"Rey."
Kylo breathes her name out more than says it. And his choice of words alone speaks volumes. For there are few people left alive other than him, his knights, and Vanee who know Rey by her given name. Formal protocol demands she be referred to by her title anyway. Rey is the Empress and on the rare occasions he must refer to her, Kylo uses this same formulation. It makes her a bit of an abstraction. A phantom woman halfway across the galaxy who he sees on newsfeeds and never meets. She might as well be a stranger. But somehow, now that she's standing in the doorway there is nothing impersonal about this meeting. And so, of course, her given name slips from his lips.
"Rey." He says it again as he panics inside. He hadn't been expecting this. His heart is racing but he outwardly projects calm.
Kylo and everyone else in the conference room now stand to show their respect. That outpost on Tatooine Rey calls a palace might be regrettably lax on the social niceties, but this is Coruscant. In his palace, tradition is observed and protocol matters. Here amid the cultural and political vanguard, Emperor Ren keeps up appearances. Just like he keeps up the appearance of a cordial, mutually beneficial marriage.
No one is fooled, of course. The whole galaxy knows that the Emperor and Empress are estranged. They are never seen together and they live lightyears apart. This was a political alliance all along, most pundits agree. After all, Emperor Ren initially told everyone she was his sister, clearly signaling the absence of romance. But others disagree, pointing to those long ago leaked pictures of him and Rey hand in hand. He should never have leaked those pictures. They haunt him now for Kylo cannot look at them without confronting what he lost.
Was it asking too much to get both the girl and the galaxy? Maybe so, he thinks. But he cannot blame their breakup on the Force. The fault lies squarely with him. He had hoped that in time Rey would come to forgive him. She had forgiven his other faults and excesses before. But not this time. This time, he went too far. The two years of their separation have not mended their relationship in the slightest. They are distant, speaking only through go-betweens and the occasional arm's length formal memorandum.
But here she is now. Standing mere meters away from him. Staring him down.
Kylo swallows hard.
So does she, he sees.
"The Jelucan System needs immediate humanitarian relief," Rey abruptly announces. "It's a mining system and your tariff reforms have caused widespread mine closings because prices have fallen. A third of the native population has been out of work for nearly a year."
Huh? What now? Kylo blinks. He knows he should say something commanding and important. Like how the major changes to the galactic economy are short term pain but long term gain. That these temporary dislocations of workers will sort themselves out in time. But instead, Kylo nods and half mumbles, "Yeah, okay. That's fine." And before he can stop himself, he adds, "Whatever you want."
Fuck. He makes a face despite himself. And is she going to say thank you? She doesn't. Rey just nods and sweeps from the room as if millions of credits handed over on a whim were her due.
To compound the cringeworthy episode, Kylo can't help himself and calls after her, "Wait!" And this too isn't commanding. Even to his ears it sounds beseeching and pathetic. "Wait!"
Rey stops and half turns. "Was there something more, your Excellency?" she asks with glacial dignity. She regards him as something akin to bantha fodder.
And that kills his willingness to humiliate himself more. "No," he backs down and Rey continues on her way. She throws one final parting shot over her shoulder: "You still owe me a Senate, Kylo Ren."
All in all, the entire interaction takes less than a minute from start to finish. But he obsesses over it for days afterwards. Well, it might be more like weeks. Mostly, Kylo wonders—and hopes—that Rey will reprise her surprise appearance. But he worries too over Luke Skywalker's lightsaber she held tight in her hand the whole time. Kylo had been so intent on her face that his mind didn't register the weapon until he watched her march out, swinging it in her hand.
Had Rey actually been afraid of him? Or had that been more of her Jakku posturing? Kylo can't decide.
And did she look good in person? He can't remember. She caught him completely off guard. He thinks she looked like she does on the holonet: pokerfaced and stern.
Rey doesn't return. Kylo goes back to obsessively watching her from afar. These days, Rey is the Light in action, busy fast tracking the construction of schools and hospitals, forming inter-system economic councils and free trade zones, and supervising the distribution of social services and charitable aid. The Rim is where that sort of community innovation and infrastructure is needed most. It's also where credits go the farthest and do the most good. It costs a tenth of what it costs to build a school on Tatooine versus Coruscant, and so Kylo puts no real budget limit on Rey's efforts. His only request is that she builds a small chapel in each of her good works. He wants his citizens to see the relevance of the Force in their everyday lives.
