The Suppressor, Inner Rim

The holo-chamber was large, of course, because Snoke had far too much dignity to appear as anything less than monolithic when he spoke to his underlings. They must always be reminded of their place in the galaxy - and more importantly, of his place far above them. Like Palpatine before him, Snoke understood how to use aesthetics as a weapon.

He understood how to use tools, too.

Kylo Ren knelt before him, head lowered respectfully. His helmet had likewise been removed out of deference to the master who demanded to see his face, no matter how ruined or repulsive the sight. Indeed, Snoke found the deep burn scars that crossed the center of Kylo Ren's brow and carved through his cheek - almost an echo of the deeper scars that afflicted Snoke's own face, appropriately enough - to be a helpful reminder for Ren of his servant's failure to destroy the scavenger girl who had thus wounded him. He would have to recollect his defeat at her hands every time he saw his reflection or touched his skin. That resentment would help keep his anger strong.

"...were all gone, save for a message they'd left on a loop to transmit their pathetic plea for help to the galaxy. I destroyed that and silenced the Resistance," Ren intoned. He did not mention the memorial hologram for his father. He had destroyed that, too, so it was irrelevant. Just like Han Solo.

Snoke nodded, the expensive holonet transmitter in his fortress relaying the gesture instantly to the towering hologram of himself to which Ren gave his report.

"No matter," Snoke hissed. "Let them prattle. The more so-called 'allies' they recruit, the easier they make it for us to destroy those who would be disloyal to our new empire." He raised one skeletal hand and waved it in a dismissive gesture, then leaned down over Ren. "There is nothing left in the Resistance that matters to anyone - is there, my knight?"

"No," Ren said firmly.

Snoke smiled.

"You have reached the final stage of your ascension to the Dark," he said, his decaying voice a sibilant rumble of pleasure. "You have purged the conflict within you just as you have purged the last connection to the Light to which your former self once clung.

"Bendamin Organa-Solo is dead. Rise, Kylo Ren."

Ren did as he was bid, his face stiff beneath its scars but his chin held high with pride.

"Your final lessons can now begin. And with them will come the end of all that the Light Side of the Force once held dear."

"Then the Empire is ready to rise?" Ren asked, eager.

"No." Snoke's answer was a thunderous lash. Ren hunched down beneath the rebuke as his master continued more gently, "An empire is only an empire when its reach stretches across the galaxy. You must go, conquer more worlds. Drag more systems to their knees before us. Only when the First Order holds the galaxy in its chains can it be reborn into an Empire."

"Yes, my master," Ren said, bowing his head obediently.

Snoke nodded and released his servant, sinking back in his chair. As Ren walked away, the hologram that projected his majestic presence flickered out and vanished.

Ren maintained his steady, proud stride until he reached the edge of the room where another black-clad Knight of Ren was waiting.

Like Kylo, Vicul had removed his helmet as they were all expected to do when in Snoke's presence. Unlike Kylo, he was grinning. Unlike Kylo, he had his helmet clipped to his belt beside his lightsaber. The intricate tattoos that crawled across the young Zabrak's brown cheeks were more artistic than the brutal scars that marred Kylo's pasty skin as well, but it was his knife-blade smile that separated them more in that moment than any difference in species or aesthetic.

"Purged all your conflict, hmm?" Vicul said mockingly. "That's good to hear."

"Shut-up," Kylo growled.

They pulled their helmets on and fell into step together as they left the holochamber. Two stormtroopers marching down the hallway took one look at the Knights and immediately turned back around, marching as fast as they could get away with without it being classified as a run, fleeing around the corner.

Kylo glared after them, but his mind was elsewhere.

"Only it seems to me - and you understand I'm not questioning our master, of course," Vicul continued cheerfully, fastening the catches of his helmet, "it's just that he isn't here, and I am, standing right beside you - so I have to say...whatever it is you're feeling right now? It feels to me to be a lot like conflict…"

"Shut-up," Kylo said again.

"Turmoil, at the least. Yes, I would class that boiling little storm of discontent all bubbling up inside you as 'turmoil,' for sure."

"Shut. Up."

"Having second thoughts, are we?" Vicul taunted. "Unsure if we can live up to our great potential? Worried what will happen if we let the Supreme Leader down? Or maybe…"

Kylo stormed through another door. Despite the sharpness of the door servos in First Order architectures that had it snapping up with startling speed, it still barely moved quickly enough to avoid clipping him. Kylo ignored it.

He tried, and failed, to ignore Vicul as well.

"Maybe it's the Dark Side itself you're worrying about," Vicul suggested maliciously. "Afraid that even after all your struggle and strife and sacrifice, you still aren't good enough for the Dark. That you still aren't pure enough…"

They walked into Kylo's chambers. They were large for shipboard quarters, where space was always at a premium, but sparse: a bed, a desk with a data terminal and some scattered datacards, a counter that held various tools of armor care and cleaning. On a small platform set to display it in a place of honor rested the remnants of another helmet, that of the late Lord Darth Vader. Neither Knight gave either helmet a glance. Kylo stalked across the room and stopped in front of the narrow viewport, glaring at the stars on the other side.

