"Embrace your dest–"
"Strip."
After being lead through never-ending halls of slate grey and walls of dove, I was ushered into a lavatory-like room, where the light is too bright for my eyes after the darkening gloom. I find it abrasive, enough to perhaps bring on a migraine.
Gleaming granite counter tops, full length mirrors, a large tub next to a walk in shower room, fluffy towels neatly arranged, tiled floors and a hospital-like bed in the centre–this place certainly isn't run by risk-takers as the space was bright and sterile, lacking even a trace of warmth.
"I said... strip!" Barked an unpleasant man, who the StormTroopers had passed me onto. He was not overly old but he hunched a little just below my height enough for me to know that he was feeling the first aches of many years.
He had lifeless grey hair that limply framed his face, which was wrinkled by many peaks and trenches–presumably from the way he looked at me now, they must have been caused by years of consistent scowling. His entire face seemed drained of any signs of joy and amusement, instead his furrowed brows told a tale of regular displeasure.
My mouth goes dry at his demand. I don't wish to undress in front of this man, whom I do not know. Beneath these blinding lights, the imperfections on my skin would shine like a beacon and without clothes on, there was nowhere to hide; I begin to panic.
What if this man deems me unworthy of fulfilling my purpose? What will the First Order do with me if I wasn't to their standards? Commander September would regularly check my figure, but there was something structured about the way she would do it–and sadly, she was familiar.
"I-" My voice hesitated, my mind racing to keep pace with my mouth, "–I am not supposed to reveal myself to any man other than who destiny decides," The words came out rushed, swathed in a tone that was hardly at all confident. It was a distinctive hollow voice, empty and practiced. Like an echo, a voice that could never quite claim itself to be something of its own.
The words spoken weren't a lie though: I was never to show myself to any man unless it was who the First Order paired me to–in this case, only Kylo Ren could demand me to undress, much like the man before me tried. Either way, it was a terrifying notion.
The man huffs a harsh breath, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.
"Arion!" He calls out, and I snap my head into the direction of where he turns–a hatch to the left suddenly opens, revealing a small girl, maybe a couple years younger than me. "Bathe the girl and prepare her to standards. I will be the one to approve of your work once you are finished." He spat.
The girl–Arion–nods, and under my brief gaze she doesn't withdraw or flinch, but neither does she step forward to be seen. "Yes, Sir." She nods with a blank tone, and upon her response, the man doesn't give me another look as he disappears into the room the girl had just come from.
She turns and heads to the large bathtub and begins preparing it. I stare lifelessly at her back as she pour soaps into the warming water, creating white bubbles. "Would you please undress for your bath?" She utters, not glancing back as she spoke–but I could almost sense her eyes twitch in my direction while her spine remained facing.
Suddenly, my grey uniform begins to feel heavy and my headscarf almost feels too loose. I didn't want to undress in front of Arion either, but she was a much better prying eye than the ones that belonged to the previous man.
I take my boots off first, peeling my socks and headscarf from my body after. Next, I begin to untie my blouse with nervous fingers and untuck it from my thick skirt, which I step out of shortly after. The cold air is lace against my skin, the warmth of my blood causing goosebumps as a defence against such ice.
I am left standing in just my undergarments, too fragile and scared to get any more vulnerable.
When the bath is finally filled, Arion turns and her eyes meet mine.
"It's okay," She gives me an understanding look, "It's only my job to prepare you, not to judge."
Her words would provide a certain sense of comfort, if it weren't for the lacking tension that I could feel exuding from her force and body.
She must be a servant of some sort by the looks of her uniform–which when I really look at it: starkly resembles the clothes that crumple around my feet. I bite my bottom lip and weakly nod, forcing my stiff hands to take my thin undergarments off, before I back out and just pull my clothes back on.
She stares with a look designed not to give any menacing emotion away. She's still practically a child, hiding her delicate side behind a wall and keeping her natural smile under lock and key whilst replacing it with a fake.
Motioning to the tub, I follow her lead without hesitation; ready to hide my frame beneath the thick and inviting layer of soap. The water is warm and my goosebumps disappear as my skin is beneath its surface. This place is so new and spotless, I feel like the whole building must have just gotten beamed here from some-place where dirt is outlawed–I suddenly become very conscious of the dirt beneath my nails... the only reminiscence of my once home.
