Then...
A red sun had risen in the sky that morning, clouds shaded in hues of crimson and coral. Blood was spilled the night before at a small village, of which the elves from Alderaan learned after it was too late, and the innocent lives had already been claimed.
Han Solo along with his son Ben, the King and young Prince of Alderaan, led the company of a dozen men there just before sunrise, discovering the brutal tactics in the massacre belonged to one race in Middle Earth. The word of orcs descending from Dothamir into the valley had spread amongst the realms like a rabid sickness, rumored to be led by a great pale orc whose vile reputation ceased to never know restraint.
They piled what was left of the bodies into a heap at the center of the village and burned them. The potent smell of charred human and orc flesh filled their nostrils. A dense cloud of black smoke ascended from the mound, its heat blurring their vision of the sun.
Han took a few of their men with him to search the outskirts of the village, hoping to find survivors that might have fled into the nearby thicket. Ben stayed behind with the ones who remained, his eyes never leaving those of the dead. Not only had there been men found amongst the deceased, but there were women and children also. If he were to close his eyes he could be certain that he would hear their screams; although their voices wouldn't have been the only ones calling to him.
He stared into the sparks as the flames climbed to the summit of the corpses, envisioning the figure of who he saw and heard in his darkest dreams: aphotic in appearance and always surrounded by shadow and flame, his voice one of an ancient enemy.
"Excuse me, my Lord."
Heeding to the neurotic edge in his subordinate's voice, Ben cast aside his emotions and looked away from the burning heap to see Mitaka, his captain, approaching. "What is it, Mitaka?"
The other elf cleared his throat and swallowed, reluctant to be the bearer of such news. "We found one of them alive, sir."
Ben cocked his head, brows furrowed. "One of them," he sneered. "As in man or orc?"
Mitaka nodded, his motion barely visible. "An orc, sir. Your father wishes to bring him back to Alderaan for questioning."
Ben snarled at the newfound knowledge. Of course, he thought.
His father would insist that they bring the filth home for a proper interrogation rather than take what was needed then and dispose the vermin into the pile with the rest of its kind, even though cremation was far from what the creature deserved. He would have rather left the orc to rot and be picked apart by birds and other species of scavengers. But Ben wasn't as merciful to their enemies as his father who would pardon them if they wished to cooperate and set them free.
Ben leveled his chin and nodded for Mitaka to show him to the prisoner in question, nostrils flaring with his jaw set. He would need the patience if Han meant to keep the orc alive after; however, this time, he hoped that it wouldn't be the case.
They were met by Han and his group behind one of the settlement's smaller in-size shanties with a straw-covered roof outside the village, where the orc stood amidst the assemblage of red and gold elven armor, its hands bound at the wrists behind its back, and safely guarded by two other elves.
Ben was surprised to see it taller than the average orc, standing nearly shoulder height to its guards, when they typically reached children-sized. Its hair was drawn back from its face and hung in tightly-braided dreads that draped past its broad shoulders, concealed by its barbaric armor. It measured his every move with jaundiced eyes as Ben approached, snarling and revealing its rows of razor-sharp fangs.
He shared a look with its keepers and silently addressed them both with a brief nod, snubbing the advisory of Han's frown. Acknowledging the subtle command of his leader, the elf in which stood to the right of the prisoner forced the orc to its knees, jarring the crook of its leg with his heel. Smug, he watched the orc fight to free itself as the guard seized hold of its dreads, the blade of a dagger held to its throat, demanding the orc's submission.
"It is time for all foul things to come forth." Ben's voice was low when he spoke and moved to stand closer to the orc, hands curled at his sides in fists. "You have descended upon our lands and have taken lives to those who are innocent. Why are you here?"
The orc growled at his words and thrashed its head, striving to free itself of the guard's grip. When the orc neglected to escape and finally spoke, its response was less than accommodating to Ben's question.
"I do not answer to dogs, elf," the orc seethed.
Ben grunted and raised a brow at the creature's insult.
"I would not antagonize him," its keeper hissed, urging the dagger further into the creature's cankered flesh. "Now answer the question."
Ben continued to hold the orc's fearsome gaze but the orc was persistent and demonstrated little to no signs of surrender, guaranteeing its head would be lost to him before the interrogation was over.
Unmoved by the response to his son's use of aggressive tactics, Han joined Ben at his side. "Tell us what we need to know," Han asserted in a voice that was more affable, "and I can guarantee that you will have your freedom."
Stunned by the offer at first the orc leveled its expression, trying the elves' patience further as it thought to reconsider its choice to stay mute. It was Ben who noticed the unsubtle shimmer of mischief in its eyes when the orc finally decided to indulge all that it knew, its tone ominous.