"I'm not afraid," Kylo growled.

"No?" said Vicul. His voice was mild beneath the rasp of his helmet's vocodor. There was even a hint of laughter behind the menacing rasp. He poked at Kylo's tools before picking up a polishing cloth and flopping onto the smooth sheets of the other Knight's bed.

If Kylo was insulted by the proprietary ease with which Vicul intruder on his space, he didn't say anything. Just clenched his fists tighter and continued to glare at the distant stars.

"No," Kylo said.

Vicul started polishing the blades on one of his gauntlets. "That's good," he said. "Fear should be a tool in our arsenal, not a weakness in our ranks."

For a while there was no sound but that of Vicul's stolen polishing cloth gliding over his blades.

Eventually Kylo said, his voice low and tight, "You sense my turmoil over the revelation I experienced on Illum."

"When you killed your daddy?" Vicul's sugary-sweet voice was a blade thrust at Kylo's heart. He did not flinch.

"After," he said. Kylo glanced over his shoulder, saw Vicul sprawled across his bed, and scowled. He turned his scowl back to the stars and continued, "When I was fighting the scavenger…"

Vicul made a noise of disgust that his helmet turned into a growl of menace. "Her again?" he said. "Why are you so obsessed with some scrap-scrounger from a nowhere world…"

"She's my sister."

Vicul sat up abruptly. "What?" he barked.

Kylo nodded, his gaze still fixed on the stars as though he might be able to peer far enough through their darkness to find Rey on the other side.

"My little sister," Kylo said. His voice beneath the growl of his helmet's vocodor was soft - more with bewilderment than compassion, as though he still couldn't believe the words he was saying. "I thought I'd killed her…"

"We all did." Vicul's expression was invisible beneath his helmet, but his words held a heavy frown. One hand strayed towards the lightsaber at his belt.

"It's ironic, isn't it?" Kylo mused. "The moment that I stood in victory, Ben Solo finally dead at my blade...Breha returns from the grave to haunt me."

"That's one word for it," Vicul said. His hand fell away from his saber, but his tone didn't lighten. "So that's the source of your...turmoil? This sister?"

Kylo nodded. "I can't let Snoke find out about her." He finally turned to face Vicul. His scarred face was hidden behind his helmet, but the uncertainty in his tone was clear despite the auditory distortion. "Would he see it as a weakness? Or as a failure on my part, a betrayal?" he asked. "Or even another barrier to be overcome before I can truly ascend to the Dark? I can't chance it. Not when I'm this close to finally - finally - fulfilling my destiny…" He shook his head. "I have to kill her before Snoke discovers her identity and the connection between us."

Vicul nodded slowly. "Or you could turn her," he suggested.

"What?"

"Why not?" Vicul shrugged and rose, his movements languid, unconcerned. He stretched as though waking from a long nap and dropped Kylo's polishing cloth back on the counter. "She was strong enough to nearly kill you without a lick of training," Vicul observed. "That sounds like a worthwhile recruit to me."

"She doesn't remember who she is," Kylo protested. "I made sure of that years ago."

"Even better," said Vicul. To Kylo's confused frown he explained, "If she doesn't remember her past, she won't have to kill it to best it. She's already a blank slate, ready for a new identity to fall on her shoulders and finally give her sad little life meaning." Vicul spread his hands as though he were a teacher lecturing a roomful of promising students. "She'd be the perfect Knight...if you think you can pull her into the Dark?"

The last part was spoken like a challenge, smug and taunting. The way Kylo's father used to speak.

"Of course I can," Kylo snarled back instinctively. It was only after the words left his mouth that he realized Vicul's idea might actually have merit...maybe even more merit than Snoke himself could imagine. A smile spread slowly across the ruin of the face concealed beneath his gleaming black helmet. "Yes," he said, savoring the words and the prospect of his sister's fate alike, "at my hand, Breha will Fall."

"Or maybe she'll just kill you this time," Vicul observed. He leaned back against the wall beside the door, arms folded loosely over his chest. The little tilt of his head made him look like he was smiling even through the opaque surface of his mask. "That would be worth seeing too."

Kylo didn't dignify that taunt with anything but a withering look. He stalked out past Vicul, punching the doorframe as he passed.

Behind him, his fellow Knight's laughter rang through the halls.


Author's Note: I am aware that the Knights of Ren were given names and some sparse character details in TROS and the Kylo Ren comic mini-series. I have purposefully chosen not to use those names and details (save a few that correspond to their visual designs, since those seem to be unchanged from their brief appearance in TFA and thus deliberately not using them would just be pointlessly petty) in order to help differentiate these Knights-actual trained Force Users with lightsabers and Dark Side powers-from the crude cannon-fodder we saw in the third movie. I did attempt to, for the most part, choose names that somewhat correspond to/reference the ones used in canon in order to make it easier to tell which Knight is wearing which costume. If you have questions about which is which at any point, please don't hesitate to ask! Although if you do ask a question in your review, please remember to log-in first (or find this story on AO3 and ask there) because I cannot respond to anonymous reviews on FFnet.