His sudden anger was very clear to Cyra as they fought through the Guardians of Corvax Fen. She assumed these red-dressed people were members of Alazmec of Winsit, the Darth Vader worshipers Ben wanted to find first. She thought they were going to ask questions first and do the fighting later, but Ben apparently switched to comply to his own agenda.
He slammed through the first member that confronted them at their landed ship. From there, Cyra had to pull her lightsaber fast to defend against the frightened and defensive worshipers. Where she was only slashing to disarm or knock out those who crossed her path, Ben was simply slaughtering everyone in sight.
As he was ahead of her, she didn't have many people to fight against. He killed the majority. She stepped carefully between their strung bodies, her face frozen in fear as she saw the singed circle of a lightsaber stab in each of their bodies. She tore her eyes away from the bodies to find his tall figure among the crowd.
She watched him grab the shirt of a worshiper and slam his body down to the ground so hard he could not even move to get up. Seconds later, Ben pulled another to his arm and shoved the saber through his abdomen.
"Ben!" Cyra snapped, finally, having seen enough.
Ben released the body and let it fall. He turned to face her, the sweat on his forehead crinkling the hair across his head into waves. His eyes were feral. His posture was hunched, in fighting stance, and his lightsaber was tightly pressed into his hand.
"Ben," she said again, slower. "What the hell was that?"
"I sense something," he said, turning away from her. He stepped carelessly over the bodies he just murdered and walked briskly into the charred trees.
He was different. Something about this place was altering his mind. He disappeared into the trees and Cyra was forced to track him through the ash covered ground, looking for where the white footprints led her. She was warm, the climate of Mustafar well over what she was used to. The planet was straight red when they saw it from space and she knew why now--it was covered in lava and active volcanoes.
A crack shifted Cyra's head to trace the loud noise. She saw Ben standing over a podium, the crack having been him pushing a concrete slab off of the podium. His hand reached into the stand and he pulled out a triangular shaped prism, beaming bright green. He turned to show it to Cyra.
"What is it?" she asked.
"It's a Wayfinder," he said.
She didn't want to question how he knew. She sighed. "A finder to what?"
"Let's find out," said Ben, already starting to push past her.
"Hold on, hold on," she snapped, grabbing his arm to hold him in place. He tensed under her grip, something he had not done in a long time. They both separated.
Ben held the Wayfinder closer to his chest.
Cyra squinted. "What is with you right now? We landed on this planet and you killed everyone. We were supposed to talk with them, see if they knew anything about Palpatine."
"They weren't going to cooperate," he said immediately. His eyes held to hers for a brief moment before he looked away, seemingly speaking faster than what he believed in.
"You don't know that," argued Cyra, shaking her head. She looked around, her fingers wiggling uncomfortably. "Ben, you're scaring me. This place is scaring me. I feel...so dark. Dark energy here."
While Cyra was clearly physically uncomfortable by the pure energy exuding from the planet, Ben seemed to revel in it. "I feel it, too," he said casually, ignoring how Cyra felt about it. "It led me to the Wayfinder. These people must have found it in Vader's castle, kept it safe."
"Vader's castle?" asked Cyra.
"It's no longer upright. I'm sure the remains are here, but in case you haven't noticed, volcanos are all over this planet. The terrain changes often. Vader's base was here, this was his home world," he explained. He pointed vaguely into the distance. "The cults been here for a long time, trying to summon the Force, become as powerful as he was."
"You've visited them before?"
"Once or twice, in my youth," he said. "Doesn't matter now. We've got a Wayfinder. We have to see where it leads to."
Cyra didn't have to reach for him to stop him in his tracks. Her tone of voice, the anger, the finality did it for him: "No, we're going to report back to the ship and let them monitor it."
Ben looked at her pointedly. "No, we need to find Palpatine."
"You need to be away from this planet immediately," she snapped. "It's changing you."
"It is not. I want this to be over, I want to end Palpatine so we can continue living our lives."