Arion had left and returned with a large tray of soaps, washcloths and a towel beneath it all. Kneeling to the side of the tub, she reaches out and lifts my chin with a jerk, and her eyes, a dark shade of grey, like slate in the rain, went wide.
"Where are you from?"
I look away out of a overwhelming sense of timid and awkwardness when she drops my chin. Her words are almost forced, like she demands she knows rather than she wishes to learn.
I furrow my brows, and focus on the bubbles that surround me as I stutter my words, "I don't know, I was too young to remember."
I can see her shake her head from the corner of my eye.
"I don't care where you were born," She breathes, almost now whispering to me as she grabs a washcloth and soaks it in the water just above my stomach, "I mean where you had just come from."
"Oh."
The air almost evaporates out of my lungs and my mouth drops. Looking up, I meet her eyes and squint. Where was I from? Project Destiny lived on a planet the First Order never named, so I always just called it my home.
"I don't know that either. Why do you ask?"
She shrugs casually, layering soaps into the cloth and meeting it with the skin on my back delicately. There's nothing harsh about it as she carefully scrubs my skin, indulging it in lavender, berries and sweet. The scents were pastel and lavish at the same time–it was a very big difference to the vanilla scented one which Commander September provided.
I wished that I had enough power to read the thoughts that so obviously echoed behind her stern eyes, but no matter how much I tried to penetrate, I could never get through anyone's skull and listen to their deepest voice.
Though, soon enough she spoke anyway, "I only wonder... for it must be so grand to be privileged with the force," She says, and I can sense her jealousy and heartache mix from within, creating a terrible ache in her heart.
I am almost taken aback.
"Privileged?" I utter and the word almost sounds unfamiliar on my tongue.
Her hands move to my hair and begin removing the grime from it's strands, "Well...I mean, it must be so easy to know your life is destined with purpose. Just take one look at me, my only purpose is to wash your body and scrub the floors you walk upon."
It must be so easy to know your life is destined with purpose. Her words roll around my head for a moment, like I am trying to dissect them or rearrange them in a way that doesn't make my heart pang; but only frustration builds and I think I might explode–I force my lungs to take a deep breath–cool down.
But the fire within me only burns.
I want to shout, rip her hands off my scalp and swipe water into her face. I want to vent, let it all out, but I don't. It's just so easy to be cruel in a moment and then the damage is done. So many times I've wanted to unsay things, take it back, especially when Commander September would punish me afterwards and tell me to know my place–but that isn't what stops me, for when I take a glance back at Arion, she reminds me so much of Three that I suddenly cannot find it within me to snap–Three was so incredibly innocent and unaware; so young... and perhaps, so was Arion.
She too, had blonde hair tied into a loose ponytail that fell down her back. It wasn't a bland colour, because it was streaked with warm reddish hues and butterscotch. It gave her some warmth, complementing her pale face rather than making her look washed-out. As she turned to look my way, I found myself surprised all over again: her eyes were not the dull grey I had thought, but they were the colour of pale seas, and they weren't filled with jealously but rather just ponder.
I shake my head.
"I'm afraid my life isn't much different to yours," I say, calming my storms and giving her a smile that stretches my lips tightly, "I do not know of my purpose yet, as you do not know of yours."
She furrows her eyebrows and cups water to my hair, poking her tongue out childishly against her lip in a train of thought. "Our lives are not the same," She protests, "–I mean, you are to be the barer of the, Kylo Ren's child. Isn't that a purpose enough?"
If there were not nothing but ceramic and water surrounding me, I'd dig my nails into something in a furious attempt to keep my guard strong. I close my eyes, and bite my tongue.
"I do not know Kylo Ren, so he means nothing to me," I tut while shaking my head before opening my eyes once more and glaring upon the blonde girl, "–And, how would you feel if your only purpose was to be a guaranteed womb?"
Her fingers halt for a second in my hair, returning to their rhythm shortly after in attempts to not seem off-put. "Hm... I thought–"
"You thought what?" I interject.
She rinses the remaining soap off her hands and wraps a towel around my hair, "The First Order always told great tales of Project Destiny. They almost put you upon a pedestal, one that almost resembles the one Kylo Ren stands upon."
