Disclaimer For All Chapters: Star Wars is the property and creation of George Lucas; this work does not make any profit and neither does the author claim ownership over publicly recognized characters.

Warnings: language and sensuality. Readers, be advised there are some spoilers from the latest film! This is my Christmas present to all my Reylo fans out there. In the recent instalment, I think there were some good foundation pieces laid out but a lot of ambiguity. Let me know what you think! ~LB

*~.oOo.~*

He stood close to the ruins of the throne room, dispassionately surveying the damage that he had wrecked upon it only a few weeks before. The obsidian throne itself was blackened and stained with the blood of his inconsequential adversary; its ancient glyphs were worn off and along with it, whatever dark prophecies they had foretold. He had forbidden anyone to come near it; he preferred it this way. A monument to his great triumph and usurpation of the imperial crown.

Kylo sensed Hux's eyes at his back, watching with unguarded jealousy and resentment. Deciding to indulge the insufferable general, he reshifted his attention.

"I believe it's your turn," Hux said in a rather ungracious tone.

Kylo merely looked at him. Flushing at his mistake, Hux pursed his lips and forced himself to say: "Supreme Leader."

Satisfied, Kylo returned to the table where Hux was seated across from him. A chessboard and a square of marble were the only things that stood between them in this red room. A droid had provided glasses and wine but neither players took the refreshment. That was a courtesy reserved for friends and allies, not of an emperor conferring with his most-hated servant. He hardly spared a glance as he picked up a bishop wrought in ebony then traversed it across to take Hux's ivory queen, placing the general's king in peril.

"Check."

"I never understood," Hux observed in dissatisfaction as he scanned the board for alternatives, "why the queen was made to be the most powerful piece in the game."

"It isn't." Kylo corrects him. "It's simply the one with the most moves and positions available than all other pieces."

"Then why wasn't the king given the same power? A king's consort can make more moves than himself?" There is a degree of insolence in Hux's inquiry that Kylo does not appreciate. He pauses from the game to look at his opponent.

"What are you implying, General?"

Hux glares at him with unmistakable scorn before launching into his attack. "This is the second time you let that girl escape and beat you—"

Immediately, Kylo leapt up and threw the table aside, scattering the game and pieces all across the obsidian floors. "Take care to whom and what you say!"

"I am speaking to the man whom I found on the ground, unconscious I might add, and who failed to protect his master!" Hux dared to shout. "The empire may have accepted your new title but they don't know what I know or have seen. You're distracted and obsessed with that woman."

Kylo did not even have to raise a hand to close in on Hux's throat, willing it to be crushed into silence and feeling the oesophagus squeeze dangerously to a tight grip. The sudden seizure is strong enough to pull the general out of his seat and tumble to the ground.

"Do not think," Kylo threatens to Hux's cowering form, "I am keeping you alive because I enjoy your company. You are here because you are one of the few generals left to me. But that favour can only last you so long. Speak to me like that again, I'll skin you alive."

He loosened his hold, leaving Hux to cough and gasp his way to a normal breathing pace.

"Get out of my sight."

Hux did not need telling twice. Pulling himself up, he threw one last look of fury at Kylo and withdrew from the throne room. When he had gone, Kylo turned to look at his surroundings once more, only to see the cracked vestiges of a marble board and his chess pieces in a scatter.

With one deft movement of his finger, they lifted from the floor to begin a slow orbit around him. The pawns, rooks, kings, knights, bishops...the queens. Slowly they came to a rest upon his outstretched palm, the ivory and the ebony. He let his finger trailed against their long bodies to the tips of their crowns as it wandered over the contrast: light and dark.

Enfolding his gloved hand over them, he pressed his lips against his fist and focused, actively seeking beyond miles upon miles of dark expanse clouded in white from nebulas and distant galaxies...the ship. He could see its tattered hulls and battered stern, even glimpses of the Resistance naval crew as they walked by on the bridge but that was not what he was looking for.

He came closer.