Cyra shook her head. Though she didn't realize it, Ben saw her hand tighten around her lightsaber as she held out her free hand towards him. "Give me the Wayfinder."
His own grip tightened. His shoulders turned away from her. "No."
Cyra reached for it and he growled at her under his breath, his lightsaber suddenly up at her throat. She did not fear him, but she stared at its jagged tip underneath her chin and she brought her eyes along the blade of his weapon, to where he was staring wide eyed at her.
"Ben, let it go," she said quietly.
He dropped the Wayfinder. She kept her hands raised as she lowered herself to the floor and picked it up. She turned on her heel and started to walk away, distancing herself from Ben. He was different. He would feel awful about pulling his weapon on her, but it helped him to see where he was at mentally. It was the same way he was about being in the presence of Vader's helmet. Something about the darkness of his grandfather pulled him from whatever progress they had made to introduce him to the light... She didn't know if she could keep risking her life to bring him back from the darkness. One day, it would cease to work.
She went back to the ship and settled the Wayfinder into her bag. She waited at the passengers seat, readying her controls. Ben was far behind, but he eventually returned to the ship and sat in the pilots chair. They were silent. He adjusted his controls and waited for her to buckle in, his hand on the lever to jump them into space.
"I'm sorry," he said softly.
Cyra nodded, her eyes ahead. "I know."
They returned to the ship and upon landing, Cyra handed the Wayfinder to a Trooper, ordering him to monitor it for anything they could gather from it. Data, a path, anything. She wanted a report as soon as they could gather one.
Ben followed behind her as she parted ways with the Wayfinder and started to reutrn to their quarters. She sat on the couch, for a moment, before he sat on the couch with her, and she suddenly decided she wanted to take a shower instead.
Ben followed her into the bathroom, blocking her from closing the door.
Cyra's eyes were deadly as she looked up at him. "Yes, can I help you?"
"Cyra, I'm sorry," he told her softly.
"I know that. Thanks," she said. She tried once more to close the door. She continued to hit the back of the door against his back, pretending he was not there.
Ben stepped past her to avoid the door hitting him again. Cyra closed it and turned to face him, leaning against it.
"This is what I meant by telling you I'm too far gone," he told her, sighing. "This is what I meant by saying I don't want you around when I leave this ship. The person I am with you is not the person I am when you're not around. I don't know why. I'm sorry."
"I don't know either," she said, short. She met his eyes, but she was clearly drained from the days events, physically and emotionally. "Can I shower now, please, Ben? Please."
"I'm telling you that I'm sorry. I thought I was better. I thought I could go with your way, talk to those people, but I stepped foot no that planet and it was like everything I've build with you was blocked from my memory. I saw red. I felt something calling me, the Wayfinder, and I needed to get to it, at any cost," he continued to explain, reaching for her hand. She allowed him to take it, but didn't tighten her grip around his hand.
"Then maybe you shouldn't be the one going to see Palpatine if you're so easily swayed to the Dark Side," she said snarkily.
Ben scoffed. "You're not going by yourself."
"So then it looks then like we both aren't going," said Cyra, shrugging her shoulders. "And once again, I propose leaving all of this crap."
"Cyra--"
"No, you admitting that the Dark Side still entices you is telling me that you like the person you've become. You like who you are with me, you admit that you are better, that you're closer to the light because of me. A year of being patient with you, of figuring out who we are together, of reminding myself that I love you so much I would give myself a seizure, or get shot, or fight for you, and it's all undone because of some bad energy," she snapped. She took her hand back from him when his face started to morph, trying to understand and take in her sudden outburst.
Cyra pushed past him to look at herself in the mirror. She started to brush through her hair with her fingers, focusing on anything else and not the man in the bathroom with her.
Ben, again, didn't know what to say. He pretended to not notice her trying to turn him back to the light for a year, simply because he loved having her around him. He loved pretending like they were elsewhere and not in the middle of a war. but even that took a toll on Cyra, who had been hidden away from the rest of the ship for a year, her only activities being limited to reading, training, and trying to love him.
