

“Hope you slept while you had the chance. It’s going to be a long night.” Kylo Ren opens the door with a wave of his hand and a sleepy glower. He leaves the mask in the room and she has no idea what to make of that change, whether it’s a conscious decision or not. The only sense she gets from him is exhaustion and minor distress, but that’s so typical that it barely merits notice.

Fat lot of good that advice does her now, and Rey makes a note to herself that she needs to start paying attention when he does that door trick, see if she can’t pick it up without being put into a position of needing to actually ask Kylo Ren for help.

The route down to Snoke’s cavern is starting to feel familiar, that’s definitely not a good sign, especially when she still has no idea where the kitchens are in this place. It’s probably her imagination, but it feels like the twisting staircase recognizes her as she is starting to learn it and Rey doesn’t even try to repress the shudder and her palms grow damp. “I hate this place.” She hadn’t quite intended to voice that aloud and she tenses, but Kylo Ren only grunts, steps through the archway and strides to the center of the spot before Snoke.

The feeling increases exponentially as she sidles under the arch, twitching as unseen eyes rake over her from all directions. Looking down, she finds the cracked cobblestone from that embarrassing moment earlier and then takes enormous effort to stay as far away from it as possible. Whatever’s under the stones here is even more unsettling than Lord Snoke. A deep dark voice chuckles in her ear and Rey almost jumps out of her skin. Just Snoke setting her on edge, right? She doesn’t mean to run, but her pace definitely quickens towards the dais and Snoke’s bright unblinking eyes.

Kylo Ren is already on his knees before his master when she stops short just behind him and for the briefest instant Rey considers joining him. He’ll just force her down one way or another, perhaps it would be better to yield gracefully? Save herself the skin on her knees, the subjugation.

Never. Such a thought does not belong to her and she stares up at Snoke in open defiance, ignoring the creep of chill as the tunic slides down her shoulder for what feels like the ten-thousandth time. There is no unrelenting pressure on her shoulders, nothing shoves her face first into the rough stone.

Snoke ignores her in favor of the barefaced man beside her. “Kylo Ren, I understand you undertook the discipline proscribed and carried it out to the fullest extent of my command.”

The dark head just above the height of her elbow in this position, bows. “Yes, my lord.”

“You have learned the lessons we discussed?” Snoke steeples his fingers under his chin and leans forward slightly.

“Yes, lord.”

The wide blue eyes blink once and Snoke sits back, sweeping a long stare over Rey. “We shall see about that. We discussed, did we not, the standards expected for the little star in my presence?”

“I beg your forgiveness, master. The girl was attacked, in the training yard. I thought-” She feels fear then, a moment of mindless terror followed by great wrath that beats against her head like great wings that blot out the sun of her thoughts that wears against her, a sharp pressure against the back of her neck, his hand against her skin. It’s not her fear, Rey reminds herself, but the thought alone is not enough to keep her on her feet before the might of Kylo Ren’s trepidation. Instead she lets her weight settle back, as elegantly as she can manage, so she’s sitting on her knees, hands palm down on her thighs beside him.

Snoke silences the explanation with a raised hand and crooks a finger. He narrows his eyes and Kylo Ren jerks, grimace bare for them both to see. He shakes, just a little, and blinks, dazed when Snoke releases him. “That is unexpected; in the future you are to expend more effort cultivating loyalty among your followers.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Rey shifts uncomfortably on the stone, doing her upmost to ignore the conversation, only partially spoken, filtered through Kylo Ren’s carefully repressed reactions.

Lord Snoke fixes his eyes on her, sharp and dark and crooks a finger at her. “Come here, child.”

The compulsion is mild, an annoyance that she knows is only a shadow of the power Snoke is capable of. It still makes her dig her heels in and scowl up at him on general principle. The feeling lingers, laced through with some very distressing interference from Kylo Ren and she stands, stretching to her entirely unimpressive height as Snoke descends and stops just a hair’s breadth from where she’s glued her feet to the floor and refused to give an inch. He towers over her, seven feet, eight? She’s not entirely sure, but it’s like standing at the base of a crashed Imperial Destroyer and trying to see the top. Eventually you just give up because the neck cramp isn’t worth it. Those inhuman hands wrap around her cheeks and thread through her hair again, tilting her face up and back until she’s forced to stretch on her toes, grabbing the thin white wrists to keep from being lifted up by her head. Rey grits her teeth as the ugly alien face stares silently, finger tips tracing the flesh of her nose, the bruises on her cheeks, rage and disgust swirling behind her eyes. “Let go of me.”