"Death is upon you all," the orc mused, snickering at its own humor. "The flames of war are upon you, as our time to rise above is finally coming again." The orc paused to consider their crestfallen faces and spoke slower. "My master serves no one. And we will no longer be forced to bow before you."
"What are you talking about?" Ben seethed, baring his teeth.
"Don't you understand, elf?" The orc sneered. "War is coming to you all and your world will burn. Do you understand now? Death is upon you all! Death is -."
Ben's sword was drawn before the orc had a chance to finish its sentence, severing its head with a clean cut from its neck. The lifeless body toppled to the ground, leaving only the head to be held by its guard.
"Why did you do that?" Han barked. "There was more he could've told us."
Ben was quiet for a moment as he frowned at the fallen orc, allowing his thoughts to digest the last of its words. There was a particular sort of darkness coming, one that would bring the world to its end in fire and ruin, led by a source who had somehow been resurrected from the grave. Now, his vision had begun to make sense and his greatest fear was officially awake.
"There was nothing more to be said of which that I didn't already know." Ben's upper lip curled at the snarl as he returned the sword to its sheath at his hip. He turned to Han then, eyes pointed and severe. "Did you not hear him? Sidious has returned."
Han pinched his lips as his hands settled on his waist, unaffected by the revelation. "We do not know if this is for certain and we could have found out more if you would've kept yourself together for once."
"You would rather take the word of an orc over mine?" Ben accused and moved to withdraw himself from the group, leaving Han to follow at his heels.
"Those are visions, Ben," Han called out to him. "Foresight should never be taken lightly, it is always in motion."
Ben whirled around at that, bringing Han to a sudden halt.
"And what if I am right? What if something has been moving before us and has remained unseen?" His eyes flickered over Han's, searching for an indication that the probability of his words was reaching him. Slowly, he could see that glimmer of realization start to sink in, encouraged to continue. "We have all been living blind. And as a consequence, the enemy has been allowed to return."
Han regarded him, reluctant in saying the words aloud and of which his son had always known to be his father's biggest weakness. However, the sound of an arrow piercing the air relieved Han from having to express the truth as Ben was struck in the shoulder by the first Morgul arrow, bringing him to his knees and rolling to his back. And the arrow was followed by the tips of dozens more.
The horde of orcs had come out of nowhere, astride the backs of oversized wolf-like mounts known as wargs, hollering with satisfaction as every elf fell to the venom of their projectiles, not caring when a few of their own were hauled from their mount as they were also met by arrows from the elves.
The pain was unlike anything Ben had ever felt and he cried out in newfound agony when Han removed the arrow from its mark. Everything continued to pass in a blur as he could feel himself succumb to the poison's dire effects, drifting in and out of momentary unconsciousness, his body slowly turning numb from pain. The last thing that Ben remembered seeing was Han's body fall over him with the points of three arrows in his chest, surrounded by the few who were lost to the gnashing of teeth.
His final moments were spent reverting to those days in which he last saw Rey, reminded of their stolen kisses, promising one another a future that would never come to pass. How he would give anything to see her again and tell her that he loved her.
Now…
The memories ended there, and Kylo couldn't recall how he'd come to live within that very same nightmare of which he always feared. And how he inadvertently followed the footsteps to fulfill his grandfather's legacy as the Witch King. He was no longer Ben Solo but Kylo Ren, a creature of darkness, rebirthed and groomed to lust over an object that would never allow him to be fully satisfied, as the other part of him longed for something just as equally powerful to his needs.
While he was once meant to be Alderaan's future king, he was somehow steered down the direction of a much darker path, as the sole purpose of a Ringwraith was to do one thing: find and return the One Ring to its master. But that's where the road for him would eventually stop, not knowing what was to become of him after.
There was also the question of whether he would be able to surrender the Ring if the relic should come to be within his grasp, and then, there was Rey, who his love for was revived, along with those other long and forgotten painful memories.
Asking Rey to stay with him would be the most selfish of decisions he could make at this time, and she would likely be killed if Snoke, or Sidious, discovered his division of loyalties. If he were to leave with her, he'd put them at the risk of being hunted and killed, including those of whom they would ever come in contact with. He would be deemed a traitor, and an aid to the enemy while being forced to set aside the part of him that longed for the Ring.
Two paths were laid before him and neither of them could give him happiness.
"I know this was a life chosen for you," Rey uttered softly, "but it has been done for a reason. And one that you must choose to do with what's been given."
Kylo looked at her and grimaced. The golden light from the fire inside the hearth, lit by a servant for her as a source of warmth, brightened half of her profile while she faced him sitting. She spoke as if he had been given a gift when it was clearly not. Being a Ringwraith was a curse, a nightmare that could never be woken from.
His expression turned grim. "No path exists to where good can come from this.".