"I'm sorry," was all he could say. It was for how he acted earlier that day. It was for confining her to their quarters, for being so difficult to love, for leaving her for the Dark Side almost seven years ago. "You deserve better than this."
"I do," she muttered, glancing at his reaction. He was not shocked she agreed. "But I can't. I cant leave you behind."
"I know," he said. He scratched the back of his neck. "You're just frustrated by it all. Don't apologize. I know it's hard for you to keep hope. It's hard for me to let you down. But I have. Everyday since you've been here."
There was nothing more to say. Cyra was devastated by what occurred on Mustafar. A year of progress, of manifestation and pure hope that Ben would soon choose to end all of this was ripped from them in mere seconds. She didn't know where to go from this. She let herself down, Luke, Han, Leia, the galaxy--by failing to turn Ben. She didn't know if she could continue this for years. She didn't know if she could leave him. She had no idea what to do.
Ben didn't know what to do either. He felt disappointed every night that she believed there was still hope for him, when he knew he could never turn. He could feel her love, he could be in love with her, show mercy, restrict himself from the anger and the grief, and whatever negative emotions he used to use to fuel his connection to the Dark. But Ben could never join the Resistance. He'd done too much. He had killed people, their people. Han. His only option was to run away from all of it with Cyra, but even that was barely an option, as they had discussed so many times before.
He was appalled by how insistent she was on staying. He was stuck. He was stuck in his position between staying int he Order and whatever other options he had, but she wasn't. She could have left at any time and he would have let her, with no search party, no worry. She deserved better than what this ship and this life by his side held for her, and yet, she refused.
"This isn't going to go the way you planned, Cyra," he muttered. "I can't go back to my mother. The Resistance. This is it for me. But it isn't for you."
"Stop," she muttered, turning to face him. She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not leaving you."
"But you could," he told her. "I would understand."
Cyra scoffed. "I'm all you have, Ben, I've seen your life, and you are not busy. You're alone and cold and with nobody to be with you. Even if I did leave, the Resistance could never make me feel the way I do with you."
Ben paused. Her reaction was not news to him. Some part of him wanted to give up, allow her to stay, but there remained a piece of the old Ben, deep inside, who would not stop until Cyra was safe and out of his life. "Sure. But could you kill your friends? Rey?"
Cyra didn't hesitate to disagree.
"Then you should be prepared to run," he told her honestly. "If you choose to stay with me, in the First Order, you risk the chance of the Resistance killing you, or you having to kill the Resistance. If they are indeed building their ranks and planning an attack, you need to run."
"Not without you," she shrugged.
"Cyra," said Ben pointedly.
"I don't know," she said, exasperated, running her hands through her hair. She squeezed her bunched hair at the scalp. "I can't see myself without you again, Ben. I don't know if I want to, even though I know I should put myself first, it's you, it's you not being alone ever again."
It felt like Cyra could not give him up, and he understood. He told her she was free to leave, but he wondered if he could genuinely watch her leave again. He supposed he didn't have to, with how insistent she was on staying with him. He felt awful he could not fulfill her wish of leaving the Order. Not yet, at least...
"I don't know what I even expected to happen," she muttered, rubbing her hands across her face. "I thought I could change all of this. Turn you, save you, save Leia, end the war. Just by showing you that you weren't too far gone, that you were still capable of love. And what did I do instead? Sit here, in the same room, for a year. Have a seizure."
"You changed me," he disagreed quietly, nudging his foot against hers. "Just because the outcome you wanted isn't a reality doesn't mean the progress hasn't meant anything. I want to leave, Cyra, but--"
"You can't, I know," she interrupted quickly. She send him a rigid thumbs-up, tired of hearing the same excuse from him. "That hasn't changed."
"It doesn't mean it won't," he tried to say.
"But it won't," she said, shrugging. "I don't know what you're waiting for. The longer you wait to do this, the longer the Resistance has to attack, the more weapons the First Order builds, the more the people of the galaxy are oppressed, and you and I have done nothing except sit here and be together."