Snoke deigns to hold on for a moment longer, perhaps merely to indicate that he no more follows her orders than she his and then he gently releases the pressure and smooths the tunic back up over her shoulder. “It is a satisfactory fix.”

“Thank you, master,” Kylo grits out as though the words hurt.

Snoke drags bony-sharp knuckles up her neck and then, seeming to shake out of a stupor, returns to his chair. “Now attend,” He says as though they are here for anything other than that. “I have seen the manifestations of physical pain that you two share. I wish to know more of it.”

The feel of his fingers lingers unpleasantly on her skin and Rey takes a calculated step back, wrapping her arms around herself. “We don’t know anything about it.”

The shattered face twists in disdain, “I am not looking for a lecture, little star. Now, you will cooperate with my requests or you will not leave here with a mere knock on the head.” Rey tilts her head back to indicate just what she thinks of that particular threat, but remains silent and Snoke seems to interpret that as a begrudging acquiescence, for he continues, “Kylo Ren. Think back to your duel this afternoon. Do you remember the pain?”

“Yes, master.” Rey isn’t certain, but she thinks there might be just a touch of sardonic amusement hiding under the slavish obedience.

“Close your eyes, apprentice, embrace the memory; let it flow through you.” Snoke drones, eyes roving between the entranced man and Rey. “Do you feel anything, girl?”

She can hear Kylo Ren’s breathing change, ragged deep gasps for air that, a good boy for his lord, she thinks with disgust, so eager to please. It doesn’t hurt, though, and she ignores the wretched storm of misery roiling around him. “No.”

“Really?” Snoke glances between them again, frowning minutely at Kylo. “Curious. Boy, you may stop that.” He sits there in silent contemplation, then shrugs. “Very well, another test.” He turns the full weight of his stare on Rey. “Girl, little star, Rey,” He very nearly purrs out the syllable of her name. “You have no love for us, this I know. Dear Kylo Ren and I have done so much to you; murdered your friends, attempted great harm to you, stolen you from your life and denied you your freedom. We can do what we please with you, and you know, deep down, that you could not stop us if wished otherwise. I know you hate us, my darling girl, how could you not?”

Snoke’s voice is poison, sick and sweet, inveigling her senses and clouding her head. Close your eyes. Focus. Rey knows Kylo Ren is there beside her, but his light is so far away, flickering in and out of her awareness in a foggy night. Her tongue fumbles the words that she can’t deny, but refuses to confess in this pit.

“You may remain silent,” Even with her eyes clenched close she can hear Snoke smile. “It matters not, in the end. Simply ask yourself this: what would you do, were the positions reversed and you held all the power over Kylo Ren.”

Wind roars in her ears and Rey can’t ignore the temptation dangling on a hook before her thoughts. If she held that kind of absolute power that Snoke does? It’s inconceivable, easier to ask where fish would fly if they had wings. “I don’t know.” Opening her eyes is a trial and a half, but she manages it and looks up at Snoke. “Why do you ask?”

He looks disappointed, if anything, as though she’s just let him down terribly, and waves her question away. “It does not matter, then. Think, then, about hurting Kylo Ren, causing him physical anguish as you did when you cut on his face, his arm. Think on those actions, little girl, the hurt you caused. You could do it again, could do worse, to save your own life. Draw on that, if you like, but think hard.”

Her throat is tight at the memory, what an awful day that had been, without bringing that brief, terrifying combat to mind. The fear, the loss, the rage, the all-encompassing desire to hurt Kylo Ren and, through that, right the wrongs done. Snoke grumbles in wordless frustration and suddenly there’s a vision in her head; watching herself move around Kylo, bound, helpless, terrified, and though she’s never seen the glittering metal implements on the table, her other self seems perfectly at ease with their use and Kylo Ren screams under their application. A fierce joy floods her mind and then the vision dissipates. Her knees buckle and Rey retches emptily, shaking. “You’re a monster.”

Snoke hums at that, “Kylo Ren, what did you feel?”

“Nothing.”

Something brushes against Rey’s mind and the feeling of defilement retreats slightly. She doesn’t dare respond or look away from the stone steps of the dais. There will be nightmares for this, she knows, stains on her mind that will never come out.

Snoke frowns at that, “You’re certain?”

“Yes, lord.”

Snoke exhales in frustration. “Well, that’s information, I suppose. On to the next thing, then.”