"It became something of a tradition after that. Each time Lord Sidious sent assassins after Lord Vader, your grandfather would haul the bodies back to Coruscant and dump them on his Master's desk. Missing heads, limbs, and all." Vanee, Lord Plagueis' longtime servant, grins ghoulishly at the memory. "He never missed a chance to display his handiwork to his Master."
Lord Plagueis' other longtime servant, the dour Milo volunteers, "Lord Sidious hated that. He complained vociferously to Lord Vader—"
"Who told him that if he didn't want dead men in his office, he should refrain from sending death squads," Vanee finishes with twinkling eyes. "More caf, my lord?"
"No, thanks," Kylo declines for the third time. Any more caf and he'll be wired like he took a stim shot. That would be fine if he were at work ruling the First Order. But here, there's nothing to do all day except listen to Lord Plagueis' Sith acolyte servants tell war stories of bygone days. It's how he passes the time while he recuperates and plots his next move.
The big yeet on Exogol has left him with an ankle fractured in two places, some broken ribs, and a very bruised right shoulder. All the miscellaneous scrapes and scratches healed quickly thanks to a dip in a bacta tank. But the bones will take a full two weeks to heal. That has him killing time hanging out at Darth Plagueis' fancy villa.
His host only appears for about an hour a day. Darth Plagueis the Wise is 'working,' Kylo is told. Whatever that means. So the rest of the time, Kylo doomscrolls the holonet watching the newsfeed coverage of the crumbling First Order. When that puts him in too sour a mood, he hangs out with Milo and Vanee who pretty much bicker all day over endless cups of caf.
Vanee is the personable one who likes to gossip. He was Lord Vader's steward at Mustafar Castle. The much more circumspect Milo served Lord Sidious at the Imperial Palace on Coruscant. Both men were highly placed spies of Lord Plagueis for the duration of the Empire years. Plagueis may have been in exile since the junior Senator from Naboo rigged his own election as Old Republic Chancellor, but Plagueis is far from out of the action. If half of what Vanee claims is true, then Darth Plagueis has had a direct or indirect role in every major political crisis since the Separatists seceded from the Republic. The guy is an inveterate schemer, which makes Kylo admire him as much as he distrusts him. But for now, Plagueis is his benefactor and his host, so Kylo plays along. And that means endless afternoons like this one spent lounging around listening to two old men talk about people who died before he was born.
Plagueis' two attendants seem to live almost entirely in the past in the glory days of the waning Old Republic when the Sith were very much ascendant. Vanee even looks like a Sith. He wears dramatic formal black robes complete with ecclesiastical whimple. The outfit conceals all but his leonine face with sharp eyes, giving him a certain gravitas at first glance. That all dissipates, however, when you actually talk to the guy. Vanee has a happy-go-lucky, bumbling manner. He smiles and chuckles a lot as he bustles around, which only adds to the incongruous impression.
Vanee's longtime frenemy foil is Milo. This guy is downright dour, Kylo decides. Milo sits in determined silence while his counterpart prattles on. Then, every so often, Milo will spout off something quiet and thoughtful that's also usually bleak. As far as Kylo can tell, the guy's expressions span the gamut from pokerfaced to even more pokerfaced. And, hey, he's not a smiley sort of fellow himself. When he emotes, it's usually with a snarl. But at least he shows emotion. This guy is so reserved that he's downright Jedi. Like Vanee, Milo is ancient. Both men appear in their seventies but if you do the math, each has to be well over a hundred. How these guys survive seems to be a consequence of Plagueis' Dark magic. Apparently, he likes to keep his cronies around for old times' sake. Kylo can't tell if the two men like him or not, and he doesn't care. He's not a man used to being liked, especially by underlings.
Plagueis mostly ignores him, which surprises him. Actually, it verges on offending him. He just assumed that he was resurrected with a specific purpose in mind and that his savior Sith would put him to work immediately. Sith Masters are known to be harsh taskmasters. But not this one, it seems. And that makes Kylo increasingly suspicious that his main purpose is as bait. He's alive as a lure for Rey. Basically, he's everyone's tool. For like Darth Sidious, Darth Plagueis seems to be waiting to upgrade to Rey.
