The Imperial spacecraft traveled through the star system with its cloaking device on. It carried cargo aboard too precious to fall into Resistance hands.

A projector rested in Iona's lap, displaying a holo of the same star system they sailed through. She alternated between gazing at the holo and out the window at the distant planets they passed.

Her companion was a droid—somewhat old in model, but still sufficient enough to transport her safely. It was not, however, a talkative model, and Iona took solace in the silence, in the lack of false words or well-meaning guidance.

Iona was supposed to be studying her betrothed and his family, studying their planet and its culture and politics. After all, she was to be an asset to him, to help him take political leadership. Her Tarkin blood would be perfect for the task.

That same Tarkin blood, Iona knew, was the only reason she had any importance at all. No one would have ever batted an eye otherwise at the girl.

Never in her life had Iona been treated as anything other than a Tarkin. Even in her new family, she would still be just that.

Her droid companion and she had their own private cabin, which kept Iona isolated from others aboard the ship. She fantasized that the ship would be intercepted and boarded by pirates, and that she would be stolen away and wouldn't have to marry a man twenty years her senior, just to be used as a political tool and baby maker. They would whisk her away and she would learn how to fly and fight and survive. No one would care what her last name was—they would care only who she was. And the dashing pirate captain would fall madly in love with her after she saved his life from the Resistance, as of course he would threaten the peace.

"Mistress," the droid suddenly piped up with its lifeless monotone. Iona nearly jumped in her seat, startled out of her daydream. "You are experiencing enhanced levels of excitement and adrenaline unbefitting to the situation at hand. Do you require a light sedative?"

"No," Iona breathed hastily. "No. I am well."

"Very good." The droid turned back to facing forward, and might as well have turned itself off for all she knew.

Iona stood abruptly. "Excuse me. I shall return momentarily."

She walked past the droid and to the door. It clicked open, its mechanics in sync with the droid.

"I shall observe your vital signals in your absence," the droid informed her.

The door slid open and Iona nearly flew out of the room. She made it to the refresher and locked herself inside, breathing heavily.

After a moment of recollecting herself, Iona turned to the mirror. She should really wash up and tidy herself before meeting her betrothed. First impressions were important, and she needed to make a good one.

Her pale blonde hair was fixed in an elaborate up-do, makeup applied expertly to highlight her features. Her dress was both imposing and simple—the bodice fitted to her torso like a glove, accentuating her breasts, the skirt flaring out. Her shoes were high heeled and left her with alluring posture. It was all terribly uncomfortable.

Sometimes when Iona looked at her reflection, she felt a stranger in her own body. This was not her.

A sudden shake caused Iona to clutch the sink in front of her. It rattled the ship and turned it sideways.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she ran back to her cabin, despite the monstrous heels and the odd angle of the ship.

The droid inside opened the door for her and informed her of the situation as Iona rushed to the window.

"We are being attacked."

"By who? The Resistance?" Iona asked, trying to quell her excitement. Space pirates, perhaps?

"That information is not clear. This is not a battle ship, however. It would be wise to relocate to an escape pod and depart from there."

Iona's hopes deflated. She did not want to be married. She did not want to be in politics.

"What if they board the ship?" Iona asked, ignoring the droid's words.

"We will not be here if they do." The droid stood and grabbed Iona's wrist, dragging her out the door.

"No!" she cried, trying to pry her wrist out of the steel grip to no success.

The ship was hit again and warning lights and sounds flashed. People were running and screaming.

The droid found an escape pod and forced Iona inside. The droid quickly hacked into the pod's system and before Iona could stop it, the pod was released from the ship.

"Surely they'll see us," Iona reasoned. She wanted adventure, not death.

"The enemy is preoccupied with the ship. They will not care of one escape pod."

The droid was so sure that Iona tried to convince herself of the same.

The pod was reworked to take them to the planet of Iona's betrothed. She watched its advance with ever-growing dread.


The planet was mostly consumed by a sprawling metropolis. Iona hated it instantly.

Their escape pod was greeted by the authorities who, upon learning of Iona's identity and purpose in the city, hastily delivered her to the grand Porfchin estate.

Iona Porfchin. The girl shivered.

The estate was grotesquely ostentatious. The inside was just as hideous as the outside. Iona kept herself from turning up her lip in disgust.

Falus Porfchin, her betrothed, met them in the entrance hall. He looked ragged and unhealthy, but Iona was not flooded with concern. She regarded him with cold eyes.

"Welcome, my dear Iona," Falus said with grandeur, despite his ill appearance. She noticed his sunken eyes appraise her body, his eyes lingering on her breasts, and a cold clutched at her heart. "I apologize for my appearance. Things have been very…stressed here as of late."