The empty beauty of space eclipsed Rey's bedroom window as the ship passed the void in silence. Lying on her bed in apathetic exhaustion, she hugged her body with a twist of blankets, unable to sleep or stay awake. The pattern was wearisome: run, hide, fight, run again. Had she really been on Anch To and trained by the fabled Luke? Had she truly fought on par with Darth Vader's heir? All these legendary encounters yet she felt not much progress had been made nor could she discern any noticeable changes within herself. Heroes were supposed to come with glory and honour, not empty-handed.

"The longing you seek is not behind you…."

Instinctively, Rey huddled close.

"It is ahead."

In the vastness of time and distance, she felt an ever-familiar pull as she was dragged deeper into a state of in-between where the stars elongated into white streaks and the warmth of her quarters gave way to a cold throne room. Her bare feet touched the splintered marble tiles but did not take on dust or debris. She walked the scarlet halls with trepidation, remembering what happened here the last time. The fallen knights were gone as was the monstrous king yet on the dais, the empire's throne remained intact. This was the closest she ever got to that proverbial seat of power. As she approached, it seemed to her that it was much smaller and darker than what she had remembered in her nightmares.

"I'm glad we can continue our conversation."

Rey stepped back, nonplussed. She could never get used to this. To always be taken into his unguarded moments and her own. It was as if the universe was actively testing her limits to see how far they could be pushed.

"Don't be afraid." Kylo Ren outstretched his hand in a reassuring gesture although she did not dare take it. "I won't hurt you. I can't anyway, at least not like this."

"But you would, given the chance," Rey replied not without bitterness.

He inclined his head to the side as though to think it over. "Is that what you really believe?" He asked at some length. "I could have killed you back there, many times, in fact. But I chose not to."

"I could say the same for you." Rey levelled her gaze with his. "I don't know what it is you want from me. You made your choice and I made mine. Let's be done with it, Ben. We can't keep doing this."

She expected it the connexion to end right then and there. Yet the longer she waited, she found herself still standing across from him and felt his tangible presence. He too seemed surprised at her stay and drew himself up to his full height.

"You're not angry with me." He observed. "About Luke."

He was right. She could not deny it. She did not feel any rage or sadness over Luke's passing. Given the circumstances, it had been a good death and one out of pure choice. She could not have said the same for Han and the memory of it still cut her.

"All he ever wanted," she brought herself to say, "was for you to understand and use the force as it was meant to. Not to build empires or tear down republics."

The look he gave her was….she could not read it the way he could with her own visage and expressions. Inscrutable, certainly, and perhaps it was her own wistful imagination but she thought she could see a flash of regret in those eyes. His was a face that had no pretence to beauty nor did it carry any of the hallmark traits of his famed lineage to be recognisable. All those lines and scars across his cheeks belied his youth. If she really tried, maybe it would have been possible to trace out a degree of softness. Some hint of a smuggler's kindness, even a princess's regal bearing and dignity. Anything to link him back to what she believed was his true calling. Yes, she still believed it. She had to. She wanted to.

Unwittingly, she outstretched a hand.

Then it all came back to her—bursts of red salt crystals scattering into the sky like sparkling drops of blood, men's screams, the rocks as they shifted away at her command, Leia's grief over her lost legions and her son.

In disgust, Rey drew back and found herself back in her room, alone.

Her phantom was gone.

*~.oOo.~*

The next time he sees her again, it is at her table. She has just finished tea with someone. He notes from the empty chair, a second cup, and a plate of biscuits placed across from her. Her contented period of introspection is interrupted at the sight of him; the break can be acutely felt. Later on, he learns that when she is in a state of calm, it is easy to be taken into her consciousness and by that logic, he supposed, it would hold true in vice versa.

"You really should stop doing this." Rey gets right to it.

"Likewise."

She looks annoyed and at some point, she says, "It must be because we were talking about you."