Plagueis does make a few cameo appearances each day. Today, he wanders in to hear Vanee speaking of Grand Moff Tarkin. The Sith Master decrees, "The man lacked nuance." Then, Plagueis wanders off to resume whatever he does in exile. He emerges again hours later to listen in on a lively debate. Vanee and Milo are ranking the best Jedi Masters of the late Republic. Plagueis tells them they're both wrong and that Dooku was overrated. In fact, he never wanted Dooku on Team Sith in the first place. He preferred Mace Windu but the man would not be swayed from the Jedi Order.
"That reminds me," Plagueis drawls, "Time to look in on our Jedi girl. Young Rey is quiet in the Force these days. Too quiet for my taste."
Kylo's eyes narrow. This is the first he's heard mention of Rey since he arrived. "Where is she?"
His host shrugs off the question. "It matters not. I can find her anywhere at will. I can never remember names or faces, but I never forget a Force imprint."
Uh oh. Kylo thinks he knows where this is heading. "She will never agree to join you." At least, he hopes not.
"Us. Join us," the old Master corrects him. Then he smiles blithely in Kylo's direction. "Don't underestimate me. Besides, I didn't expect her to give in on the first try. Women who are worth it take some effort. You must charm them or maybe scare them a little. It gives them a thrill, although they never admit it."
Kylo frowns. He doesn't like the sound of that. "We're still talking about the Force, right?" he says acidly.
Plagueis is coy in his response. "All persuasion requires a bit of seduction."
Kylo really doesn't like the sound of that. He leaps to his feet. It's too fast and his ribs ache and his ankle hurts. But he ignores those pains. "Leave her alone!" he growls.
The Snoke lookalike doesn't look the least bit threatened. Instead, he appears pleased. "All women want to be chased, Lord Ren. Those who resist the chase usually want to be chased harder."
What the Hell? "Leave her alone!"
"Jealous? Why, how Dark of you," old Plagueis smirks. "But never fear, my efforts are for your benefit, Apprentice . . . and for the will of the Force. Wish me luck," he trills happily as he begins to depart.
"There's no such thing as luck," Kylo grumbles as he shoots his host a dirty look. His underlings in the First Order know to fear that look. But here, everyone ignores him.
"Bring her home, Master," Vanee calls after the boss.
"Yes, yes, in time, in time . . . Now, leave me to my meditation. Projections require great concentration."
"Don't kill yourself like Luke did," Kylo jeers. But, on second thought, maybe he hopes the old fossil does expire from the effort.
Old Darth Plagueis stops in his tracks and levels him a pointed look. "I'm no rookiee." Then, he pulls up the hood of his cloak to settle it low over his features. It gives him maximum Sith gravitas as he sweeps from the room.
Watching Vanee smiles. When Plagueis is gone and Kylo has collapsed back into his seat, the old servant leans forward across the table to confide, "He's happier now than I can recall for a long, long time. Don't take this the wrong way, my Lord, but we're all glad for his sake that you died."
"Thanks," Kylo deadpans. Maybe he should be angsty over his own death and resurrection, but he's not. He takes it in stride and instead frets about the future. Specifically, his future and Rey's future.
Rey isn't going to go for any of this, he hopes. There's nothing to worry about, he tells himself as he sullenly resumes watching the media coverage lauding the triumph of the New Republic. Rey and her friends have won, at least for now. Why should she ally herself with a leftover Sith in exile and the deposed Supreme Leader? Rey got what she wanted all along—a decisive victory that will bring back a version of the Old Republic and its watchdog Jedi Order. So what's in it for Rey to help balance the Force? The Light is winning just now. Why concede anything to Darkness?
