The Last Knight

Ch 23: Mustafar

HELLO. I'm still alive. IF YOU STILL CARE ABOUT THE STORY THANK U. Now, as a gift, I will proceed to break your heart in 3 chapters. :)

You woke up pressed against him, like always. It was something your siblings used to hate about you. You'd all fight over space before falling asleep, and gods forbid someone would accidentally brush their chilly toes against someone else's leg. At night, you'd slowly migrate toward whoever was closest, huddling against them.

It wasn't the cold you liked, or missed. You only enjoyed the cold when you had somewhere safe to shelter through it. When you knew that at your coldest, a blanket was waiting for you--inevitably with someone under it to squeal when you touched them with frozen feet.

The thought crept into your head before you had the chance to stop it. It wasn't a new thought, but one you tried not to think too often. Did your siblings ever think of you? You'd be immortalized in their minds as a little girl. They'd never recognize you now.

You blinked a few times, stifling the thought. You had work to do today. You-

Kylo turned toward you, grimacing.

"How are you already in a bad mood? You've only been awake for, like, five seconds."

"I could say the same about your snarky attitude." He replied. There wasn't a hint of a smile on his lips. Sometimes, you wondered if he was ever truly joking with you or if that was something you told yourself to feel better. Your relationship with Kylo was... unconventional, at best. At worst it was probably unhealthy, possibly bordering on insanity, but... it somehow settled you in a way that nothing else had ever seemed to. He may be silent and stoic most of the time, but he had a presence about him that you had come to find comforting.

You rubbed your eyes, but the supreme leader lowered your hand and kissed each of your eyelids gently. You sighed, loving these rare, tender moments from him. He rarely kissed you so gently, not that you entirely minded. But when he was like this, he was most dangerous. So dangerous that you could almost imagine yourself telling him you loved him.

Until he ruined it with: "Go back to sleep."

You immediately sat up, pushing him away, and he let you. You knew what he was saying by his tone alone. "Kyl-"

He held up his hand to silence you and swung himself out of bed. "I changed my mind."

Your heart was suddenly pounding. The absolute fullness and comfort that you felt only seconds before was replaced by a cold emptiness. You balled your hands into fists as you watched him get ready. You knew you looked like an idiot just sitting there in bed, but something kept you rooted in place until your nails dug into your palms hard enough to draw blood. Maybe it was that you knew arguing with him would be useless, but that had never stopped you before. It was something else.

Something you didn't want to admit, even to yourself.

You were alone again, purposeless, hiding inside an empty Rebel base and digging through junk to try to find expired meal packets. The future loomed before you, full of nothing. Lying on a pallet bed, staring at the ceiling, forever.

Your face was hot. You clenched your jaw to keep from crumbling. Not because of this one mission that you couldn't go on, but for all the ones in the future. A sadness hit you like a heavy weight, because you knew he hadn't changed his mind at all. He was never going to let you go in the first place. And this wouldn't be the last time this happened. The tenderness he had showed you was dangerous because he knew that you would allow this.

He knew you would allow this.

And then you decided.

You decided that, no, you wouldn't allow it. Actually, it was less of a decision and more of a resolve. Not necessarily a choice, but an obligation. You wanted to allow this. You wanted to be happy to sit here in bed while your friends risked their lives and the First Order won the war against the Resistance. But you knew you wouldn't. Even stronger than the tie that tethered you to the Supreme Leader was your desire to live. Not to survive, but to live. And you weren't made to exist on a ship, not after all that had happened. Your power thrummed under your skin constantly, white electricity begging for the next chance to be released. The force was asking you to feel it, and you could not refuse. You could not sit on this ship and refuse. You could not lie here, staring at the ceiling and know that your life would be nothing but days like this.