His eyes flicker over to the table arrangement, realising at once whom she is referring to. When he was a child, afternoon teas with his mother had been one of their customary routines. As much as Leia tried to convince others that she was a soldier, there were some princessly habits she had retained in spite of herself. He recalled she even had a few jewels in possession, one or two bequeathed from Padme, Darth Vader's lost queen although they must have been long gone by now. He had always asked Leia about his famous grandparents but never got the full story let alone a straight answer. Not even Luke was willing to say more on the subject. Just that it was a love story that ended in tragedy.

"I have to say, I'm having a really hard time understanding how someone who cried when his pet duck died can turn into the Supreme Leader of the First Order," Rey remarks.

I should have killed you when I had the chance, Kylo silently rages, forgetting that she can sense his disquiet. To his surprise, she suppresses a laugh before it eases back into a neutral expression of contemplation.

"The things Leia told me about you, I almost can't believe it," she says, "but then I remember the conflict I felt in you and the future I saw..." She trails off, uncertain.

"What was it?"

For the first time in their exchanges, a smile graces her lips but it is not one of flattery. There is real sorrow curving around her features and depressing the dimple on her left cheek. "Why do you care?"

"I don't." He doesn't even attempt to hide it. "Whatever you saw is not the path I want but," he walks over to the table and grabs the chair with surprising tangibility to seat himself, "I want to see it anyway."

Her eyes betray her bewilderment and distrust. This must be what she meant by seeing the conflict within him. The dual pulls between knowing what she knows and seeing what she sees, Luke's warnings, their own discussions by the fire. In between is ambiguity where he seems to reside, neither good nor evil. Of all the things she holds dear, he is the only one that is in balance. How ironic.

He pulls off a glove and reaches out with his naked hand. "Show me." Her hesitation makes him impatient. "Show me!"

This time, she heeds his call and grasps his palm with her own. He is not prepared for the burst of light that engulfs them both in a whitening flash. Disoriented, he strains to discern his new surroundings as he is pulled into her vision. A rain of rose petals showers down on them in fragrant scatters from the sky, heralding cheers and roars from an unknown crowd. It is a sea of people from nearly every race in the galaxy, each one smiling and laughing in uninhibited joy but they are not looking at him or Rey. They have walked into a celebration and are mere spectators or so he believes until—

"Mum!" A pair of twins, beautiful as the day and looking as though they had stepped out of the sun, rush past him and fly straight into the waiting arms of a woman who bears a striking resemblance to Rey.

Only it is Rey.

Transfixed, Kylo watches in fascination. She could not have been only a few more years older than what she was now. Her hair is loose and tumbling down past her shoulders in pretty tendrils as her dress seems to float about her in trails of white linen. He is stunned when it seems she catches his eye and smiles wide. This vision of Rey beckons and although Kylo does not move, he sees a man in grey coming towards her. He cannot see the stranger but knows enough to understand that Rey is waiting for him and there is more emotion on her face within this very moment than he has seen in all the time since he had known her. Her smile is growing, she looks so happy as do the children and his senses are afire. The fragrance of roses is intoxicating, the sun far too bright. Their cries of joy pierce his ears too keenly like gulls flying across the ocean.

Surely...could it really be...

But the dream is truncated and he finds himself back on the plane of reality. Rey is gone. All that is left to him are the black walls of his quarters and the dull hums of engines underneath his feet.

Incensed, he whips around as though she is still there and shouts into the silence.

"Rey!"

When she does not answer, he seizes a clock from his nightstand and smashes it to the ground, spraying glass everywhere.

Almost immediately, his doors open and a complement of guards rush inside, alarmed by the noise.

"Sir, are you—?"

"GET OUT!"

He is about to catapult them all but they retreat quickly, dutifully, until he is at last left alone again to brood on his latest disappointment.

He breathes hard, furiously working through all the reasons for her to disconnect at that particular moment. He had been so close. He may not have had the complete picture but believed he saw enough to know what was true. She could rail at him or the very universe but it wouldn't matter or change the fate's designs upon them both.

He was in her future.

As she was in his.