It's all thanks to Leia Organa's militant splinter group, the Resistance. That old warmongering Rebel princess was right, the headlines scream. The First Order was everything she warned about and more. For it turned out to be a front for the magical wizard Sith Emperor Sheev Palpatine's return. But with Darth Sidious now presumably gone and his interim stooge Kylo Ren dead in a last stand to defend his own position as Supreme Leader, the galaxy is free again. The Resistance leadership is hard at work on Coruscant planning free and fair elections with the cooperation of what remains of the New Republic government. Meanwhile, the decimated and largely leaderless remnants of the First Order are fast going the way of the surviving Imperials after Endor. Between the infighting over the absent command structure and the aggression by the enemy, there is chaos on First Order loyalist worlds. It won't be long before the Resistance wipes them out, Kylo estimates glumly.
The holovids from the Rim are actually pretty hard to watch. These are his people—his military and his civilian followers-being forcibly 'liberated' by the Resistance forces led by that traitor stormtrooper who took a lightsaber up the back in the Starkiller woods. Now, Kylo's never been the squeamish type about death of meaningless nobodies. His personal body count is plenty high, and that's not counting his battlefield tally. But still . . . these people's plight gnaws at him. For in many ways, their fate is the same as his. They have been duped, manipulated, and used. Tricked into serving a cause that was a ruse. Snoke and Sidious never wanted to help the Rim. They only wanted power. Those billions of disgruntled deplorables were merely a means to achieve their ends . . . just like he was. None of it sits well with him.
They need a leader. Kylo can't get the idea out of his head as he obsessively watches the footage. The obvious choice is him, of course.
Except he's still pretty wounded, without a sword or a ship to his name. Moreover, he's a soft hostage to an intimidating Sith Master who woke him from the dead but who can most assuredly send him back there again. And if ever Plagueis gets his hands on Rey, that may be just where he ends up. Because if Plagueis can reform their dyad that once reanimated Darth Sidious, Kylo is certain that his host will use that power for himself. Any self-respecting Sith Lord would. All his crap about balancing the Force is just another ruse to gain their trust. Kylo doesn't believe for one minute that Plagueis has been chilling here in the Unknown Regions for decades without a comeback plan.
He doesn't like where this is heading. For yet again, the two most powerful young people in the Force—the next gen Jedi and Sith—will be exploited for some leftover Dark Lord's aims. Well, Kylo's not falling for it twice. He hopes Rey feels the same way. Here's hoping she's basking in her victory and stays far, far away from Darth Plagueis.
His own plan is to keep his head down and mouth shut until he can heal and flee. Where to? He's not sure. Anywhere but the Resistance where they will put him on trial for Hosnia and half a dozen other war crimes Snoke aka Darth Sidious ordered. Kylo has no intent to be the poster child fall guy for the sins of the First Order. He's alive and that's a second chance he never thought the Force would grant him. So, he'll be damned if he squanders it in service of another Dark Master.
He meant what he told Plagueis. He's through being the Apprentice. But neither does he want poor Rey to take his place here at Plagueis' villa. Every chance he gets, he does his best to warn her.
Rey? Rey? Hear me, Rey . . .
He stretches his mind out in the Force, hoping to rekindle their bond. He hopes Darth Plagueis isn't listening in on everything he thinks and says. But that risk isn't going to stop him.
Rey? Rey, can you hear me?
She's the girl who plucked the saber from the snow and started swinging. The one so powerful that both he and Snoke felt her awakening. But as he fought her that first time, he wasn't trying to kill her. Part of him wanted to teach her and part of him wanted to be her. And now he knows why—she's the Imperial heiress, after all. And sure, she's a violent, abandoned, hurt girl with trust issues galore. She was cast off by her one-time hero Luke Skywalker who deemed her too Dark. Then, she played the Jedi anyway by surrendering for her own version of the Death Star throne room confrontation. It didn't go the way she thought it would. Or the way he thought it would, for that matter. Rey wouldn't join him and he refused to be the Light Side hero she had been looking for since she set off to find Luke Skywalker. It left them at an impasse. Soon afterwards, Darth Sidious showed up and things got really complicated.
Rey went to Exogol like a lamb to the slaughter, terrifyingly committed to the belief that the Light would triumph. Stubborn as always, she refused his help. But he showed up anyway since he wanted a role in the proceedings and he had his own revenge in mind. In the end, the old Emperor faked his death again and Rey succumbed from her efforts. For some inexplicable reason, he survived. But seeing Rey's lifeless body moved him in a way he still cannot explain. Because really, that sort of Jedi sacrifice had long been her goal. Rey was willing to risk it when she surrendered to Snoke on the Supremacy. And then again when she confronted Palpatine. A glorious heroic martyrdom was what that foolishly idealistic girl had been longing for all along.