His Empress is at first befuddling to the Rim dwellers and then beloved. For while the quiet, somewhat severe looking young woman has none of the flash his subjects expect, she understands and empathizes with their plight on a deeply personal level. No one has the gravitas to speak on the struggles of the downtrodden on developing worlds like his Jakku scavenger wife. The Empress never talks about her own past and the press is instructed never to raise it. But her biography is open knowledge. Rather than earn her contempt, among the Rim citizens it engenders as certain pride. She is one of us, they think.
In public, Rey has a grave dignity. It is not unfriendly, just unapproachable. His girl will always be a bit remote in her manner. But people remember the holonet Resistance spokeswoman who was polite but firm and never argumentative. It is a style rarely seen in public life where political spouses are typically all toothy smiles, stylish clothes, and enthusiastic quotes for the media. In the 'look at me' competitive culture of strivers here on Coruscant, Rey sticks out for her absolute indifference to vanity. And that makes sense. For the Empress has nothing to prove to anyone.
At her Tatooine palace, the Empress receives dignitaries dressed in stately formal robes. But they are made of light colored woven bedouin fabrics common among desert dwellers. It's Rey dressed in a nicer version of the desert rags he first met her wearing. That the Empress manages to sweep into a room looking elegant in a caftan made of peasant homespun will never cease to amaze him. Maybe the dress is so excellently cut that it manages to be chic despite its conspicuous humility. Or maybe it's just Rey who is naturally dignified no matter what she wears. Her quiet poise puts others to shame for trying too hard. This is her style: authentic to herself with a few concessions to her elevated station. Rey manages to meet expectations for acting like a queen while simultaneously being a woman of the people.
The Empress is all substance. But that doesn't save her from receiving a disconcerting amount of holonet attention, even here in the Core. Kylo, of course, follows it all slavishly. As always, the media tends to make famous women into two dimensional figures. People alternatively project upon Rey their need for inspiration or their anger and maybe even some guilt. The Empress becomes a touchstone for a person's experience in life and in the war—good or bad. She endures it all with grace and a very grave dignity that is surprising for one so young. And, over time, even among her detractors, a begrudging respect emerges. It is a great irony that his unsmiling Empress who eschews fluffy interviews and avoids all showy outings is so beloved. And by the mostly First Order aligned power base in the Rim, too.
Rey has turned out to be everything Kylo hoped she would be as his Empress. Except she's his in name only.
She is the queen of the galaxy's deplorables. The compassionate heroine to those huddled masses yearning to breathe free. The champion for all those hardscrabble Rim citizens who cling to their guns and traditions much to the disdain of the urban sophisticates of the Core. She is the anti-intellectual, blunt speaking, peasant born Empress. She has a 'can do' spirit and a roll-up-your-sleeves-and-get-to-work boosterism that inspires. Most everyone living outside the Core of the galaxy applauds her for it. She is one of the few local types who made it good.
Whether by accident or by intent, Rey simply sidesteps everyone's expectations of what a First Lady of the Empire should be. She doesn't wave at adoring crowds and appear at fancy parties. She doesn't wear expensive clothes and sports no jewelry. She has never once appeared as a prop by his side, giving the traditional adoring looks of a public wife. It is a masterful move because it means that Rey can't fail to meet expectations. She doesn't even try. Instead, she changes everyone's expectations entirely.
Kylo makes sure to capitalize on her growing popularity. He instructs his regime to regularly laud the Empress. Once a month, he himself praises her publicly. Not that she ever acknowledges it.
And then one day, just like that, Rey appears again unannounced. Kylo is sitting in his weekly military briefing with his top brass when the door opens and Rey stands on the threshold. The interaction that follows has all the warmth of a prisoner exchange.
"Emperor Ren." Rey nods coolly at him.
"Empress." He stands to his feet and nods back. He's determined to make a better showing this time. Especially in front of this particular audience. It's all alpha males in uniforms.
But did he not stand fast enough for her liking? Rey raises an eyebrow. "Am I interrupting something?"
"Of course. But by all means, go ahead." Kylo strives to appear magnanimous and thoroughly in control. But is anyone seeing how rattled he is? He certainly hopes not. But, damn, he's sweating now. His heart is pounding in his chest.
"Lothal needs a maternity hospital," Rey announces. "It has a rapidly growing population and the current facility cannot serve the public need. Quite a few war veterans and former troopers have settled on Lothal due to the large military academy and training base located on-world."
Kylo waves a hand dismissively. "Have your people talk to my staff about that."
