Chapter Text
The room was a bedroom, had been so for a very long time. Ever since the now-a-father had been a little boy, which was so long ago there were very few toys to remember.
The oldest one in the room, the only one who could speak of such times was the kindly owl, whose feathers had once been a stunning copper brown but was now all grey. The owl didn’t seem to mind though, since his faded feathers had dulled during great adventures in the park and beyond, the kind only the most beloved and special toys could go on.
Kylo had greatly admired the owl once. So tall and majestic, even as he was old and frail. Such a grand name he had, even though he went by a more common one. For when the owl was young and shinning new, the little boy who adored him could barely speak at all. So he had named the owl “Ben”, a much easier name on the tongue.
The owl had kept the name ever since. He had worn the name with pride, which was something Kylo couldn’t comprehend.
Not the new name, that is.
Pride.
Kylo couldn’t understand what it was like to feel pride, because he was not a beloved owl who was wise and kind. He was not on the bed, high up near the pillow, to be kissed before bed time and grinned at come morning.
He was a toy soldier, with a crack on his face.
And so he was sent where broken toys go.
The Shadow under the bed churned and slithered, tightening its coils around him. Had it been nighttime, Kylo might have curled into himself, clutched his knees and buried his head in his arms. Alas, the sun was still out, and so he had to keep his spine straight and his hand on the pummel of his sword. Unable to fight, and unable to hide.
And still the Shadow slithered.
Hush, little thing, it whispered with its many mouths. If you stir too much, you will break. I am all that is keeping you together.
Kylo knew it had to be true.
The crack on his face was a terrible, hideous thing that spread from the top of his brow to the side of his neck. It dug into his shoulder in one final, cruel twist, and had he been any less fortunate he would have lost his arm.
Not that it would have changed much, broken as he was. His paint had been chipped away, leaving nothing but a dark coat beneath. Only his face and hands still bore their colors; they were the only proof that there had been anything other than dark before.
He forgot sometimes, often. So long under the bed, so long broken, he couldn’t remember a time where he had been whole. He knew it must have happened, for no toy was born defective. Perhaps there had been a time when he was cherished, though it seemed too outlandish a thing to believe.
But he would never know, for he was under the bed, forgotten.
And toys that are forgotten forget it turn.
Sometimes, he dreamed of small hands blindly patting under the bed, in search of something precious. Instead, they would find him, and though he could not dream it would be a happy accident, perhaps it would be cause enough for him to be put back on a shelf.
Oh, he was in no state to lead an army, could certainly not join the soldiers in beige and white he saw glimpses of from his place in the ground! But oh, surely he would be allowed at the side? Perhaps even some patient, gentle soul would take paint and enamel, and attempt to salvage what could be fixed?
He knew he wasn’t deserving of such privilege. He knew that the crack on his face came from a child’s carelessness, and that such carelessness meant he was not valued or valuable.
But the dream was sweet, and the days were long, so surely it could not hurt to spend it in fantasy?
The Shadow stirred, grew heavier still, in a nearly unbearable cloak. So dark Kylo was already, and with the Shadow covering him, he blended into the Darkness completely.
I keep you safe, it had whispered once, its countless eyes forming new scars on Kylo’s skin. If they find you, broken and useless, what would they make of you? You cannot be repaired; why shouldn’t they throw you away?
Kylo couldn’t speak; if he could have, he would have whimpered.
It seemed the Shadow could read his mind, and never failed to tell him how wrong he was. Still, Kylo could never get angry, because the Shadow was much older than him, much older than anything here. It was wise, and had done much for him.
So he sighed on his mind, and he waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Until night came. Until the moon shined through paler curtains, and he could move.
And move he did.
Kylo dared not venture outside of the Shadow, but he was still brave enough to venture at its edges. And after he hoisted himself up to his feet, mindful of his fragile elbow as he did, he hurried to the edges of his imposed home, up to the foot of the bed on which he could climb.
It wasn’t very high, but it was enough, and if he stretched his arm and ducked his head, he could see far beyond was he could in the daytime. Higher and higher to the upper glass shelf, where the porcelain doll stirred awake.
Kylo couldn’t be sure, forgetful as he was, broken as he was, but he did believe that he was in love with that doll.
When he had first seen it, it had been during his first daring foray to the limits of the world granted to him. The Shadow hasn’t approved, but had let him go. So he had gone far and beyond, had sat down on the ground.