She didn't die for him. She died for the Light. For the galaxy. For the Jedi. For a set of ideals and values he doesn't share.
But still, in the moment her mortal sacrifice felt like a gift. And holding her body, all he could think of was what he had seen in her memories when he read her mind. This girl was a fighter who scraped and clawed her way to survival in the desert. She did it in vain hope of meeting her parents. Instead she met her grandfather who wanted to steal her power. It was a terrible betrayal of a girl who had suffered too much already.
He too has suffered and been betrayed. First by his murderous uncle and then by his phantom master Snoke. And so, Rey's fate awoke a great empathy in him. For as usual, despite his many differences with Rey, all he could see were their parallels. She might be fine with how things turned out, but he wasn't. And that's why he impulsively healed her with the last of his strength, mimicking the skill she demonstrated on Endor. He figured that she ought to be the one to live. He'd only fuck it all up again anyway. He always fucks things up. That's the Skywalker way.
Rey . . . Rey, hear me . . .
He tries again. Doing his best to channel all the ache in his broken leg into Force power.
Don't come. Don't listen to Plagueis. It's a trap. Sidious is alive. Do you know that? I swear he's alive. Don't believe he's dead. He has died before. Rey? Rey? Please hear me. Stay away and be safe.
But he fails to make a connection. He's disappointed but undeterred. He will bide his time to try again. Pretending to listen to the aimless, if entertaining, chatter of Plagueis' elderly servants. Playacting being a docile, convalescent houseguest whenever the resident Sith wanders in.
Which he does now. Kylo learns that Darth Plagueis has purchased a new painting and he's sending Vanee to Coruscant next week to collect it. Kylo dutifully admires the image of the painting that its proud new owner shows off. Art is not his thing, and this work is way too abstract for him to wrap his head around. But apparently, his host has been waiting decades for this particular piece to come onto the market and he had to outbid several museums and pay an outrageous premium to win. I play the long game in everything, Darth Plagueis brags with irritating smugness. Kylo keeps it to himself, but he thinks anyone foolish enough to pay seventy-four million credits for anything that shade of orange is just asking to get swindled. And what's the point of living so large out here in the middle of wild space?
Talking of art segues into talk of someone they all know named Astral who lives on Coruscant. Kylo is only half attending the conversation when suddenly he senses a familiar presence in the Force. "Rey . . ." He's so surprised that he says her name aloud.
Old Plagueis, who is lounging across the room, grunts and looks up. "What is it?"
"Rey . . ." He looks to Plagueis and admits what everyone is about to find out. "She's coming." She's near and getting nearer fast.
"You sense her?" The creepy Muun frowns. He looks perturbed. "Strange that I do not."
"I was bonded to her. The bond is gone, but the recognition remains." That's Rey. He'd know that mind anywhere in the Force. And, oh, it feels good to sense her again.
The old Sith closes his eyes and concentrates a moment before he agrees, "Uhm . . . yessss. She is coming. Feel that Light like a beacon to your mind. Like the first streaks of dawn in the night sky."
Actually, the advent of Rey feels more like a thundering herd of banthas in his brain. She has always been like this—impossible to ignore and thoroughly disruptive to his psyche. "Rey . . ." The name slips out again, for he is filled with a mix of anticipation and dread. Whatever trap Plagueis has set, it worked. And now, things are much worse. Kylo has to fight the reflex to panic. For who knows what's coming next? Did they both escape the Apprentice Darth Sidious only to fall prey to his Master, Darth Plagueis?
"Should we leave?" It's Vanee addressing his boss.
"Why?" nervous Kylo whirls to demand.
The longtime servant is frank. "If she's going to dash in here, find you alive, and throw herself into your arms for a kiss, we should leave. No need to spoil such a nice moment." Vanee is at least pretending to expect some sort of happy reunion.