Iona cared not for this man's opinion of her, even though she knew that she should. Her fate rested in his hands. "Our ship was attacked on our way here. My droid and I barely managed to escape alive."

Falus's complexion, if at all possible, seemed to become even more ashen. "That is grievous indeed." He reached forward and grabbed her hand, kissing the back of it. "I am most thankful that you managed to arrive unharmed."

When he finally released her hand, she moved in behind her back where he could not see and rubbed it against her dress to remove his essence from her skin.

"Please, allow my servant to escort you to your rooms. You must want rest after such an ordeal," Falus said quickly, his eyes averting unconsciously towards a door in the grand hall.

Iona's eyes narrowed slightly. She knew when someone was hiding something from her—she had always been able to sense it. This ability was what made her valuable in the political game—she always knew when someone was lying or hiding.

"That is very thoughtful of you, sir. I should like to accept your offer," Iona replied coolly.

Falus looked relieved. "Excellent." A droid appeared and Falus bowed. "Excuse me."

Iona watched him walk away, reentering the door he had been so nervous about, and she was curious as to what was behind it. It must have been something to make him terrified. His level of paleness was absolutely sickly.

Iona placed a hand above her brow and stumbled.

Her droid noticed. "Mistress, you seem unwell."

She waved her hand at them. "I think I need some air. The events of earlier are taking their toll on me. Please, go ahead to our rooms. It would not help me if I was a burden."

The circuits were almost loud enough for Iona to hear as the droid debated on the best course of action.

"I will do as you wish, Mistress. This servant droid will be sent back for you to show you to the rooms."

Iona gave a grateful smile and a nod before walking towards the entrance. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as the two droids disappeared beyond another door. She stopped and observed her surroundings.

It was strange that the entrance hall was so deserted. Iona walked quietly to the closed door that Falus had escaped behind. Even with her ear pressed to the wood, she could hear nothing.

Again Iona looked around. She knew what she could do, but she feared the repercussions should she be caught. Iona remembered the punishments she had faced as a child, and it was those memories that made her hesitate.

Her heart thudded loudly inside her chest, and it pulsated within her ears. She wasn't even sure if this would work. What had even made such an idea come to her mind?

The last time she'd done anything like it… Iona flinched at the memory, burying it deep down. Still, she hesitated. She shouldn't be doing this.

A deep breath helped to calm her racing heart some, and Iona closed her eyes, her hand unconsciously lying gently atop her neck. She let her mind get lost in a black abyss, reaching out, reaching for that tantalizing energy lying on the outskirts, waiting for her. Her body grew distant, the feelings in it numbed. There was only silence and nothingness. Deep breaths helped ground her, but also relaxed her body, allowing for its release of her mind.

From the other side of the door, Iona could feel it. She could sense the presence of several living beings. Their essences were small, dim, insubstantial. Until she reached one that was so vast her breath was stolen from her lungs. Iona was entirely entranced, mesmerized by this aura's strength and vitality, by its power and command. By its darkness. She was drawn in inexplicably, the darkness seductive and tempting.

This darkness had such a pull to it that Iona did not realize she had been discovered until the door swung open and her trance was broken. She caught herself on the doorframe before she fell inside.

"I can explain!" she heard Falus cry out.

Iona paid him no mind—didn't even glance in his direction. Instead, her vision was met with a black-clothed chest. Her eyes roamed up and took in the figure before her, including the black cloak and how not a trace of the figure beneath the armor was visible, not even his hands (for surely with that build it was a he).

Her eyes ended at the metal mask he wore, and she stared up into the part that shielded his eyes. Iona found herself as captivated by the physical man as she had been by his essence. His masked appearance certainly was befitting.

Falus broke the connection when he scurried to the pair. He nearly fell over himself trying to appease the masked man.

"Please, sir, let me explain. This is but a simple wench, and she heard nothing and absolutely knows nothing. She is a mere trophy wife gifted to me by an ally. There is hardly anything that goes on inside her head, so please do not be angry with her."

Falus continued rambling out his explanations, his excuses, his cruel words against her. Iona glared at him, her hands balled into fists. She prized herself on her still stature—if she were not raised amongst nobility she would have surely attacked him by now. This fumbling, bumbling man continued to belittle her existence. She could foresee in their married future an early widowing by poison.

How Iona would have loved to not be a lady at that point and claw out Falus's eyes, cut out his tongue, rip away his manhood.

What is stopping you?

Iona stumbled back a step, startled. A man's voice had appeared inside her head—she was sure of it. She turned wide eyes to the masked man, whose mask was still turned towards her. He was not even acknowledging Falus.

Such a thing had never happened before, and while a slight fear overcame her, her curiosity was always greater.