And then he had caught a glimpse of it. And he had thought that the moonlight was playing its tricks again, for he saw a creation of such pallor and visible fragility that surely it had been an echo of moonbeam, to be shattered forever at the slightest touch.
But it hadn’t been, for the moonbeam had moved, had walked, had spoken in arrogant words that Kylo couldn’t fully make out, and it had been breathtaking. For Kylo then knew that the little fragile thing was not so, that porcelain was stronger than lead. For while the doll strut around like a General, or an Emperor, Kylo was cowering in the Shadows, watching with longing at what he could not have.
At first, he had been jealous, of the confidence. Of the green eyes and red hair. Of the clothes which were not quite black, mainly grey, with white stripes and a silver buckle. That jealousy had dwindled down when he remembered all that he was not, and all that could never be.
But this doll was new, was beautiful, enthralling, and such a great reward for his own daring in venturing so far. And though he was sad, he decided then that he could not hate it.
So he came back the next night, because one more glimpse couldn’t hurt.
For the night afterwards, he saw as the doll stirred awake. And he saw as the doll marched on its shelf, sat down, stood back up and marched again. He saw as the doll looked over the toys below, and saw that pale face remains impassive as ever. And Kylo saw as no one came up to its level, and how no one was even on the shelf below. He looked around the bedroom, and saw all the other toys stirring below, some in plain sight, some in conspiratorial circles whispering what he couldn’t hear. None of them so much as glanced up.
And Kylo looked back up at the doll with red hair, and how he paced, and marched, and kept busy.
Kylo thought it might be lonely, alone on the glass shelf.
And Kylo’s heart had swelled with sympathy, for he was lonely too.
So he came back the next night, because one more glimpse couldn’t hurt.
On that night, the chess pieces had gone into a fight, and the doll had watched the game. He yelled orders at the white pieces, and though they did not respond they headed his words, and went on to victory.
Kylo then learned that the doll was very smart indeed, and it had impressed him tremendously.
So he came back the next night. And the night after that.
And again.
One night, he spotted the red cat prowl the bedroom, for the door had been left open. He saw as it pounced on the radiator, then on the wooden chair, then up and up until it made its way to the top, to the glass shelf with the doll.
Kylo had been so full of fright. He had gotten to his feet, and before he even thought of what he was doing, climbed onto the foot of the bed. He needed to see, needed to make sure the cat hadn’t caused terrible harm!
It only occurred to him later that his bad arm hadn’t broken from his daring.
At the moment, all he could think about had been the doll, and the cruel carelessness of a cat.
He hurried in his climb, stretched his little body as far as he could, and what he had seen had stunned him.
The doll had been in no danger at all! Instead, the cat had laid it head delicately against the shelf, and the doll was petting it with its small hands. The cat had been purring, and the doll had been laughing.
And Kylo watched, and felt his little heart burst with his wonder for the peculiar doll of so many talents.
After that, there had been no question of not coming back. He would return for as many nights as were given to him.
Today, the doll was leaning over the shelf, looking at the chess pieces and sniffing in displeasure at the poor strategy. Kylo smiled as the doll’s nose crinkled.
It had occurred to him it might be rude to watch without permission. If he could speak to the doll, he would most certainly apologize.
But the doll and him would never meet, and he was too weak to keep himself from watching some more.
He could have watched on forever, but all too soon he heard stirring in the back.
His heart sank, for he knew the Shadow was displeased.
Come back, little toy, the Shadow whispered, for you are too far away, too dangerously exposed.
“A nighttime more,” Kylo asked, for surely it had been but minutes? Surely in this winter night, there was still time for him to feel happiness?
It has been hours, and the sun is nigh, the Shadow said, sending wisps of darkness to tease at his ankles. Come back, that I may keep you safe.
“An hour more,” the soldier pleaded, for though the Shadow knew best, surely it might indulge? Surely it might protect him long enough for him to linger?
You are greedy, and it will cause you pain, the Shadow berated, its gentle voice like knives. It will cause you to break, if you do not come back.
“A moment more,” the toy begged. But a moment was quickly passed, and so he let himself be taken away by the Shadow, his eyes never leaving the doll until it disappeared from his sight, hidden by the edge of the bed.
It was enough, that brief moment. Anymore would be greedy.
When Kylo was back to his usual spot, he laid down on the floor once again, and waited for the sun to rise.
He would wait another day, and when night came, he would venture to the edge of the Shadow, and watch the doll from afar.
And it would be enough.