But whatever Rey does, it won't be that. Kylo shakes his head. "That's not going to happen."
"Will she cry? I always cry at happy endings," silly Vanee gushes some more.
Kylo shoots him a quelling look. "You've got this all wrong." How his grandfather managed to tolerate this old fool for years is beyond Kylo's comprehension. He himself is tempted to Vader-choke the guy at least twice daily.
"Come on, Milo," Vanee tugs firmly at his colleague's sleeve. "Let's give the family a moment alone. If three's a crowd, five is far too many."
"Rey's more likely to light her sword than she is to kiss me," Kylo sighs.
"Oh, dear. Swords?" Vanee gulps.
"Do be careful of the artwork," stern Milo warns.
"Yes, indeed. No one dies today, most especially my art." That's Plagueis chiming in. The old Sith Master has moved to the window to watch for Rey's approaching ship.
"Lord Ren, we just patched you up. You are in no shape for a fight," Vanee frets.
"Neither was Vader in all those assassin stories you told me," he replies, feeling a little dissed that he's considered a lightweight.
Again, Plagueis weighs in. "No one is fighting in my house."
Goofy Vanee looks positively crushed at the possibility, his romantic notions clearly dashed. "I thought this would be a happy moment . . ."
"First thing she's going do when she storms in is light her sword," Kylo predicts. "Violence is her thing." Rey shoots first and swings first. And, all in all, he likes that about her.
"But she's the Light, right?" Vanee objects weakly.
"The angry Light. The first time I met her, she pumped blaster rounds right at me. She gave me this scar," Kylo points to this face. "She is a very violent woman."
Crusty Milo is nonplussed. "These are violent times. And we are the Sith. We can handle it."
"Indeed. She's perfect for you, Apprentice," Darth Plagueis remarks. The sound of approaching ion engines passes overhead and Kylo limps over to join his host at the window to look out. "Here she comes," the old Sith points high in the sky. And sure enough, there's the Millennium Falcon descending to land.
"I will go attend to things in the infirmary," Vanee announces to no one in particular.
"Coward," his colleague Milo jeers. "I'm staying. I want to meet this formidable young woman," he declares.
"Oh, alright," his grandfather's old retainer reluctantly gives in. "I guess I'll stay too."
Kylo limps back over to collapse in his chair so he can get off his broken leg. Vanee and Milo hover at the far doorway looking like they expect to be dismissed by their Master at any moment. Darth Plagueis turns from the window but keeps his place of towering command over the room. He looks especially pleased, Kylo judges. It makes him even more worried.
Soon enough, into the room dashes Rey of Jakku, the one-time scavenger fugitive Jedi wannabe and more lately Palpatine's granddaughter. She looks like she's heading to trade scrap at the Nima Outpost, with her staff in one hand and a loaded knapsack thrown over the other shoulder. Rey wears her worn Resistance jacket over her desert rags and her boots have seen better days. She appears very out of place in the sophisticated, ultra-luxe surroundings she storms into with all the subtlety of a star destroyer coming out of hyperspace.
"Oh, good, I've been hoping you would turn up. Come in, come in." Darth Plagueis is so pleased, he's downright jolly.
Rey stomps right past their host. She only has eyes for him as she stops short in her tracks to peer from across the room. "Ben!" She says his name—his real name—and his heart skips a beat like always. "Ben, you're alive!" she gapes.
He gapes back. "R-Rey." She's more handsome than pretty, with a square face offset by slashing brows. And that's fitting, for there is nothing delicate and traditionally feminine about this girl. Life has made her tough, but he admires that grit. Force, she is a sight for sore eyes.
She must feel likewise. Her elation shows on her face and bleeds out into the Force. For as always, this girl maintains few mental shields. She has no guile. She's too direct.
"You're hurt," she worries, eyes taking in his orthopedic boot and his arm in a sling.
"It's nothing." You were worth it, he thinks to himself.
How does he play this? What does he do? As they both stare transfixed, every other eye in the room darts between them. Evidently, the drama of their past is well known.
Plagueis steps in to take credit. "As promised, here is he is. Alive and well."
"You kept your promise," Rey sounds shocked.
