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When the Supreme Leader captures you, he has every intention of stealing intel from your mind and killing you with the cruelest stroke imaginable. But upon carrying you to his shuttle, there's a shift. An obsessive...
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Without waiting for a response, he threw his device down and rushed to get dressed. His rage fueled him forward as he slipped on his battle attire, put on his helmet, and grabbed his lightsaber. He was just about to exit his chambers when he had to stop. He sensed a familiar Force signature. Light, but not Luke. It was his mother's.
"Your quarters are so tidy. What happened to you?"
"No," he whispered, turning around to see Leia Organa hovering by his kitchen table. "No."
Hands on her hips, she raised a brow. "Hello to you, too."
Kylo gawked at her from under his mask, lips parting in astonishment as he tried to process that his mother was here. She looked much different than he remembered. Her hair was almost entirely gray, with a face full of prominent aging lines, and she looked frail in her Resistance garb. But despite the changes in her appearance, something was still very distinct about her—the calm, composed sense of royalty she carried with her from her youth. The potency of it hit Kylo in the fucking face.
"How. Why?"
She gestured around his room. "Your Force signature found me, Son. I simply answered."
"No, no, I was...I was reaching out to Palpatine. Not you."
"Palpatine?" she asked, nose scrunching in disapproval. "Good heavens. Why on Naboo would you ever do that?"
"I had no choice," Kylo said through gritted teeth, heart palpitations screaming in his chest. "Grandfather has only answered my outreach once. I needed immediate counsel."
"Don't take it personally. He ignores my calls too, the bastard," she muttered, swatting a dismissive hand. With a sigh, she turned to the table and sat down on the stool. She grimaced. "What is this thing made of, tempersteel?" she asked, looking down to adjust her angle on the chair. "The cell at Jabba's Palace was more comfortable than this."
Kylo tried to hide his shaking hands. "Mother, you need to leave."
She stopped fussing with the stool and peered at his mask. Dark brown eyes bored into him, her lips shaped into a small frown. "You know how this works. The Force won't let us part until it feels right. So we might as well have a little chat."
He studied her for a moment, unmoving except for the heavy rise and fall of his chest. She was calm on the exterior, though Kylo sensed her desperation to speak with him. But after being taken down memory lane by the Force, the last thing Kylo wanted to do was converse with the so-called maternal figure that ignored him for half his childhood. "Fine." He spun around, approached his doors, and slammed his knuckles into the controls. "If you don't leave, I will."
"I have a letter for you. It's from the girl," Leia called out, bringing him to an immediate halt. "Something tells me you will want to read it."
Kylo's heart stuttered, his robes snapping at his ankles as he spun around. "Is this some type of sick joke?"
"Nope," Leia said, stuffing a hand in her vest pocket. Keeping her eyes on his mask, she slid the letter across the table. "It's addressed to you."
Kylo didn't move. "How do I know that whatever is in that letter is actually from her?"
"As I said, it's addressed to you," she said, tapping the envelope. She looked down at it and pursed her lips. "Ah, well, actually, it's addressed to Jabba, whatever the kriff that means, but Zeven insisted it's for you."
Kylo's stomach dropped. It really is from her, he thought, dumbfounded, before crossing the room in a few quick strides. He hovered at the other end of the table and looked down at the letter. "She gave this to you?"
"No, she is no longer here. She got it to Zeven, but she won't tell me how or when..." she trailed off, a frown tugging at her mouth. "It seems I have lost her trust, too. All I know is your girl wanted to communicate with you but didn't know how to without revealing her location."
Kylo snatched the letter up as his mother continued to talk, turning his back to her as he stepped away from the table. He didn't hear a single word she said; he was too focused on the letter in his hands, neatly tucked away into an envelope with the name JABBA written on it. Holding his breath, he ripped it open, unfolded the paper, and let the envelope fall to the floor.