Rey shook her head, determined to make him see. "It is already laid before you, Ben. You are Vader's heir. What he failed to accomplish you must finish."
"I do not have the strength to take on Sidious and Dathomir alone. And Snoke? I would be surprised if he's not aware of my absence by now."
Her expression softened at that. "You are not alone," she assured with added grit. Her hand reached for his, still concealed by the glove, eyes set on his. "You have me. Let me help you."
He looked at her hand covering his and lingered for a moment, measuring her words. His gaze rose to hers then, and he was met with the same look she always gave him. Love. Compassion. Understanding. How could she still look at him like that? As if he had never turned into a monster who would kill for a Ring - had killed for a Ring. And he would do it again. And again. It was an ardent sort of urge, that no amount of love for her, could ever save him from.
"I could never ask that of you," he confessed, his tone laden with sadness. "You deserve more than this, a life away from grief and despair."
Rey held firm with the offer. "I think that choice is mine alone to make. And I will always choose you. I would rather spend one lifetime with you, however dim or sorrowful it may be, than face all the ages of this world alone."
Ben closed his eyes and shook his head, though no tears were present to be shed that could express the melancholy of which he felt. "Rey…"
Her grip tightened on his hand and brought it to her chest, moving closer toward him to compensate for what little distance separated them. She settled it over her heart, beneath the tender spot of the wound he gave her and covered his gloved hand with both of hers. He could feel the organ's slow and steady rhythm pulsate beneath his palm. It was the exact same as his own, a reminder they were both alive. He looked at her when she spoke after the moment's pause, and he never looked away after.
"If you are unable to trust nothing else," she whispered. "Trust this. Trust us."
Trust in love was what she meant to say.
And he did, all the while disbelieving how she still found him worthy of it. If she only knew of the terrible things he had done he'd be certain she would no longer look at him the same; yet, despite her not knowing the unknown Rey still loved him. And he loved her. So much to where he couldn't help but not keep his emotions guarded like he wanted to for her safety.
He needed her as much as she needed him.
Without further words added he kissed her; although at first, the kisses were short and hesitant. Every touch of her warmth against the icy cold of his lips likened to flashes of embers, hot sparks that burned and tingled. It was an act of sin to the Wraith while serving sweet nirvana to the Elf. What started off as innocent quickly blossomed into something more.
His hand remained on her after Rey removed her hands from his, aware of her heart quickening its pace beneath his touch as his hastened to do the same. She folded her arms around his shoulders and brought their bodies closer, ascending his hand toward the arc of her shoulder and neck, the other rose to mirror it. Her lips parted ever so slight at the seams, welcoming his tongue to mingle with hers.
The heat of her mouth was exhilarating, her flavor intoxicating. And, oh, how the shudder of her moan over his mouth made his body react in ways he'd never felt, as his senses ascended skyward. When they finally broke apart for air he was left feeling lightheaded. Their mouths parted but stayed close, eyes raising to view the other through hooded lashes.
"Im mel cin, Ben," Rey uttered, her voice airy and breathless.
With his head cocked he brought a thumb up to grace her cheek. "I love you."
"Then show me," she murmured, eyes imploring. "Make love to me."
Kylo winced at the request, emotions churning. "I think I've already hurt you enough."
She rolled her eyes. "You won't," she huffed. "No more holding back. If tonight should be our last, I want no regrets."
He stared at her with reluctance. Her words were dismal in meaning, but he understood. He would have asked her the same had he been aware of the events that followed within the days of their last evening together. Now, he was living proof of how much the times had changed since then. Every second spent with her was meant to count even though he deserved none of what she was offering. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to gather the strength to resist her.
He took a breath and nodded. Swallowing the lump in his throat he withdrew his hands from her, as Rey proceeded to do the same with hers. He started by removing his gloves, thinking she'll be repulsed when she saw how the Wraith had changed him in more ways than one. He revealed the elongated nails extending past the ends of his fingers, surprised to see there was no judgment in her eyes and was instead met with acceptance.
Worrying her bottom lip, her eyes fell to the bottom hem of her tunic. The warm glow from the fire exposed the rosey blush that flourished her cheeks. Had his skin retained its proper pigmentation of color he was certain his would have done the same as she slowly rid herself of the attire, rising onto her knees with a fluid motion and discarding it to the side.
Too mesmerized by her appearance he failed to notice she was expecting him to do the same. She was beautiful. She was perfect. And she was his. And it awed him how Rey was so willing to give him that piece of herself. For that, he had every intention to worship her like the queen he would make her be, as marriage to elves was also done through consummation.
They took their time shedding the remnants of clothes, allowing one another to comprehend what the other saw for the first time. It was awkward though the word was frankly an understatement. He had never felt more vulnerable as he did after baring himself nude for her, clothes lying scattered at their feet.