Ben remained quiet again. She was venting. He couldn't blame her for being frustrated. He had nothing to say. Where he could offer comfort, he tried, but there was an underlying agreement that Cyra was tired of her life with him and wanted out, but was stuck in the same situation he was. Wanting, but not being able to make it a reality.
Once more, she took a deep breath and rubbed the tear stains from underneath her eyes. It was apparent she also had nothing more to say.
"Alright," she said, flashing a quick smile at herself. "Well, I have a headache now from crying, and I'd like to take a shower, so you can join me or you can leave the bathroom."
Ben felt his face flush. Despite being together for the past year, they hadn't entered back into the realm of intimacy they explored when they were teenagers. He still felt mildly uncomfortable cuddling her, even already knowing what her body looked like, even loving her. He had fallen so far from a position to love her intimately. He feared it would strengthen their connection, cause her more of a reason to not leave him. Regardless of her incessant want to stay with him, part of him still hoped sometimes that he could anger her enough to leave...To save herself from the dread of living in the First Order.
It had been a year, he reminded himself. She stayed after an entire year and although she was showing signs of regret, her genuine tears portrayed exactly the conflict in her heart. She knew she should leave, but her love for Ben would not allow her to. It didn't matter what Ben did to her. He left her, he hurt her, he did a number of things that would cause any sane person to leave and never turn back. But Cyra returned. She was not sane and that was clear solely due to the fact that she took it upon herself to change the tide of the war...Nobody sane would try such a feat.
Cyra looked at him when he didn't move. Pushing her hip against the bathroom sink, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Ben," she muttered, causing his head to tilt up at her. She raised her eyebrows, amused. "I'm joking. You don't have to think decades about it."
Ben offered a smile himself. His hand went from fiddling in his lap to grabbing hers, his eyes staring down at her. "What if I wanted to?" he mumbled. "Is the offer still there?"
Surprised, Cyra nodded once slowly. Her eyes squinted at him as he stepped closer to her. "You're going to join me in the shower? You know what that means, don't you?"
Ben nodded. He felt his hands start to shake, the nerves of what could go wrong filling over any other thought in his head. He settled his hands on her cheeks, causing her to put her own hands on his wrists. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
She felt herself start to melt into his touch. She didn't know what was going on. Ben hadn't once initiated intimacy between them since her time with him. She still registered his anxiety when they did something as simple as laying together in bed. But she decided to follow his lead, tread slowly, because although they had been intimate before, it didn't mean in any sense that it would be the same as when they were kids. Their time together revealed a lot about the people they had grown to become, and one thing that was astronomically different than before was how uncomfortable the two had grown to the concept of intimacy.
Her hands fell from his wrists and to the bottom of his shirt, instead. She tugged on it lightly. His hands found hers and he broke away from her lips to pull off his shirt, revealing a baggy long sleeved shirt. She laughed, he rolled his eyes, and he pulled off his second shirt, too.
She had little to no reaction over seeing his abdomen, given that he typically slept shirtless anyway. Her hands on his skin was not new, but somehow, this time, he shivered under her touch. He could feel the smile on her lips even as they continued to kiss.
His hands returned to her waist, sliding down and to her thighs, where she quickly got the hint and wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted her to sit on the counter top of the bathroom sink.
She pulled away from him to pull off her own shirt. Ben looked down at her chest, but his eyes returned quickly to her eyes. He leaned in to kiss her and she leaned back, a smirk on her lips. He frowned, trying again, and Cyra put two fingers to his chin, pointing it downwards.
"You can look, Ben," she mumbled, taking her hand back as she sat up again. "Nothing you haven't seen before."
"It's just been a while," he muttered. His hands settled on her waist as she rested her forehead against his chest. He moved his hands up her back, his fingers tapping the strap of her bra before he trickled back down.