Instantly, Kylo is wary. "What did you agree to?" he hisses.
She disavows a deal. "Nothing. I agreed to nothing."
"Precisely right," smooth Darth Plagueis inserts himself again. "This isn't a business arrangement, this is a homecoming. At long last, my daughter is delivered to me. Let us welcome her to the family, Lord Ren."
Wait—whaaat? "Daughter?" Kylo chokes out.
"Lord Ren?" Rey whispers back.
"Yes. You, Lord Ren, are my great grandson and Lady Rey here is my daughter. She's a Skywalker of a sort. A child of the Force. Don't believe what Sidious told you about her being his granddaughter. That's rubbish! I made her like I made your grandfather."
"We're related?" Rey asks weakly. "Ben, you're his kin as well?"
"Well, naturally," Plagueis answers for him. "I created the Skywalker line long ago. I think that makes you cousins of some kind, or maybe you're some sort of aunt. I'm not sure."
"Oh." Rey looks as crestfallen as he feels at this bizarre news. "That's . . . uh . . . wonderful," she puts a brave face on.
But he immediately accuses, "That's a lie!" He . . . er hopes.
That's their host's cue to intone, "Search your feelings," with maximum glee. "You will know it to be true." The cretin Plagueis draws out his vowels with relish. He's loving this little scene.
Well, fuck. Kylo fumes. Shit like this only happens in his family. And what's worse, usually it's true. But he sticks to his guns and complains, "Even if what you claim is fact, this isn't some blood relation."
"We are a family," Plagueis proclaims staunchly. "Reunited at long last. My dear," he practically coos to Rey, "everything you have ever longed for is here. A family, a home, a teacher, and a—"
"Cousin?" Kylo snorts. "Hell no!"
Plagueis shoots him a look. "This is your only warning, Lord Ren. More of that and I will discipline you as my Apprentice."
Rey looks further dismayed. "You're Lord Ren now? Kylo Ren? Not Ben?"
Uh . . . How does he answer that?
"He calls you his Apprentice," she whispers. "Is that true?"
"No!" He's through being anyone's Apprentice.
Listening Plagueis misunderstands why she's asking. "Oh, never mind about that Rule of Two bit. I broke with that decades ago. I haven't been a proper Sith since before the Clone Wars. Never fear, Daughter, you can be my Apprentice as well."
Crafty old Plagueis might be an expert manipulator, but in this instance, he has failed to read the room. Rey whirls on him to rage, "I never agreed to be your Apprentice! I never told you to resurrect him! There is no deal!"
"Think of him as a present," Plagueis improvises.
Kylo blinks. He's taken aback at Rey's vehemence. Did he misread her when she first walked in? She seemed so genuinely happy to see him. "You want me dead?"
"No, no," Plagueis jumps in. "She was still deciding when I left her. She needed time to think it over."
"You did?" He's hurt.
"It depends," she answers, brutally honest as always. "Who are you? Are you Kylo Ren or Ben Solo?" Rey demands.
That's a big question. Who is he? He's both of those men and always has been where Rey is concerned. But he knows what she wants to hear him say. She wants the story of Exogol to be Ben Solo redeemed to the Light, standing by her side as a true believer like she is. Fighting for truth, justice, the Old Republic, and the Jedi way. When, in actuality, he was mostly there fighting for revenge and to save his Empire . . . and to save her, of course. She was his other half, his better half, in their dyad in the Force. So Kylo Ren showed up at Exogol seeking to vanquish his enemy Sidious, to keep his position as Supreme Leader, and to save the girl he's been chasing since Takodana.
Rey's face is intense as she prompts him. "Well?"
So many people have intentionally misled this girl. Kylo refuses to do so now. And if she rejects him and leaves, maybe that's for the best. She needs to get out of here anyway. Plagueis is not trustworthy.
So who is he—Ben Solo or Kylo Ren? He looks her in the eye as he answers, "I'm both men."
Darth Plagueis beams at this equivocation, but his attendants clearly disapprove. Across the room, old Vanee wrings his hands while the curmudgeon Milo face palms in a rare show of reaction.