"They did. The request was denied. So was the request for reconsideration. That's why I'm here." Rey's eyes sweep around the room at the assembled military high command. "These young, growing families are mainly your former soldiers, gentlemen," she says pointedly.
"On what grounds was the request denied?" Kylo asks, doing his best to sound utterly bored. He can posture too.
"Lothal has exceeded its budgetary infrastructure allotment for the year."
"Then raise private funds," he denies her request.
"Lothal is very poor. It is among the lowest quartile of per capita annual income in the Empire. There are no wealthy, philanthropic citizens to be had on Lothal," she persists. "Private funds are not an option."
"Next, are you going to tell me that Tatooine needs a new spaceport?" Kylo crosses his arms and complains. He's doing it mostly to look tough. He really doesn't care about hospitals in the Rim. Kylo cocks his head at Rey and challenges, "Is this going to happen every month?"
She stiffens at his push-back. She raises her chin. "It might." Glancing around the room at the sea of uniforms, she adds, "Perhaps instead of increasing the military budget you could shift some funds to the Rim."
"That's not happening," he shoots her down flat.
"Then you can expect to see me regularly going forward." Rey makes this sound like a threat. She's holding Luke's lightsaber again, he finally notices. The sight of her hand trembling slightly as it holds the sword reminds him of why it has come to this, with he and Rey barking at one another about official business across a crowded room.
Kylo relents. "Fine. Build the hospital. But I'm not paying for all of your pet projects. This is the exception, not the rule. Go find a way to pay for this sort of thing without public funds. I don't need you interrupting me to beg for credits."
It's a foolish thing to say because Rey takes him up on his suggestion. And just like that, Kylo loses the last of his leverage over Rey. Now there are no more reasons for her to barge in every so often to beam her Light on him. She still comes to Coruscant, but she meets with other people now. Because a few months later Rey announces a new invitation-only charitable foundation for Core mogul types to join. The select few approached to become members have the privilege of donating a few million credits towards worthy causes in the Rim. In return, foundation members receive a lot of public accolades, the goodwill of the Empress, and entrée into a private cocktail reception at the Coruscant palace.
Rey has neatly worked around him, Kylo sees. He's been outflanked.
And damn, he always gets her wrong. He can always be trusted to do or say the wrong thing where Rey is concerned. Determined to reverse that track record, Kylo surprises them both when he nonchalantly drops by her foundation's inaugural cocktail reception. He tells himself that doing so will only raise the stature of her little scheme and encourage more wealthy donors to sign up. That helps to supplement his budget and helps his subjects in the Rim. It's a win-win. But really, Kylo only shows up to see Rey.
That night, she greets him perfunctorily and thereafter keeps her physical distance at all times. Though they are in the same room, there are always a minimum of ten meters between them. Even after the last guest has left, Rey hides behind a veil of formal politeness that cultivates an air of ceremony. It's annoying. She addresses him as 'Excellency' and 'Emperor' when he tries to speak privately. It's as if she is addressing him in a letter, rather than having a conversation. What few words they exchange are a stilted, awkward discourse.
After a few terse minutes, he gives up. She wins. Kylo trudges back to his quarters to brood.
She used to run into his open arms. She used to reach up and pull him down for lusty kisses. She used to tease him playfully in bed and then talk for an hour afterward curled up in his arms naked. They both counted the days until her next Coruscant holonet appearance. In those few stolen hours when they would sneak away each week, he and Rey talked about all their plans for the future. It was as much personal as it was political. Everything from how many kids bedrooms to put in their palace to whether there should be proportional representation in the Senate. She knew his insecurities, he knew her worst fears. He tolerated all of her Jakku quirks and she looked the other way at his temper tantrums. Each trying hard to be understanding because they recognized that they needed some allowance for themselves. For truthfully, they both have somewhat extreme tendencies.
But all that incipient love, all that secret intimacy, and all that delicious hot sex is gone. In the wake of their spectacular breakup, there is . . . nothing.
To cope, Kylo throws himself into his work. Burying his mind in facts and figures, in proposals and reports, in meetings and official audiences. Kylo immerses himself in the mundane nuts and bolts of his Empire. He makes the trains run on time and viciously cracks down on crime. He keeps focused on small, achievable things as he waits for his major reforms to take effect. Kylo justifies it as wanting to avoid doing too much, too fast. But the truth is that Kylo despairs of the bigger picture of balancing the Force.
Rey is off spreading the Light in the Rim but he needs her in Coruscant with him. Nestor cheerleads for him regularly, as do his other knights. But it doesn't help. Kylo feels himself dipping deeper into despondency. He never wanted this job, but he has it and he wants to do it well. But in the wake of losing Rey, he doubts he can. His confidence is severely shaken.
