WARNING: This story contains spoilers from Star Wars Episode VII
This story is rated M (16+) for language, violence, nudity and sexual content.
Enjoy.
~ooo~
Desperation.
Cannot breathe.
He tosses to the left and takes a few deep breaths. He tries to stay calm, tries to get some sleep for once, tries to feel okay. Still, the turmoil constricts him like a serpent, tightening around his lungs, suffocating him. He feels ready to die.
"You need a teacher!…"
"I can show you the force!…"
That memory feels just like a nightmare. He wants it to be just a nightmare. He remembers the flash of blue and the burn like it was just a moment ago. He rubs his sweat-clad face, somehow hoping that it was nothing but a nightmare. But no. He feels the texture of the old scar—a mark that screams reality. The reminder that it happened. It was so. Written in stone, written on his flesh, forever to be remembered.
I failed…
I lost her…
He turns desperately to the other side. Not even the softness of the mattress can alleviate or console his body, not currently in the torment of war yet tearing itself apart tonight like it was still going on. As a result, he tosses and turns, more and more, forcing out heavier and quicker breaths. Anything to fight the despair and the angst. Anything to make it stop. But no use; it only feeds the struggle and strain. Now, he struggles there in bed, his emotions flinging his long limbs and pulling on him like a vicious pack of wild dogs.
How could that be?...
She's probably gotten stronger by now… What if I fail again?...
Now, he tries to replay Rogan's words in his head. Hopefully, it will alleviate it, at least for a little, at least until he can manage to sleep.
"Everyone fails. Even the most successful people fail…"
"Failure isn't the end, Ren…"
The anxiety and the anger how and snarl, so loud that they drown out those words. They chew up hope and reason, then spit it back out at him.
Dammit, you. Dammit, your desires.
You had the chance, and you blew it, you stupid fuck.
Some other beasts join in on the attack. They pull his body in the other direction, turning the assault into a vicious competition for meat.
How can I not have her?
What's the point to getting stronger? It will never make her come.
She has grown to hate me. No matter what, I lose, either way.
Again, he turns to his other side and buries his face in the pillow. He tilts his head while praying that somehow, the thoughts of her will pour out of his head. Instead, they magnify, and the sound of her voice is the first to manifest.
"A creature wearing a mask…"
"Monster…"
Those words alone are arrows and blades. They sting him even more than had her lightsaber. How her words had deformed and disfigured him! The physical scars merely topped it off. He feels his scar again. His face scrunches in anguish and disgust. He grits his teeth while her sharp words grow louder.
Monster, monster, monster.
He breathes harder, opening his mouth, ready to eject a frustrated, furious cry. Instead, he swings his fist onto a pillow as if desperate to break something, desperate to expel the destruction out of him, before it destroys him from inside. No use, though—the wild dogs already take care of it.
Disgraced.
She made me ugly.
Such beauty made me ugly.
Why does she have to be so lovely? So wanted?
Her visage was so clear in his mind. Dammit, how could he forget that face?
The dark threads in front of shimmering eyes. Those sand-kissed lips. The chin of a doll. Her graceful neck….
It provoked some more wild emotions to join in on the bodily butcher. Instead of pulling on his limbs, they dig their claws into him. They eat away at him, digging into his chest, into his heart, into his loins.
Don't fight her.
The things you want to do to her.
You have to have her.
An image, something like a dream played in his head. A better ending. A wish. It flipped back to the two of them, saber-to-saber, on the edge of that cliff. That fateful moment. He could have easily pushed her over that cliff, but it was truly the last thing he wanted. In his head, he forces the lightsaber out of her hand, and it tumbles to the snowy ground. He tosses his aside. Then, he grabs her. He pulls her small body up against his. Desperate to be together, desperate to have her, desperate to be one. What he would give for her to become part of his own flesh.
Feeling her.
Having her.
Mine. All mine. Mine, mine, mine.
The other wild beasts interrupt this fantasy. They clench it with their teeth and tear it to shreds, and they lash out at the other beasts who delivered it, shaking them off.
Stop it.
Shouldn't feel this way.
It's impossible. It will never happen.
A monster, remember?
He flips onto his back and growls, clenching onto his shirt. He is eager to take it off, for the heat is unbearable and makes sleeping all the more unachievable. Then again, what was the point? It would not be enough. He would still be restless.
The beasts eating into his torso earlier do not give up, as much as the other dogs bear their violent jaws at them. They pounce onto him again, and some fight with the competitors and make them let go.
Must have her.
Nothing without her.
Need her desire.
Cannot live without….
Fantasies are planted into him again. Once again, they alleviate the strain from the other wild moods. She is here, in this room, staring right at him through brown threads. He grabs her and throws her down onto this bed, him along with her. He pins her down, stares her dead into those shimmering, star-lit eyes, absorbing her hungrily…
Again, the opposing dogs interrupt.