She pauses for a second, shuffling on her knees and meeting my eyes once more. Leaving it at that, Arion then rises from her place on the floor besides the tub and motions for me to get out, handing me a towel and thin paper-like dress. She only continues talking as I dry myself off and while she begins to set up a tray beside the bed that sat in the middle of the room.
Arion listens as if my words are golden, as if it is something she's been waiting all her days to hear. From everything I say, I can tell she is thinking so deeply. In her words are a pensive concern that is so quick that proves her vulnerability; even though I am the one who is naked.
I can tell this attentiveness is apart of who she is and if I am honest, I feel safe to answer her wonders in this scary, unfamiliar place.
"There's a power to you, isn't there?" She asks, "Like a Sith or a... Jedi."
I pull the paper dress over me, one that resembles a hospital gown, and follow her to the bed, my bare feet pattering against the tiled floor. "I guess..." I furrow my brows, sitting upon the hard bed–which was more-so a table–laying back when she nudges my shoulders softly, "But, I couldn't prove such power. Us girls are not shown the force much... it's just a feeling. I can feel that it's there, but I don't know what to do with it."
"Oh." She hums, as if she actually doesn't quite care while she stretches my legs out and notices my untouched skin, "...You said 'us girls', how many are there?"
I stare at the white ceiling, not bothering to blink when the lights burn shapes into my vision. "Theres two of us and four boys," My voice croaks and tears weld in my eyes when I think of them.
Arion notices this too, so she drops the subject.
She lathers my skin in silence with more soap but this time it was more-so a foam. The stubble on my legs turns into porcelain with each stroke of the razor that Arion would swipe upwards on my leg, circling the edges and creases of my knees too delicately.
I craned my neck downwards and watched smooth skin emerge. When she was done, I sat up and ran my hand over the naked skin of my legs in awe.
"I didn't know people did this." I mumble.
"It's mostly women who do," Arion answers, "It was required in presentation... I just have to do a couple more things and you will be finally done."
The next thing she does is she begins to cut my hair a little and I think back to the times I would trim One's in the backyard. The haircut was several inches shorter than I would've preferred, but I don't protest. In the end, my locks lay on the black and white tile floor and feels odd ending on a different spot against my back when I run my fingers through it.
"Your hands," Arion holds hers out to me and I place mine in her own; flashes of Commander September's wrinkled ones fill my mind momentarily.
Arion's hands were as rough as any worker, callused and scarred at the fingertips. Whoever she was she was no higher-class, or at least she'd never been afforded the opportunity to be one.
When she cleaned the dirt from beneath my nails: inside, I said my final goodbyes to the last bit of home in which I held onto, other than the mere memories remaining within my mind's temple. Arion then reached for the powders of rouge and she applied it upon my cheeks slowly and carefully, whilst trying to make it look as natural as possible–I had heard of such a product before, Commander September even had some; Three and I would sometimes sneak it into our quarters and smear it onto our faces.
Then handing me new clothes and shoes, I put them on with no hassle. Once done, Arion called the man from before, back into the room and he shuffled me in front of a mirror. My skin was ashen, but my cheeks were bright red from the warmth of my previous bath–or maybe just the powder in which Arion smeared.
It was still me who stared back, but it didn't resemble the girl I was a day ago–and she was all I could think about when I looked at the stranger in the mirror.
"Perfect, Arion," The man praises, checking my hands and the ends of my hair. "The First Order would be pleased with your work."
I clench my eyes shut to remove the image of the girl from my mind and then focus my vision on my palms, counting the lines and creases to rid my thoughts of home and the others. My hands bore the innocence of a young girl; soft and delicate, a stark difference to Arion's, but eventually the man's grip ruins my focus.
"Come," He says, leading me back to the exit, "The StormTroopers will lead you to Commander Kylo Ren's quarters."
I glance back to Arion as I am lead away and before the doors close, I give her a genuine smile–probably the last one I will give for a while as the fright begins to settle within my bones and the nerves bubble within my belly.
I clench my fists tightly on the way to my fate's quarters, until my nails dig into the palm of my hands and draw crimson, but I barely notice. The only thing I am really aware of, is the sound of my heart throbbing against the cage of my chest. It's not until I taste blood, that I'm finally aware I've been biting the inside of my cheek so badly that it too, bleeds.
