Alrighty y'all, let's call this what it is: kink for the sake of kink. I wondered a long time ago how the ending of Rise of Skywalker would have been different if Rey had struck down Palpatine and fallen to the Dark Side. This is my answer to that question. Heeeeeeavy Reylo ahead. I do plan to continue sooner or later, so no lemons yet, but rated for future.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Star Wars or any of its characters, I just enjoy playing with them.
Content warnings: Kink ahead, Dark!Rey, possibly dubious consent ish? Could be read that way.
Recommended listening (if you're in to that sort of thing): Closer by Nine Inch Nails, particularly the In This Moment cover version.
R&R, enjoy!
A brutal, anguished cry of pure rage and hatred split the sky, and Ben knew something had gone very, very wrong. The Force around him gave a great heave and roiled like boiling water. Everything around him felt corrupted, blackened; and the air crackled and sizzled with raw power of an unknown, dark origin, and Ben felt fear for the first time he could remember since he was a child. The faint light that had guided him this far was swallowed up in a great maw of blood-soaked darkness that practically seemed to lick its ethereal lips at the effort.
Rey?! He searched desperately for the little glimmer of light, the little spark, the moth-fluttering, candle-flame warmth in the back of his mind that had always been her, that had persistently reminded him of the good in him. The little light that he had long sought to quash and stamp out, and then that he had clung to in desperation in the dark, was gone. She was gone. He gulped. Here, in this god-forsaken place, the last light he grasped for withered and died, snuffed out in the very heart of the hell that was Exegol.
The Knights of Ren closed in around him and Ben raised his hands in surrender, accepting that without a weapon, he was clearly outmatched. He could not divide his attention between all of them while his mind reached out in desperation for any sign of her light left in the Force. A Knight of Ren standing behind him prodded him sharply in the back with a blaster and Ben stumbled forward.
He was led into an enormous, cavernous room, and dark cheers resounded and echoed around him from every direction. The Knights of Ren unfolded around him, and Ben's legs suddenly gave out from under him. He fell to his knees and gazed up at the scene before him. From an infernal machine suspended from the cavern ceiling hung the withered, broken body of who he recognized as the once great Emperor Palpatine, the last mighty Sith Lord. Standing before the mangled, wretched corpse was the little antagonistic junk-rat from Jakku, a lightsaber crackling with a dangerously unregulated flow of energy in her hand, casting a sickly white-blue light across the contorted features of the grim cadaver. Something had snapped, much like a twig, inside her, twisting and roiling with uncontrolled power. To the echoing cheers of the assembled cultists she threw the lightsaber unceremoniously to the floor; a sickening crack filled the air as the hilt broke and splintered into pieces, the kyber crystal bouncing along the cavern floor with a skittering clinking sound. A silence settled over the cavern, deep and momentous, as she turned to the gathered droves of cloaked, hooded adherents of the Sith.
"Today," she shouted, her voice filled with rage, "you have not an Emperor, but an Empress!" The gathered crowd roared their approval as she turned and moved towards Ben. He looked up into her eyes, glowing the Sith gold and full of unrestrained fury. She stopped just short of him and curled her fingers into the air tightly, raising her fist before her, and Ben could feel the air leaving his lungs. He felt the intrusion of her probing his mind like nails on the inside of his skull. "Ben Solo." His name came out almost as a sultry hiss, dripping with the darkness that now emanated from her. The darkness flowing in her had sharpened her features, and the allure of power and darkness and woman heightened his senses to her. She turned from him and approached the great black, jagged throne, ascending the steps to the seat and draping herself languidly across it.
"How often have you dreamed about this, Ben?" His name again in that sultry hiss. "How long have you wanted this, both me, and the throne?" Her hands worked the ties holding her hair loose. She tossed her head back and let her long hair flutter around her. "Join me, Ben Solo. Rejoin the Dark Side and rule the galaxy by my side. We are a dyad in the Force; we were destined to rule together, you and I." Perched on the throne she looked like everything he had ever wanted in life. Power and her, together, placed upon an altar to the Dark Side of the Force. At last, he could have them both. It was all too much for the fragile little light left inside him, and he felt it die to his own voice echoing, "let the past die. Kill it, if you have to." Ben Solo was once again dead, and only Kylo Ren remained.
"Rey…"
"Empress Palpatine," she snarled, jolting upright on the throne at his insolence. Her fingers curled in the air once more, one by one, into a fist. She tightened the fist and Kylo Ren sank to his knees. He felt her probing his mind and resisted her on instinct. He strained and struggled for air as she rose and stepped closer, holding her fist parallel to his face. One hand reached for the lightsaber she still held concealed behind her back. Using the hilt she forced his head back, bringing his gaze up to look her straight in the eye, and caught the tell-tale flickering of gold there in his black eyes. The grin that crossed her lips was nothing short of sinister. She raised her fist, and with it, Kylo Ren was pulled upwards, back to his feet, almost. He stood, hunched, so he was nose to nose with her, the lightsaber hilt pressed into his chest and her fingertips a flick away from the igniter. A small amount of air returned to his lungs as she kissed him fiercely, possessively, igniting a fire in him that threatened to blaze out of control. His instinct was to grip her, to grab her and pull her closer and deepen the kiss, but she held him firmly in place, her grip never wavering. One slender hand had fisted itself in the front of his torn and bloodied tunic, as though he needed to be held in place further. When she bit his lower lip with her sharp little teeth, almost drawing blood, he shuddered involuntarily.