No fantasies. Stop it.
It won't happen.
The furious beasts are attacking more viciously now. Their war over his body rages on and suffocates him with their weight, claws and jaws.
Monster… Monster…
He breathes harder. He grits his teeth.
You failed…
He grabs the sheets tighter.
Want her.
Need her.
Tossing his head the other way.
No. Monster…
The tension is swelling in him.
Monster.
His thoughts have become a massive storm. It blows all sanity away. It disintegrates all hope. No more rest, no more comfort.
Monster.
His thoughts are on the verge of killing him.
Monster…
Monster.
Monster!
MONSTER!
Flinging himself upward, he has just enough breath to unleash one blood-curdling, furious outcry.
ENOUGH!
His howl scared away the emotions.
Once again, Kylo Ren felt nothing.
He took deep breaths, perspiring heavily. His disturbed black eyes scanned the room through darkness, subconsciously taking in the details of his surroundings.
Pure emptiness.
It was odd how blank his mind had become, especially right after this cocktail of mental chaos. In fact, the abrupt end was beginning to make him uneasy. That typical "what the hell just happened" feeling was kicking in—was he really supposed to be this calm right now? Still, he wanted to bask in the feeling while he could, since he was unsure whether the mood swings would come back. While the emptiness lasted, his vitals began to steady themselves, and his breathing grew quiet. It was not long before the decline turned into a crash and made his body fall limp onto his back with a thump. For a while, he stared blankly at the ceiling while the exhaustion kicked in. Finally, he thought. Maybe he could sleep now.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and without a care, he let his thoughts wander a little.
Minutes later, he regretted it.
Within his subconscious was the debris of his mood swing, the unusual sense that he had done something wrong. As he wondered why it was there, shame picked up the scent of his inquisitiveness and became attracted. In a heartbeat did it growl and leap onto his chest.
Failure.
The weight upon Ren's chest forced a huff out of him. Clearly, he did not deserve rest tonight. Not for his disgrace. Dread was flowing in his veins. This was only the beginning of another hellish night.
No. He could not let it happen. Not another night. Now, he was considering drastic measures— the only two options he really had.
First, there were his sleeping pills. Those would definitely do the trick, but they were so potent that it would be very difficult to wake up in the morning. Considering his early training session in the morning, sedation was probably out.
Then, there was the other choice. A last minute thought, born of his impulsive nature. Although not as risky, it was far from immaculate…
~ooo~
"What pins would you like, my lady?"
Tazaar's nose twitched a bit when the handmaid undid a small snarl in her hair. She looked over at the tray on her vanity, scanning her wide variety of shimmering hair ornaments. For someone seeing her accessories for the first time, it would have been impossible to pick from the collection, for the queen owned every type of accessory that one could comprehend, from jewels and pearls to clips, pins, feathers, circlets, and more. She thought it perfectly necessary to have countless options available so that she stayed prepared for every occasion and could keep up on the latest hair trends. Tonight, however, she was leaning towards something simple. Therefore, her eyes had fallen upon two long, silver pins with dainty blue jewels on their tips. She gestured at them to her handmaid with her finger. "How about those?"
The handmaid ceased brushing her hair. "Excellent choice," the girl said, agreeing with a nod. Setting the hairbrush down, she reached for the ornaments.
A loud bang from behind had stalled her hand.
The handmaid shrieked and turned around. Tazaar, however, did not flinch. She did not need to—the mirror in front of her had already shown the source of the noise. The reflection announced the presence of a tall, dark figure standing in the doorway. Into her chambers had he brought with him a hostile air, as dark and dense as billowing smoke. Although he was covered in shadow, she could see that he was clenching something silvery in his hand. Perhaps a lightsaber.
In a heartbeat, she identified her intruder. Tazaar quickly shifted around on her chair, peering around the other female to look the man straight into his darkened face. Through direct eye contact, she was hit by waves of sheer anger, burning through her solitude like a river of lava.
And although she knew well of Kylo Ren's infamously destructive temper, receiving such fury from him right now did not frighten her so much as it had shocked her.
His predatory gaze only lasted a few seconds with Tazaar before his gaze shifted. He noticed the handmaid who currently trembled so much that she was holding herself up by clenching to the Queen's chair. Clearly, she was trying not to make a sound, possibly fearing that her cries would prompt the knight to kill her quickly. He wanted no trouble with the handmaid, but any noises were guaranteed to alert nearby guards. Once the girl had become aware of the direction of his eyes, he gave her orders before his glare made her lose control. "Leave us," he hissed. "Quietly."
