Work Header

(you bring silence to) My Violent Truth

Work Text:

He moved savagely, whole bodily, every movement an attack. Moves to defend himself were turned into offensive ones; a block twisted down and sideways into a spin that left the enemy’s side unguarded and vulnerable to a lightsaber thrust.

Three Knights of Ren lay defeated, dismembered limbs occasionally acting as obstacles under his boots. A thick smell hung in the room, a copper tang that stayed cloyingly in the back of his throat and beneath the faint smell of burnt bacon that became stronger whenever he successfully severed another body part from his enemies. The two still alive were both attacking him at once but they were tiring, accumulating minute mistakes that he took advantage of ruthlessly.

Slightly too much weight left on a back leg during a left handed swing had the knight’s center of gravity dangerously off for them to continue with the logical follow up attack. Kylo adjusted his grip backwards on the hilt of his saber while ducking and rolling to kick at the other knight’s ankle before flipping back up and stabbing forward into and through the knight’s briefly unguarded face. Before the corpse had fully collapsed to the ground, Kylo was facing the last knight whose ankle he had just kicked.

The grin that cracked his face open was all teeth and gums, vicious and victorious as they circle each other. The steady background hum of their lightsabers became a loud crackle as they clashed, the noise echoed off the plain walls of the hall while they attempted to murdered the other. There was little finesse left in this battle as they strike continuously. The brute strength and reach of Kylo’s large form granted him the upper hand against the more willowy form of the Zabrack. Red saber clashed against red saber and disengaged repeatedly as Kylo used the rhythm of the strikes to lure his final opponent into a sense of false comfort.

Then the knight made a fatal mistake and he was within Kylo’s guard. The overstretch of his opponents dueling arm was just enough for him to slip his saber under the soft of the armpit and shove up, through the synovial joint, simultaneously cutting off the knight’s arm and cauterizing the flesh as a small scream of pain escaped from his gritted teeth. Kyo used the distraction of the pain to lop off the other arm at the elbow, then sent him sprawling with a kick to the chest. A quick downward movement and his saber was already being depowered as the horned head rolled.

The assassination attempt was not unexpected, if a bit poorly timed. It would have more convenient for him if they had waited until after he’d finished reading the paperwork he was headed to his quarters to begin on but at least it was over now and one less factor he had to continue managing. Adrenaline was pumping through his nervous system, sparkling across all his senses and heightening his Force awareness of the everything around him.

The normal ambiance of the dreadnought ship didn’t dramatically halt when the knights had turned on him, and the isolated hallway he stood in wouldn’t remain empty for much longer. Kylo could feel the normal small flickers in the back of his head that made up the 2.25 million personnel living on the Supremacy that he was responsible for. The circuitry and currents that kept the ship powered buzz quietly underneath it all. Beyond that was the vastness of space and the Force merged with it, relentlessly hungry. The lights of the five men he one called brothers-in-arms were snuffed out and swallowed whole into the maw of the beyond.

A patrol was scheduled in another three minutes to go through this walkway but it was possible that those Storm Troopers were lying dead in a supply closet somewhere. The security cameras had been obviously tampered with by the lack of reinforcement that never arrived to assist the new Supreme Leader. Either way he knew the mess would be discovered soon and his lack of corpse among them would be clue enough as to what happened. Adjusting his cloak, he took a last glance at the bodies of the people he once knew better than he knew himself and strode away, refusing to let the situation mean more to him more than another challenge to his leadership. Easily dealt with and already over.

Within moments he’d made the last few twists and turns to his rooms. As the main door slid open, that unmistakable numbing of reality heralding the arrival of HER, overtook his senses. The Force had activated their connection again, lifting the veil of space between their unseen selves so that even with parsecs between them they are together.

Immediately, dread and anticipation in equal measure squeezed his heart while his muscles tensed in preparation of another fight. His lightsaber crackled to life in a useless but comforting move as he stepped into the room and the door slid shut behind him. Eyes swept his surroundings wearily, and he finds her. She is asleep. Messy brown hair sprawled across his standard issue pillow, her breathing steady but quiet, body curled into itself and uncomfortably tense looking.

She sleeps as lightly as a stormtrooper, this scavenger girl of his, body always prepared to wake up at any moment and fight back against night time attackers seeking to take advantage of her. It was a sleep style he shared, never able to fall into a deep, healthy rest since the night he woke up to his uncle preparing to strike him down in his sleep like a dog.

He stood feeling on the edge, tense for an attack. The room was blissfully quiet, deceptively peaceful in a way he hadn’t experienced since he was too young to appreciate it. The squelch of blood soaked into the leather tread of his combat boots was obscenely loud as he took a few steps into the center of the room, a drying trail of deep red into brown marring the floor as he moves forward, eyes never leaving her small form laid out on his bed.

He wanted to wake her up, see the surprise in her eyes as he unleashed all the pent up energy coiled within him. Strike out in mindless fury at the bed and walls and destroy everything like she destroyed their everything. Make her understand how much she hurt him.

He wanted to wake her up with his face between her thighs and discover if she was as feisty and demanding in bed as she was in all other aspects of their relationship.

He wanted to wake her up gently, running his fingers through her hair and to the cheerful noise of their children getting ready for the day in the next room.

He wanted to wake her up by gripping both her arms and just shaking violently until her head was rattling back and forth and some damn common sense came to her. Wake her up and make her understand she needs to stop holding on, to let go. To come back to him. Come home to him.

But at the end he didn’t do any of those things because more than anything he just wanted her near him. And this, her asleep, was the calmest they’d been together in such a long time that he couldn’t help but soak it in.

Taking pains to move as quietly as possible he made his way to the bed, powering off his lightsaber and gently lying his saber down on the utilitarian bedside table. An unspoken peace offering she would never be aware of.

His black hair was matted together with sweat and blood from the one Knight he had killed by Force slamming their head into the floor over and over again, until it cracked open like a lylek’s egg, blood splattering and running everywhere. His own tangled locks were beginning to stick to his forehead. Pulling his gloves off and dropping them carelessly on the ground, he roughly ran his fingers through his hair, raking it back until it stayed out of his face.

Lowering himself to the ground as carefully as possible, he began the arduous process of unbuckling and toeing off his boots before peeling off his socks. The cowl was next, unwound from his neck and tossed haphazardly in the direction of his boots. His cloak followed, unfastened and shoved off to the side before he peeled off his other layers and threw them away, until all that was left on were his pants and soft undershirt.

Finally comfortable, back resting against the side of the bed, he carefully dropped his head back until it rested on the mattress near her’s. Staring up at the ceiling in this dimly lit room he breathed in carefully, holding it before letting go to match the steady in-and-out of hers.

Near her but not as much as he’d wish. The whole situation is seven different types of wrong but for just this stolen moment, he refused to let himself think about it.They had fought each other before and doubtlessly they would fight and hurt each other again. In the end she might be his death or conversely he hers.

But this quiet moment of togetherness, here and now, felt achingly right and good.