Chapter Text
The incessant chirps of the few Porgs residing by your side pulled you from your daydream. Their vacant, beady eyes stared up at you, desperate for attention. But you were busy. With your makeshift fishing rod in hand, you recasted in a new spot with the hope of finding some dinner. It wasn’t often that the trickling water failed to provide you with food, but sometimes it just took a while for anything to latch on. With your stomach grumbling that little bit louder, your patience was growing thin.
The Porgs once again nestled up to the side of the thigh. You scoffed, unsure of whether they wanted your affection, which you were susceptible to give every now and then, or whether they just wanted whatever you were catching. You’d gotten used to their neediness now. At first they were always in the way, but now you’d feel uncomfortable if at least one wasn’t there.
That’s what happens when you’ve been deprived of company for the last 7 months.
The small planet of Dontu had been your home since you were permanently removed from Starkiller base. Honestly, you could’ve been landed with worse. The particular area you resided in was grassy, compatible with farmland that granted you a crop field, perfect for harvesting crops and providing food. Not too far from here was a forest hosting clear water rivers and fresh, native fruit and sometimes the opportunity for a larger meal. Far ahead of you was the coast; the perfect viewpoint to watch a sun emerge from the never ending horizon. The weather conditions weren’t problematic either. It granted you days of warm draughts, equally balanced out by the number of days of rain. You had thought the First Order had made some sort of mistake. The planet was simply uninhabited, not uninhabitable. And therein lies the only issue of there being no one else here. Not that you had seen yet, but all contact you had was with animals and creatures that couldn’t reciprocate any means of communication.
You sighed. It could be worse.
It was strange to think as you sat there fishing with a few Porgs by your side, that just last year you were working for the prominent and dominating First Order. Sometimes you found yourself reciting the memories you had while working there, remembering the pressures of the deadlines you faced, the people you hung around and the people you cowered from, the hustle and bustle of the overpopulated halls of the base - the thrill was there. Gods, you thought. What you would do for a thrill these days.
The First Order thing didn’t last. Their reputation for being unreasonably ruthless preceded them and you could verify that first hand. Their unforgiving nature couldn’t see past the mistake that was made and High Command were sure as shit that they weren’t going to bother wasting time investigating the happenings of low ranking officers. They gave the final order; you were to be exiled.
The memories of that day wrapped itself around your brain, your veins, your dreams, your nightmares. It wouldn’t let itself go. Even when you did manage to distract yourself from it, it wasn't long before it came right back to haunt you. The emotions were still just as raw from the day it happened and you either found yourself punching the walls of your base in a fit of fury, or crying a river of tears in the darkness of your bedroom. Either way, it was just as painful.
The slight tug of your fishing rod jerked you back into reality. Spirits rose as the promise of a decent dinner became feasible. You rose to your feet and yanked the pole back but it put up a fight. It’s going to be like that then, is it? The Porgs gobbled and scattered away as you wrestled with dinner. With a mighty tug, dinner came sailing out of the water and dangled helplessly at the end of your line. With a satisfied sigh, you glanced at the permanently shocked expressions of the Porgs and threw them a smile.
You secured dinner safely into your satchel, and marched your way through the long grass back towards your base.
Your base isn’t really a base in it’s normal definition, more simply just an abandoned building. An abandoned home. The remnants of its past occupants still remained, evidencing that this used to be the home of a loving family. The etchings of recorded heights marked the doorway, books lined the shelves, pictures mounted the walls and belongings were still strewed across the living area. Of course you were in luck to find it vacant, equipped with all the necessary amenities an exiled person could ask for. But your luck was soon replaced by the guilt and dread of wondering what had happened to its previous owners and why they weren’t here. You didn’t want to disgrace the homely nature of it so you tried your best to keep it the way you found it.
The house was old, but it had some recognisable technology you allowed yourself to manipulate like the generator and the electrics. The only thing you couldn’t fix was the Comms link. The navigation tower was busted. Getting a signal out to anyone was impossible.
It wasn’t terribly large either. All areas were fitted into the ‘L’ shaped building. The kitchen was the first area you passed through from the side door. Then there was the living area that consisted of a few couches and bookshelves, followed by a ‘bedroom’ area with a large bed placed at the far end of the wall, accompanied by the little door that led to the refresher with warm, running water if the generator wasn’t being temperamental. You had also discovered an attic which had nothing but a bare mattress and a measly table, caught up in cobwebs.
It wasn’t much but it granted you warmth, shelter and a place to sleep.
To the left of the house a few paces away, you found Hozaro the Orback contently munching away at the endless supply of long grass. The tame creature approached you from nowhere within the first week of your exile. He made for some company, fast travel and sadly enough, something at least alive to listen to your daily commentating. You had figured he belonged to the family that once lived here because when he found you, he allowed you to mount him and he reliably led you here. Even to this day, Hozaro always found his way back no matter how far away you were. He was a smart creature.
You couldn’t say the same for the Porgs though.
Dinner went down a delight. The best you had in a while actually. You even had spare to chuck a few pieces at the Porgs rummaging at your feet. On previous nights you’d had to rely on your rations of the few pieces of fruit and vegetables you managed to grow out in the garden. Unsatisfying, but sufficient.
Tonight’s entertainment consisted of the book you picked up from the shelves a few weeks ago. It was an interesting read. The fictional fantasy-like book casted your mind away from the loneliness and away from your terrible past, and for once, your mind delved deeper into the works of your imagination. Something about having a paper copy of a book; the fragility of wilting paper between your fingertips as you turned the pages was a luxury you couldn’t appreciate back at Starkiller base. Everything was brightly electronic, mechanical, touch screen, finger ID’d, card swiped - there was something unoriginal about it all.
Even the staff.