The girl covered her mouth. She scuttled towards the doors without a word, struggling to stand up straight. She shut her eyes as she passed to Ren's side, daring not to see if he was still glaring at her. The handmaid nearly tripped when she was close to him, but she managed to reach the doorway and escape from the room. By the sense of appending doom in her eyes, she had surely known that she was leaving her queen alone to the mercy of Kylo Ren.
Now, with the two of them alone, his focus returned to Tazaar.
Quickly, the vampire stood from her chair, eyes widening with disbelief. Her open lips stuttered into a whisper. "….. B…. Baby broth—"
Ren summoned the Force and shot his hand out at her.
Bewilderment had quickly exploded into full-blown terror. Tazaar clenched her neck in silence and gaped for air.
The raven-haired male stormed towards her with a grim snarl over his lips. He waved his hand, this time throwing her helplessly against the wall.
As he grew closer, the woman writhed slightly under his hold, yet she could hardly move due to the intensity of the control. A pin placed loosely into her hair earlier had fallen to her feet, letting her dark tresses fall and fling in front of her face in a dangled mess. Half of her face was visible and wrinkled with agony from the slam of her skull against the hard wood. When he was just inches away, she could only respond by merely glancing up at his face, appearing disheveled and ready to whimper. Not once, however, did this pitiful look phase him while he drew out his lightsaber, summoning its glowing hotness with a click and a hiss. Then, with his face just inches from hers, he had left enough room between them for the fiery red glow to slip into the space and to greet her throat. With their eyes meeting through messy brown and black sets of hair, he leaned against her, breathing much harder than she did. Focusing more on the woman had nearly caused him to burn his own throat instead, but the immense heat alerted him to keep his hand somewhat steady.
By now, he had relinquished the Force upon her neck and used his weight to hold her in place. Still, she did not say a word. Only deep, shaky breaths while crimson eyes observed the mad pale face beneath tousled, matted raven threads. His apparent insanity rendered his eyes so dull and lifeless. She had thought he looked like a wreck before when he nearly died on Starkiller, but his present madness was making him look a little worse than that.
Finally, Ren opened his lips. "You failed me," he whispered erratically.
"W-wh…."
"You took it from me…."
Unsure what he was referring to, she shook her head.
"When I fought her," he breathed, "you took it from me…"
Now she understood. Her eyes widened.
"Tell me…. You've lost faith in me…"
"…"
He snarled. "Say it." He shifted the humming blade closer to her skin. "Damn you, say it to my face…"
Tazaar shivered, but she refused to speak.
"You see the truth now…. You see I'm not worthy… Don't you?..."
She furrowed her brows. While she kept her eyes upon him, she noticed his expression shifting abnormally. Anger was slowly disappearing from his eyes and lips, sinking into his interior like a stone sinking in water. Emerging closer to the surface, however, was something else.
"I'm not enough…." He shook his head. "… Never was… Never will be… Say it…. I'm getting what I deserve…"
Tazaar was in utter disbelief again at the sudden sparkle in his eyes. Was she seeing tears?
Ren was starting to choke. "I deserved to die right there." While pursing his lips, his hand shook slightly and moved the blade between them. Before it got too much, the red glow had suddenly vanished with a hiss.
"… Baby brother?..."
The lightsaber slowly slipped from his hand and tumbled to the floor.
"… Baby brother…"
He fussed miserably now, on the verge of weeping. "I don't deserve sleep anymore… Do I?" he choked. Now, he was a miserable man expelling what he felt were confessions. "I deserve to suffer like this…. Drowning in shame every night…. Desperate to sleep…. Alone…. Broken…. A waste….
"And, say it to me… I deserve to be tormented by her, don't I?...
"An enemy…. A damn nobody…
"Forever thinking of her…
"Forever hungry…
"A woman I know I cannot have…"
Hot tears were streaming. The redness of his cheeks nearly made them look like drops of blood.
Tazaar remained speechless.
Then, at last, it happened. Neither she nor any being had ever seen such a thing before—Kylo Ren falling to pieces, undone, unraveling like bandages, revealing somber and hideous scars much worse than the physical ones. As he buried his face against the wall, he burst into mad, quiet sobs. Tazaar did nothing but watch as his legs seemingly gave beneath him, causing him to slide down slowly against her until he fell to his knees. Not caring about his tears flawing the silk of her robe, he buried his head into her abdomen, his cries and coughs rushing out of him like demons from an inferno.
The vampire looked down at the mentally torn-up human before her. Processing what she was seeing and hearing, she started to understand his torment. In fact, from having witnessed the demeanor of broken-hearted men so often, she knew this kind of torment all too well. Thus, out of sympathy, her hands tenderly made their way to his head. As gently as the wings of a bird, she embraced him in silence.
Here was Kylo Ren, who stood so sturdy against almost every mighty obstacle the galaxy had to offer.
He never imagined breaking like glass because of a woman.
~ooo~
((TO BE CONTINUED….))