The StormTroopers guide me once more, their guns still loaded and when they finally lead me closer to a large hatch, I can sense their unease when we all notice General Hux standing before it.
"Finally," Hux sighs, raking in my form with slanted eyes. "Come, don't keep him waiting any longer."
The hatch suddenly opens and General Hux disappears inside. My feet won't move and I am apprehensive, but one Trooper nudges me with his gun. "Go," Is all he says with a robotic muffle.
Noting the weapon that is held to my back, I take a step forward into the quarters. When the hatch closes shortly after, leaving me lonesome with the General, fear suddenly creeps into my system. Now only silence lingers in the air and I shiver; a small sigh of anxiety leaping out of my mouth. Tersely, my eyes flicker to my surroundings, ready for danger.
It was a square grey entry that lead to a joint kitchen and lounging area, with large windows in straight rows that showed only the empty galaxy beyond. Much like the room I had just come from, this space was wide and open, with spotless tiles and blinding lights illuminating it all.
General Hux moves further in, and I follow. Every piece of furniture looked uncomfortable and unused. There was nothing about this home in the very least picturesque or attractive, for it was far too modern to at all suggest anything homely. It is like a fortress, with more security gadgets locking the doors than imaginable.
"Ren," Hux suddenly calls with disinterest, and my heart nearly drops to my feet.
Standing before one of the large windows is a tall, masked man who is draped in thick layers of black. His back somehow incredibly wide and toned even beneath the layers.
I am scared. So scared; and I know the man at the window will be able to sense it as much as I can sense Hux's revulsion. The fear sits on me like a pillow over my mouth and nose. Enough air gets by it, allowing my body to keep functioning, but it's crippling all the same. Dread owns me, pushing against me like an invisible force, attempting to reverse my steps back–back out of these quarters, out of Finalizer and back home.
This dread has my stomach locked up tight, twisting and tugging at my heart with all its might. The figure turns and somehow he looks even taller than from behind. He takes careful steps closer to us but still keeps his distance as if he doesn't wish to be here in the first place, much like I do.
"Hux," An electric voice comes from the mask. Deep and jutting.
I can see dots forming in the corners of my vision and the gentle tug of my faintness, dragging my conscious to someplace much safer–but my legs are stiff and willing, and the adrenaline soaring through my veins won't allow me to truely pass out in front of someone so nefarious.
A muscle twitched involuntarily at the corner of Hux's right eye, his mouth formed a rigid grimace at the mention of his name so powerless, "I'm sure you are aware that I am here to provide you with Snoke's gift," He curtly says.
I'm not a person nor a womb now, I am an object–a gift. Bile rises in my throat and I feel sweat glisten at the back of my neck.
Ren doesn't respond.
"Do what you wish with it," General Hux glares, speaking about me as if I didn't stand a couple centimetres behind him, "Just make sure you complete your requirements."
Hux's words caused waves of nausea that added to my misery. An overwhelming sense of repulse flooding my system in a harsh strike threatening a tsunami. It hit me hard, causing me to swallow my spit but my throat kept clenching. I stood paralysed and when I realised what was happening, my heart felt as if it was slowly and painfully bruising at my understanding.
I was cursed with disgust and the force. When my disgust had mixed with the sense of Kylo Ren's inner feelings, it was too much to handle. Kylo Ren was also repulsed.
I try to contain myself and ground my fingernails into my palms once more. Then, General Hux suddenly turns on his heels and leaves–leaving me and Kylo alone in his own chambers. I turn and allow my eyes to follow the flame of hair, hoping that even the horrible General would curse at me to follow, taking me far away from the apprentice whom looms above my frame–exuding such an energy, such a force in which I had never sensed before.
I felt like a mouse to a cat. Only Ren was a ferocious lion.
My mouth goes dry and I fight the urge to chew the inside of my cheek nervously again, as the taste of blood still lingers with a tang of metallic. While, the silence pierces my eardrums, I lick my chapped lips and swallow the hard lump in my throat, turning finally to face the masked man in black.
"Embrace your destiny," I rasp, my voice sounding small and brittle–like a child.
"Don't," The mask snaps and suddenly the figure is lunging closer towards me in large, quick steps.