The self-doubt is as much about him personally as it is about the Force. Because he found the girl promised to him by prophecy and he screwed it up. What kind of stupid move is that? His reflex to lash out with violence he understands. But the underlying self-destruction he does not. He ruined everything for himself. He gave in to Darkness in the worst way, heedless of the consequences.
If Snoke were around, Kylo would still be smoking from all his Force lightning. His old Master would be livid. Raging that Kylo had been unbalanced in the moment like some newbie Sith Apprentice. Snoke had preached long and hard that you control Darkness, you don't let it control you. Because Darkness can consume you and ruin it all. That's ultimately why Sidious had a deformed face and why Vader lived in a suit. Snoke lectured repeatedly that Darkness is the means and not the goal. Because if you allow yourself get swept away into the shadow side of the Force, it will corrupt your mind and ruin your body. You could end up a raging, snarling brutish beast like Maul. Darkness is dangerous, old Snoke had warned in his gravelly voice. Only the strongest of men can truly master it as a tool. And those who try but fail pay a horrible price.
Was choking Rey his Luke Skywalker moment? Kylo worries it was. And that means he's not up to the task of balancing the Force. He's too unstable himself. Kylo knew all along that he needed Rey to pull it off. But he hurt her anyway. What a fool he had been.
After he choked Rey, Kylo didn't bother to argue or put up a fight about her leaving him. He knew what he had done. And there is no undoing it. No amount of sorry can make it better.
So . . . two years later, he is still stuck in that same place. He is alone. Beset by regrets, in a deep depression, and going through the motions most of the time.
Off and on, he daydreams through scenarios of showing up on Tatooine to beg for forgiveness. But Rey won't want to hear it. And freezing her in the Force to make her listen is precisely the wrong tactic. Manhandling Rey is what got him into this situation in the first place. So while Kylo might fantasize about storming his desert palace to reclaim his lost love in a forcible seduction, he would never actually do such a thing. Those thoughts are just his aggressive feelings combined with his repressed sexual urges and his broken heart. They are an outlet of sorts. A Dark, passionate fairytale happy ending he thinks about as he lies in bed.
The loneliness and stress have taken their toll. He looks like Hell. Nestor even told him so this week. And then, the Second Knight started in on the same old refrain. Trust in the Force, Nestor always urges. If the Force wants you and Rey back together, then it will happen eventually. It's good advice, but two years in Kylo finds it hard to maintain optimism. This is when faith matters most, Nestor persists. You are being tested, the big knight contends.
I was tested, Kylo mopes. I was tested and I failed. And now, I'm afraid. He finally admits this aloud. Looking up man to man at his oldest ally, he admits it all. I'm afraid that it's too late. That I have failed you. Like Luke failed us.
I'm not afraid and don't you be afraid, Nestor answers as he claps him on his slumped shoulder. I fear nothing. All is as the Force wills it. The Second Knight shoots him a look of reproach. You know that better than any of us.
Yes, he does. He's a Skywalker, after all.
It's another long, lonely night. Kylo is keyed up and can't sleep, so he reaches for the Force. He sits before his grandfather's mask in meditation, hoping for guidance. What does he do now? How will he ever find balance? As usual, the Force refuses to yield up its secrets. Demoralized Kylo drags himself to bed.
He knows what's coming next. Here come his recurrent dreams of fear and regret. They are dreams of Rey cold, hungry, and alone in exile on Ahch-To. Dreams of her held fast by a crazed killer with a blaster to her temple. Dreams of himself waking rejected to an empty bed the morning after his mother died. Dreams of him choking Rey so hard that her neck breaks in two places. These unsettling images prey on his worst fears. That he will forever be alone thanks to his own actions. Unable to find the personal happiness he needs and incapable of balancing the Force. And then, he will be miserable and let everyone down.
These dreams are the past, Kylo tells himself when yet again he wakes up in a cold sweat. There is nothing to fear here because all those scenarios have already come to pass. He has confronted them and moved on. But somehow that knowledge is not reassuring. Because these dreams feel less like unresolved post-traumatic stress and more like a warning. It's like the Force refuses to let the past die.
Dejected, Kylo walks to the balcony off his bedroom and throws open the doors to walk out into the crisp Coruscant night. He stares out bleakly and wonders what Rey is dreaming of tonight. Does she ever wish things could be different between them? He does. But it's too late now.