As suddenly as the kiss began, he was back on his knees before her, breathless once more. His dark eyes met her golden ones, and a tremor of fear and anticipation ran down his spine at what he saw behind them.
"Ben Solo is dead." He affirmed grimly. "Only Kylo Ren remains." She circled him like a hawk, pausing briefly behind him and releasing her fist. Kylo Ren fell, choking and wheezing, to the ground. A pair of red-clad Praetorian Guards descended on him and yanked him violently to his feet, forcing him forward behind the new Empress as she descended through a doorway and deeper into her new palace cut into the very heart of Exegol.
Kylo Ren found himself imprisoned in a grandiose sitting room, furnished all in fine, black fittings; part of a larger suite of rooms, from what he could tell. He had been stripped, scrubbed, and dressed in black finery by a pair of the new Empress's attendants. Rey herself had disappeared, led away deep within the sprawling palace complex. He could feel her through the Force connection he had forged himself; waves of dark power rolled off her as though she stood before him still, predatory and dangerous. He could feel her as she approached, and the fear and anticipation of what awaited him sent another shiver crawling down his spine. In another room behind him a door whooshed open and slammed back shut; he heard the clicking of the locking mechanisms outside as the door to where he sat slid open and the Empress stood before him again. The sharp click click click of heels on the highly polished marble floor told him she was approaching him, and he was thoroughly unprepared for the sight of her when she rounded him and stopped.
Rey had been given the same brushing-up he had undergone; she wore a fitted, low-cut slip of a gown of black satin, slit up both sides clean to her hips and belted with a wide silver and onyx belt. Heeled black boots climbed up her lithe legs to her thigh, and silver bracelets encircled her arms and wrists. A wide silver and onyx collar encircled her throat, and in her loose dark hair there was nestled a crown studded with broken, corrupted shards of glowing red kyber crystal. She looked every inch the Empress of the Final Order. Kylo Ren felt his throat tighten and a stirring within him, primal and raw, egged on by his desire for her and the power she offered. Flashes of her skin as she moved made him absolutely hungry for her. One slender finger dragged along the scar on his face, the one she had given him, before she seized his chin and tilted his face up. There was a flash of defiance in his eyes and the desire to break him rose in her.
"So then," she intoned, "have you considered my offer?" He swallowed and she released his face to allow him to speak.
"I have," he replied thoughtfully, "and I would be honored to serve you and rule by your side, Empress." Kylo Ren rose from his seat and knelt before her, his eyes downcast. Her smile was crimson poison reflected in the marble.
"I think I like you on your knees for me, Kylo Ren," she said blithely, grinning. He looked up at Rey, half-startled and decidedly aroused, interest flickering momentarily across his features as she smirked at him, cocking an eyebrow.
"As you wish, Empress," he replied, barely disguising the heat in his voice. She was not fooled.
"And I certainly think you're enjoying it, too."
"My only desire is to serve." Rey had begun to circle him like a particularly persistent predator, the soft click-click of her heels on the marble sending shockwaves through him as she walked. He felt her probing his mind, less forcefully than before, and he yielded to her, allowing her a glimpse into the dark fantasies working their way through his every thought. She stopped her circling behind him, facing away. A hand came up to fist itself in his raven-black hair, yanking his head backwards. She looked over her shoulder to meet his eyes with a smirk. He growled in warning. She paid him no heed. Kylo Ren felt the pull of the Force bonds she wove around him, pinning his arms to his sides and holding him in place. Her heels clicked across the marble as she walked away, stopping at a little side table and pouring herself a glass of wine from a carafe placed there. She crossed the room again and settled herself in the chair before him. He felt the press of her heel against his flesh before he'd seen her move; a flicker of Force manipulation to disguise her action lingered. Her foot was square in the middle of his chest, her heel biting into his sternum through the black tunic he wore, and he dared look in her eyes again.
"Serve me you shall, then," she drank deeply from the glass, never breaking eye contact, and licked her ruby lips, leaning forward. The action pressed her heel further into his chest like a blade and Kylo Ren growled dangerously. She smiled that sly little smile of hers and Kylo Ren felt the urge to bite it off her lips. She was further and further reducing him to little more than an instinctual beast, wildly fighting prey, like the mouse that bites the snake before the snake can consume it, and he realized that had been her plan, to drive him wild with want of her. His lips curled into a dark snarl. The longtime hunter had become the hunted. Very well; if it was power games the little minx wanted, power games she would have.
"And how shall I serve you, Empress?" He growled out through partially gritted teeth. Her foot moved, settled back on the marble with a clink of her heel. She leaned forward, a hair's breadth away from his face. Her lips brushed his as she spoke.
"However I damn well please."