I couldn't breathe as he stood before me because it felt as if someone had their hand tightly wrapped around my throat–I would have supposed he was using the force to choke me, but it was only my own fear who did this to me. It was like a noose of trepidation, curing up my legs and tightening around my lungs; pulling the wind from my chest and leaving me heaving.
"You are not welcome here," Kylo Ren spits through the mask, holding a gloved finger to my face. "I suggest you just understand your purpose and nothing more if you wish to make this easy upon yourself."
I try to speak, but my voice fails, only leaving a faint croak to escape my lips.
"Do you have a name?" Kylo asks, hatred evident in his tone.
I clear my throat, "Yes."
"What is it?"
"Six," My lips speak and I stare into the abyss that was the eyes of his mask. I wondered what he looked beneath the mask and if he would be more intimidating with or without it. He lowers his finger from my face and I notice him etch the gloved hand to the lightsaber which sat in his belt beneath the robes, still intimidating me never-less.
"I can sense your fear, Six."
Shocking, I think to myself. He did just threaten me.
"It is stronger than I have ever felt," He calmly says, it is as if he wasn't simply yelling in my face two seconds earlier, "I cannot tell if that is because you are incredibly weak like a timid mouse, or if it is because of the force throbbing within your blood."
I can feel that blood he spoke about, staining my fingertips–pooling in my palms and soaking upon my tongue.
"I do not know either, Sir." I utter.
Suddenly, air can be heard cursing in the silence as he begins to remove his helmet.
"Lets hope it is the latter for your sake," A deep voice breathes. "–For I only kill mice."
I refuse to look at him as I only nod, counting the cracks in his tiling to ease my nerves.
"Which do you think?" He adds, taunting me; maybe he likes to play with his food before he devours it?
"–Are you a timid mouse?"
My blood begins to boil and I snap my head up as the words fly out of my mouth before my mind can catch up,
"No, though you must wish I was."
My words nearly fall limp in the air as I take in his face for the first time–though my pride and anger does shatter upon the floor around my feet.
Tousled dark brown hair, which was thick and lustrous, carved like soft waves around his face which held a set of mesmerising eyes–eyes that even the swipes from the ugly lights above, decided was a home to perform flecks of auburn light, which swam laps around the deep brown; wondrously.
This man had the kind of face made the galaxy pause around you for a nano-second and I guess he must get that all the time, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they looked his way.
"Maybe," He purses his lips, looking me down and then right through me. I felt so incredibly worthless beneath his gaze that I struggled to stare into his own, "But we will see what you are... for fate may change you."
I can tell he wants to pull me into his challenge with a full force throttle that resembles an emotional hurricane. I can feel his winds clipping my core, tempting me to jump in, to take up the thrill of the challenge, and I give in.
"Do you believe in fate, or do you think you will be the one to control it?" I find my courage once more, choosing to ignore his attraction and simply seeing the bane of his horrific soul instead.
He squints, looking into my eyes as if he was searching for something and then the rest of my face as if he was mapping it out in the back of his mind. I stare back and I am stuck in a defiant gaze–though, I am clearly struggling within, fighting with myself on whether I should break and blink, or let my eyes dry up so much they water. I can only wish upon the stars that he cannot sense the conflict within me.
"Don't get yourself killed with that mouth and you may find out eventually," He threatens once more and I see that his ferocious tone simply acts as a sort of psychological control.
My stomach churns at the realisation that destiny has desired my life to either be spent forevermore with the evil man before me, or to die by his hand.
"We will see," I mimic his own words–but something told that only death was to come, and it was going to be brought along with darkness and shadows, the same as the void which lives inside Kylo Ren's gloomy eyes.
Kylo's jaw clenches and I can practically see the red bubbling behind those treacherous, brown eyes. It feels like time has stopped for a moment as the air stands silent and suspended as he just watches me.
"Your room is to the left," He finally breaks the silence, and I suck a sharp breath inwards–unbeknownst to the fact that I had been starving myself from oxygen in the meantime. "Do not ever come into mine unless invited."
I meekly nod, wishing that death would almost come sooner–and spare me from the way he takes another glance, dismissing me, "Go."
I will my feet to move and make my way to the only door to the left wall; his room, I presume is the one on the other side.
Kylo Ren spoke like he came from nothing but darkness, and he seemed to suck in the light around him as he stood in his own personal gloom. He stared my way and I didn't miss him when I closed the door behind me.