You couldn’t deny that you did indeed have your share of interactions with higher up’s and stormtroopers that seemed incapable of showing any emotion. People weren’t allowed to be people. It was like it was banned; like it was a show of weakness. Worst of them all was High Command. You’d spit at their names; each and every one of the bastards that sit at the top of the hierarchy. You hated how glorified they were. You refused to see that their role in the galaxy was somewhat influential or empowering, for you saw them as power-hungry sadists that would smother any sign of resistance, even in and of their own. Of course, you would never say that to their faces…
There was one in particular that was known for such a thing. His name constantly sparked gossip amongst workers and that was the Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren. Now he had a reputation. A reputation that not many were keen to exercise nor witness, for Kylo Ren had a temper like no other. A trigger finger so sensitive, you were sure that he himself couldn’t predict what would set it off next. His characteristics were more forbidding than what any of the other members of the High Command were capable of, something they could only strive for but yet they cowered from him. His life was no short of legendary, of course, you couldn’t expect less from the tyrant who rules the galaxy.
The last telling you heard of him came from your colleague who had reported that he severed an officer's foot when he accidentally stepped on his cape. You didn’t think it to be true until the following week. You almost gagged when you saw the officer with a missing foot and blood leaking through his bandages, confirming everything down to the very detail.
His temperament was only part of the challenge. The other insufferable feature about him was his presence. His commanding demeanour would instantly cause the temperature to drop as soon as he walked into the room. The chills were his calling. It led to conversations immediately ceasing in fear that any word spoken out of turn would warrant for severe punishment. He was incredibly meticulous but yet a man of impulse. Everything about him from his tall, brooding frame to his dark chrome, modulated voice that was known to rumble through hallways screamed dangerous: avoid him at all costs.
You had run into Kylo Ren once before. You say ‘run into’ but you really meant hide from. That was the moment you realised that what everyone had said about him was true. You were just lucky enough that the stomping of his boots rounding the corner served as a warning of his impending approach, and you were granted time to hide in the valleys of machinery that mounted the walkway. It was a fear that you didn’t want to experience again.
It all made for an unsettling work environment, so perhaps, maybe your exile was a blessing in disguise.
Yeah, still not convinced yourself just yet.
Hours later, the fire’s glow was soon reduced to nothing but a speck of light in the dark. The logs had burned to cinders and ashes as black as the night sky outside. With the Porgs tucked up at the end of the couch slowly cooing themselves to sleep, you conceded with your heavy eyelids, finally admitting it was time for bed. Sleep found you quickly and you greeted it as an old friend, surrendering yourself to the deep slumber it offered you.
It must’ve been in the early hours of the morning when you were pulled back into the waking world. Something was wrong. The Porgs were awake, too. Every single one of them had perched themselves at the bay window, watching something in the distance as they chirped more erratically than usual. Curious, you decided to follow suit. The night was still dark, but there was a hint of an orange sunrise staining the horizon. Initially, you couldn’t find what the Porgs were bothered by. But not a second later you saw it; in the distance was a black dot breaking into the atmosphere, a cloud of black, billowing smoke following behind it. Whatever was approaching wasn’t in good shape.
You had a feeling that your wish for a thrill you made earlier was about to be granted.
You raced outside to watch what looked like a shooting star fall closer and closer to your base. The closer it came the more you realised it was a ship. It had a busted engine and was slowly losing speed and altitude as the pilot desperately tried to keep its nose up. The night’s sky was still too dark to make out what kind of ship it was and who it belonged to, but the closer to the ground it got, the more you started to think it didn’t matter. The likelihood of either pilot or ship surviving was slim. Nevertheless, you stood and watched as it made its descent on the other side of the hill, just a few hundred metres from your base. You couldn’t see it crashing, the hill obstructed the view. When you didn’t see the ship combust into a roaring fire like you thought it would, your heart changed pace. Instead, you heard a cacophony of metal scraping along the dirt, under the assumption that the pilot had somehow landed it without completely destroying themselves in the process. The sound had you wincing.
When all seemed settled, and mostly safe, you dragged Hozaro from his stable and raced towards the crash site. The miles of skid marks led to a ship slumped to one side, sinking further into the ground as the fire burned the metal into rust. As you neared the wreckage, you couldn’t tell if your streak of loneliness was about to end or whether it would continue. The engine was completely engulfed in flames and it was slowly spreading to the cockpit. Whoever was in there needed to get out. And fast. The trampling hooves of Hozaro picked up with motivation and you still couldn’t see any signs of life, but you had to stay hopeful.
The moment came and you threw yourself off Hozaro. The heat of the flames was already warming your skin as the stench of burnt fuel polluted the air. You made your way in between the two wings of the aircraft and pinpointed the cockpit. Through what you could see, there was something, or someone, slugged over the control panel, unresponsive and unmoving. Hurriedly, you yanked open the seal, pausing just briefly to cough the gathering smoke and fumes that suffocated your lungs. Determined to save a life, you hooked your arms under the pilot’s and dragged them from the burning wreckage. Unconscious, or dead, they were unbelievably heavy and you heaved to get them and you to a safer distance before the threat of the ship exploding became reality. You had just hoped that their helmet had provided some protection in the crash.
Exhausted, you collapsed onto your back, gulping down the air you were lacking just moments ago. Hozaro instinctively came trotting over, snout and tusks came into sight as he leaned down, checking for signs of life. You confirmed with him that you were okay.
Once you composed your body and mind, your priority turned to the pilot, still lying unconscious just yards from you. He might still be alive, your mind told you. You rushed over to him, kneeling just to the side of his head turning it to face you.
As you did, the colour immediately drained from your skin and bile rose in your throat. That helmet…that mask.
Lying there, unconscious at your feet, was the Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren.