Let the dream begin. Let your darker side give in.


Kylo leads the girl through the dark halls of the Steadfast, her hand clasped in his. All of these years — all of the dreams, promises, and pain they both suffered on their own — and at last, she is here.

He would do anything for Rey, and now she knows it. Part of her still fears him, but she is intrigued by the monster in the mask — he can tell. Her essence in the Force, so bright and wondrous, calls to him, just as his darkness calls out to her.

They will be balance personified. He is certain of it.

When they enter his quarters, Kylo keeps his eyes on Rey, pleased by the open-mouthed awe that she does not try to hide. She takes it all in — the black drapes half-drawn across the viewport, the luxurious bed and its golden posts, the old-style chandelier high in the ceiling — and turns back to face him. "This is where you live?"

"Where we live," he corrects. It is new even to him; he only abandoned his old, austere room this morning in favor of the new suite. Kylo may care little for his own comfort, but Rey deserves every luxury she has never had. "Are you satisfied?"

Rey lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. "Satisfied? Are you serious?"

Kylo frowns, though he knows she cannot see it beneath his mask. "I promised I would care for you."

"Caring for me and spoiling me are two very different things."

"And if I wish to do both?" Kylo reaches for her hand again without waiting for a reply. "Come."

He leads her deeper into their quarters, down a little hallway, and stops just before the painting that hangs on the wall. He pulls Rey in front of him, curling one arm around her waist and draping the other across her chest. It is a beautiful, haunting piece of art that lies before them: Rey in dazzling white robes, double-bladed lightsaber in hand, and an unmasked Kylo holding her close, mismatched eyes on full display.

"I had a vision," Kylo explains softly, voice rasping through his vocoder. "In all the galaxy, only you are my equal. We will set things right."

Her voice is little more than a whisper. "Set things right?"

"Peace," he clarifies. "All your life, the galaxy has been at war. Yes?" She nods. "The Sith legends speak of a dyad in the Force — two beings more powerful than life itself. One dark, one light." He turns his head, lets the cool metal of his mask brush her temple. "I am your darkness, little Kira, and you are my light. Together, we will end the galaxy's futile struggle to pick one side."

This close to one another, Kylo can feel the shortness of Rey's breath when she says, "I'm not a Jedi."

"And I am not a Sith. That is why we will succeed."

"And the Force?"

He opens his fist, splaying his hand over her heart. "I will teach you how to wield it, and how to be its instrument."

They lapse into silence. Rey studies the painting, Kylo studies Rey.

It is Rey who speaks first and breaks the silence. "Your eyes. Have they always looked like that?"

Slowly, Kylo releases her, allowing her to turn and face him. "No. Many years ago, a man I trusted tried to kill me as I slept. Luckily, I awoke in time, and I cut him down instead. It was the darkest thing I had ever done. When I next looked into a mirror, one eye had been transformed into this — the telltale color of a Sith." He huffs. "It is my punishment, I suppose."

Rey frowns. Slowly, she reaches for Kylo, placing one hand on either side of his mask. At her questioning look, he nods. Her fingers find the latches and press down. With a quiet hiss, the mouthpiece moves forward, and she gently pulls the helmet from his head. Rey looks right at him — at his eyes. "Nothing that beautiful can be a punishment."

Either she is right, or too many years on Jakku have left her sunblind. Kylo has more faith in the latter. Still, he will take her kindness as a monster does — eagerly, and already craving more.

"You must have talented painters in the First Order," Rey remarks, "if they were able to capture me so well just by your description."

Kylo looks past Rey, meeting the eyes of her likeness over her shoulder. "I painted this myself. No one has seen me without the mask in eleven years." He looks back at Rey. "Except you."

Rey takes in a breath. If Kylo could not grasp the essence of her thoughts in the Force, he could easily read the amazement in her eyes. "You're an artist?"

Suddenly, caught in her gaze, he is the loathsome Ben Solo once more. He must force himself to not give into his old awkwardness, even though he can feel his cheeks burning. No matter how many years separate Kylo from Ben, Kylo cannot rid himself of the tortured artist still buried deep inside. "Sometimes."

Rey turns back to the painting, surely seeing it with new eyes. "I like to draw, too."

Just like that, all of Kylo's discomfort vanishes. Of course they share this, too. Are they not two halves of one soul?

"You will have to show me sometime," Kylo says softly. Rey nods.

Then her stomach growls so loudly that Rey's cheeks turn bright red.

Kylo says nothing, just reaches for her hand once more and leads her back to the central chamber. Dinner awaits them at his table.

Eating with Rey reminds Kylo how often she has gone without food. Rage burns beneath his skin, boils his blood. He would kill Unkar Plutt again, if he could, make his death slower and more painful this time. But he cannot blame Plutt alone for Rey's plight; Kylo himself is also responsible. He should have been stronger, killed Snoke sooner, and brought her to him years ago.

That is all in the past, though. What matters now is the future, and Kylo's future is Rey.

When they are finished eating, exhaustion seems to come crashing over Rey. She barely stifles a yawn, blinking sleepily. A surge of protectiveness fills Kylo at the sight. He stands and moves to her side, sliding her chair back with the Force before sweeping her into his arms.

Rey lets out a startled sound of protest. "I — "

Kylo hushes her. It is a short walk to the bed, and she is feather-light in his arms. He will not make her walk.

He tucks her in with all the gentleness he knows she has never received, easing the ties from her hair. Her eyes are nearly closed now, and he leans in — hesitating only a moment — before kissing her forehead.

"Sleep well, little Kira," he says. She murmurs softly, a contented smile on her face.

Kylo rises. He dare not sleep at her side yet, even though the thought of doing so makes his heart ache with longing. No; Rey must ask this of him.

He heads for his meditation chamber, determined to keep himself from second-guessing all that transpired these last few days.

He leaves his mask behind.