Cyra lifted her head to look at him. She raised her hand to his face, leaning it against his cheek, her thumb rubbing up and down the side of his neck. She admired him. He was everything she had ever wanted in a lover since before she could remember. They had been together so long it was impossible to see herself with anyone else, impossible to think about her love being given to anyone else. Her thoughts from as long as she could think back to regarding the perfect man were always him and his tall stature, that wavy hair, the soft, misguided eyes.
She still found him, sometimes--the old Ben, hidden in the persona of Kylo Ren he had grown to adopt. There were times when his posture was hunched, his muscles were loose, and his lips would turn into a smile that she saw him and fell in love all over again. He had lost the boyish charm that often claimed her heart, but he gained some sense of maturity, confidence that replaced it. While she couldn't claim to love every part of the person he'd grown to be, she did find remnant of the reasons she loved him in the first place. She wondered if he thought age had suited her well, too...
"Yes," he chuckled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "You've been beautiful since the day I met you."
"You don't even remember the day we met," reminded Cyra.
"Whatever my earliest recollection of you is, then," he corrected. "You are the only woman for me, Cyra. I only have eyes for you."
"Oh, is that so?" she mumbled, smiling at him. "I couldn't tell by the way you never moved on from me, even after you thought I was dead."
"No point in trying to top the woman I planned to make my wife," he said quietly.
He and Cyra simultaneously froze, registering his words. Ben's eyes were wide, in shock to what he admitted to her, while Cyra was looking at him with surprise.
"I--" he tried to say at the same time Cyra said, "Wow."
"You wanted to marry me?" she wondered. Ben stepped back from her when he saw tears start to well in her eyes. He panicked, unsure of what he said that was wrong. He didn't mean it as an insult, or a rude comment--
Cyra's hands covered her face. He watched her shoulders start to shake with a soft cry and he stood a few steps away from her, frozen, completely unsure of what to do or what caused her to cry.
"I thought that might have been common knowledge," he said quietly, trying to explain himself. "Uh, you know, when we were younger. Before I left for training. After, even. I always imagined us together, in a ship, exploring...Together...More officially than just being, um, together."
"No, I know," she said, wiping her tears. Her face squished as she closed her eyes shut to stop more tears from falling. Her voice was cracking, even though she spoke as quietly as possible. "I just...That sucks to hear, you know? Thinking about us being married, what could have been. Who could've been there," she whispered, and Ben knew why the thought of marriage was hard for her to hear. Her father.
"We can't change the past. No point in dwelling on it," he mumbled, repeating a variation of words she herself had said to him.
She chuckled, but it lacked any humor, only irony. She rubbed her fists into her eye sockets, taking a deep breath.
"Maybe we should head to bed, instead," he offered.
She frowned. "I'm sorry, Ben."
"No, don't. Don't be. You just shower and I'll be in bed when you come out," he offered, wrapping her into a tight hug. He kissed the top of her head. "Alright?"
"Alright," she agreed quietly.
He pulled away, bending down to catch her eye. He waited for her to smile softly before he nodded and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He distanced himself immediately from her, trying to mask his disarray of emotions. She didn't need to be muddled by his emotions, too, when she had enough to think about.
He couldn't submit to what could truly make her happy, but he could try to ease the agony it was to remain on the ship with him, try to make up for the day he put her through.
Ben grabbed her datapad from the couch and ordered Ahrisa, a bread delicacy she adored as a child, and had it waiting for her on the bed when she exited from the bathroom. She asked the droid for a drink that would make her forget the day, Ben agreed, and the two spent the remainder of their night drinking and dining, reminiscing on the days before all of this... Who they were as children, the lives they used to live--pretending for just one more night that they were not in a war, like their biggest worry was becoming comfortable in their relationship instead of a risen Sith Lord from the dead.
Again, Ben coaxed her into ignoring the state of the galaxy, ignoring that he could not leave the First Order behind. He got her to think about their relationship and commit to ignorance for one night, their last night, before he knew everything was going to return to a state of war.