He allowed her to make the first move, wanting her to be satisfied with what she saw of the new body he'd been given, as the lack of clothes made his tone more vivid and bright. As much as he longed for it he dared to not touch her. She noticed his skin didn't retain the fire's golden hue like hers, while her fingers worked curiously and further over him. With every touch he set aside insecurity, his cock stiffened as her fingers drew closer.
When she boldly took him in hand, the heat of her palm around the velvety skin of his member sent his eyes rolling toward the back of his head, hindering his ability to see the smirk that beamed across her face. She pumped him slowly, triggering a hearty groan from a place low in his chest. She drove herself upon her tiptoes, her free hand gripping his shoulder and kissed him deeply, drinking every note that her actions granted him. She pulled away and Kylo found himself incapable of resisting her gentle command.
"Touch me."
As she murmured the words over his lips her hand continued to lure him over a threshold of madness. With a hand splayed at the small of her back he brought their bodies closer, his frigidity spurring every goosebump on her skin to life.
Her nipples perked as he grazed a thumb along the bottom swell of her breast, cataloging every sigh and smile earned into his memory. How she seemed to enjoy it more as he toyed the nub of her breast between his forefinger and thumb, and then carefully kneaded her with his palm. When he kissed her again, their moans were a mutual blend of the other.
He started to realize then, that he wasn't certain how much longer he would last. He could feel the heat deriving from her core, knowing she was ready for him as he was for her. He still found it hard to believe he could make her feel that way, and he wanted nothing more than to experience the remnants of it being inside her.
He guided her onto his lap as he took a seat amongst their clothes by the fire, its warmth compensating for his cold. When his hands held her steady at the waist, he could feel her muscles tremble. He looked at her with concern, hoping that it wasn't because of him.
"Just nervous," she confessed timidly, hands settled on his shoulders.
He nodded, relieved that he wasn't the cause of her fear. "We can wait."
Her head shook at that, moving her hands to cradle his jaw. "No, I want this. I promise."
His eyes fell to the fabric on her shoulder, again overcome with surprise that she still wanted this from him when it was clear he would've killed her days before. It was amazing, truly, how much her love affected him. He vowed to spend his days protecting her from those like himself and others considered worse.
For the first time since he became a Ringwraith, that proverbial song of the Ring ceased to not exist in his thoughts. Right now, it was simply him and Rey. His eyes returned to hers then at the thought.
"Take your time," he assured and began to shower kisses along her neck, pausing to speak in between. "The night belongs to us."
She nodded and swallowed, relying on the softness of his lips to ease away the anxiety. At the same time, she was left in wonder how one of the most feared individuals in Middle Earth could be so gentle, and how she could easily bring him, the Witch King, to his knees.
Adhering to the reassurance of his words she allowed herself to relish more in his tenderness, as he furnished special attention to the raw skin surrounding her wound. His kisses grew more heated, teasing the jut of her collarbone with the tip of his tongue as if he was able to heal her completely. He was no longer the cold-blooded killer as he was known to be, but rather the compassionate elf Ben Solo.
His hands lowered to her outer thighs, hissing when her hand came in contact with his swollen cock. The initial anticipation was torture, and he tried not to enact on primary instincts and buck his hips when she immersed the head of him inside her. His skin at their connection felt as if he had engulfed into flames yet the burn wasn't at all painful, but a more pleasant sort of heat.
Her fingers wound through the shorter tresses at the nape of his neck. His head rose for her forehead to press against his, hands moving to punishingly grasp her hips. Her whimpers were silenced by his moans, heeding to the tightness of her walls that spread to accommodate his size.
She paused when the extent of him was inside her, allowing the discomfort of fullness to surpass. He whispered appraisals to her in Elvish, telling her short tales of how beautiful she was and how she was his everything.
She gave her hips an experimental roll over his, a gasp eluded their lips. The feeling itself was instant gratification. It was beautiful. It was bliss. And not at all painful as what she thought it would be once the initial ache from his presence dissipated, evolving into that of amazing pleasure.
His hands guided her into a slow and steady cadence, his hips slow moving with shallow to deeper thrusts, both determined to bring the other to climax. He marveled over her every reaction, while her interior walls had begun to clamp around his cock her head reclined as her eyes rolled shut, the muscles in his stomach clenching.
"Rey," he uttered in stilted breaths, "open your eyes. Look at me."
She did as he had asked and he looked at her as if she were the only person alone with him in the universe. They came together as stars flashed before their eyes, followed by visions that led into a world where shadow and flames of death were no longer in sight.
There was peace among rich green canopies, a forest lit by lanterns. There was also love and family and a child. And more endless nights of love making. It was the future - their future - and one that neither was certain would ever exist.