Compassion | Reylo

1

                                                                                           Rey

The cold air of Exogul tears at my face as I approach the dark and sinister throne of the Sith. A lightning strike illuminates the jagged piece of stone, engraved with the Sith language, and my dark vision flashes against my eyes.

There I am, clothed in a thin dress made of the deepest night silk, face cloaked behind a hood blocking out all light but for gleaming yellow eyes. Draped leisurely across the lap of a brooding Kylo Ren, whose face is framed only by his dark ringlets, and fingers, claws almost, trail lazily down the pale skin of my- no- Dark Rey's thigh.

I shiver at the thought of the nightmare I once only characterized with the masked monster who killed his own father, but I now know some twisted part of my own mind has conjured up the chilling scene. A scene that could be my rapidly approaching future.

"I sense the power in you, young Rey. My power. Take your throne empress Palpatine, you've seen that it is where you are meant to sit. To rule." I turn to face the mutilated, pupiless face of Palpatine. My grandfather.

"Good..." He hisses. Somewhere else in the cavern I can faintly hear pounding footsteps echoing my pounding heart, but I can't sense who it is, too enthralled in the emotionless cloudy blanks of Palpatine's eyes.

My foot trips over the other one as I stumble one step closer to his shrouded figure.

He is speaking to me, something about power, and striking him down, and I can't really hear it, but they sound so sickly sweet, and letting the honeyed speech trickle into my brain, filling my head with white noise, blocking out all the screams and the pain, whether they be from memory, or visions of the future. It would be so easy just to do what he asks. His blood runs through mine, Luke and Leia knew all along that I must have been destined for this. At least I could save my friends. There's no one to tell me no, or give me advice, all the voices have been snuffed out, he snuffed them out, I can't even hear my own breathing, the bond through the force with Kylo that is always a thread behind my eyelids, never far away from my grasp is coated in syrupy promises of ruling the galaxy, of all choices being mine. I am truly alone.

I take another step forward.

And then another, and another, I cannot even hear the sound of my foot falling on the stone floor.

"She will draw her weapon." Ghostly voices join the hush in my mind, chanting in whispers somehow so loud I still cannot find anything else in my mind. It has been wiped bare.

"She will take her revenge. And with a stroke of her saber, the sith are reborn." And that's when I feel it.

Feel him. There's a sharp sensation in my gut, as if he's been hurt, and it is enough to whip me back to my senses. I can feel Kylo's presence. No. Ben's presence. But he is still too far away.

"The Jedi. Are. Dead!" I do not even think I am moving my own hands when I raise Luke's lightsaber, the blue glow of the saber illuminating the wicked grin on Palpatine's face.

Until it is not Palpatine anymore. The now familiar silence of my force bond with Ben, quiets the evil chorus that I know is still behind me. I can hear only my breathing in and out. And Ben's breathing, falling into rhythm with mine as we lock eyes. I ask a question with tears rapidly rising and he nods in response.

"Am I alone."

"Never."

Whatever Palpatine could tempt me with no longer holds any sway. I know what I need to do. And I am not alone.

"Do it. Make the sacrifice." The force connection holds strong as I raise my lightsaber behind my head, and just, breathe.