Falus roughly grabbed Iona by the back of her neck and she couldn't help the wince that crossed her face. Instantly shame flooded her—she did not wish to appear weak in front of this man.

"She is completely loyal and would never go against me. Isn't that right, dearest?" The threat was very thinly veiled.

Before she had been sent away, her guardian had instructed her that her husband was allowed to have every liberty. After all, what was she but a woman? She was to be his possession, his property. Iona guessed that her tolerance would start now. Despite how much she wanted it, it would not due to disrespect her betrothed in front of his guests—especially powerful ones. She would surely be punished for it later.

This moment would determine the rest of her life.

Iona's eyes fell to the floor as Falus squeezed the back of her neck, awaiting an answer. Her eyes narrowed at the pain, though she'd known far worse in the past. Far worse.

She hated it, but nevertheless she parted her lips to respond in a placating manner—to begin her lifetime of groveling.

Before she could emit a sound, however, the pressure around her neck was gone. Her eyes flew up to see that Falus was floating above the ground, his face turning red, his hands clawing at his neck. She looked to the masked man to see his hand raised, looking like he was choking an invisible neck.

Both fear and awe filled Iona, and she liked nothing more than to see Falus choked to death. But her self-preservation was too high to let that continue.

"No!" Iona gasped, her hands enclosing the masked man's raised one. Her eyes flew to his, pleading, as she attempted to lower his hand.

He'll only punish me for this later.

Her head hurt with the effort she used to try to send that message to him.

The masked man stared into her eyes for a moment before his free hand grasped her wrists and removed her hands from his. He held her to the side before turning his attention back to Falus. His fingers tightened.

"This man has wasted his last breath."

The masked man's voice caused a shiver to run down Iona's spine and her muscles to clench. It was deep and rough and sounded almost metallic.

Falus's limp body fell to the floor, the sickening angle it landed in told her that he was dead.

Iona slowly turned her attention from her betrothed's body to the masked man, apprehension and adrenaline coursing through her.

"Will you kill me too?"

"No. You have a much different future ahead of you now."

The masked man walked out of the room, leaving Iona to notice that the other people present were stormtroopers. She hadn't even realized they were there. One of them motioned with their blaster toward the door, and Iona took the hint.

She followed the masked man out of the room and into the entrance hall, where he seemed to be waiting for her. The stormtroopers quickly filed out of the room.

"You will come with me," the masked man informed her.

"And if I don't want to?" Iona asked carefully.

"Would you rather stay here?" he countered.

Iona considered his question and looked around. This was not her home. She had no home anymore. She couldn't return to her family with a dead fiancée. They would just try to marry her off again, and the next time she wouldn't be so lucky.

"No," she told him, looking back at his masked face.

"Then follow me."

Iona did as he requested and followed him out of the estate, the stormtroopers circling them in a protective detail. Iona spared little of a second thought about her droid companion who was sure to be decommissioned once word reached her family of her disappearance.

As the group walked towards what appeared to be a hover shuttle, Iona was overtaken by the excitement. Her betrothed was dead, she was missing—presumably abducted, and presumably dead. She hoped that this masked man did not know who she was, and would not thusly demand a ransom.

Where would they go? What would they do? What would become of her? The possibilities swam in her head and she could not keep the smile from her face.

Inside the hover shuttle, the masked man sat in the back. Iona paused, unsure where her place was to be. The stormtroopers began seating themselves towards the front, leaving a noticeable space around the masked man.

The man lifted a hand and beckoned her toward him in a gesture that almost struck her as being a little lazy.

Iona walked toward him and sat down beside him.

The shuttle took off and she found herself looking out the window to avoid staring at the man beside her.

"Thank you," she murmured to him.

"You were destined for far greater things."

Iona turned to the man in surprise. "You must be mistaken. What could I possibly be destined for? I've been bred to be a political asset through marriage." She scoffed, despite it being unladylike.

"You do not yet realize what you are capable of."

She grew weary of his cryptic language, of his vague future-telling.

"Where are we going?" Iona asked him. It was a question that should have arisen much earlier, amongst others.

"We are headed back to base on a different planet."

Iona bit her lip. She hoped that planet wasn't anything like this one.

"Who are you?"

The man cut her a sharp look—at least she imagined he did behind his mask. He did not answer her question.

Iona jutted out her chin in challenge. "My name is Iona. Are you part of the Resistance? The First Order? A third party?"

"I am Kylo Ren."


Descriptions of places and surroundings isn't really my thing. So yay for your imaginations filling in the blanks! Also, if you want a face to pair with Iona, I'm picturing a blonde Juno Temple for her.

I know I really shouldn't start another story, as my track record is not great, but I couldn't help it. I've already read most of the Kylo stories on here (so far 9...) and I had to add to it. Hope you enjoyed!

Until next time!