Sulit [ Ben Solo ]

III.

CHAPTER THREE
[ the interrogation! ]

They had taken her to the room they'd kept the pilot in, and restrained her on the same contraption. It was laughable, really, yet, she stayed. She wanted to meet Ren.

It wasn't long before the door opened and the masked man walked through. She watched him intently, eyes never leaving his mask, where she assumed his eyes were.

He sat down in a chair across from her and stared into her eyes. Dressed in all black and with that terrible mask, she presumed most would tremble at the sight. Instead she stared longer, forcing him to speak first.

"Who are you?" His mask not only masked his face but his voice. Of course.

"Nobody special," she answered. "Where exactly am I? Your. . . interrogation room? Torture chamber?"

"You're my guest." She cocked a brow, tilting her head to the side just slightly. "Or my intruder, if you prefer."

"What you call me does not matter."

"No," he agreed. "How do you know the pilot?"

She didn't answer. "Is there a person under there? A real man? Or is it a frightened boy?"

"I'm looking for a droid. A BB unit. Orange and white paint. Do you know it?"

"I'm afraid not," she answered truthfully.

"Are you with the Resistance?"

"No." Not formally, at least.

"Where did you find a lightsaber?"

She smirked. "Ask me without the mask and maybe I'll answer." She wouldn't, but she wanted to see him.

He hesitated for a moment, she saw it. But then he stood, reached his hands up to his head, and pulled the mask off. When he straightened after taking it off he met her eyes, and her heart skipped a beat.

He was gorgeous. She tried not to gape, but stars, she'd never seen anyone so pleasing. Dark, midnight black hair, fair skin, beautiful dark eyes, and lips— stars, his lips.

"Oh," she breathed, her composure faltering. He noticed and approached her, setting the mask down on the chair. He whispered to her, sending shivers down her spine.

"I can take whatever I want." She shuddered. His real voice was intoxicating. "You know I can. Just answer my questions."

A leather gloved hand caressed her forehead, almost with a lover's touch, and she felt him prodding at her mind. She gathered herself and pushed back, keeping him at bay and trying to enter his own mind. It was impossible. But neither gave up and after a few minutes he took a step back and stopped. Both of their heads throbbed.

"You can't get in my head," she said. "You won't."

"You've been trained." He examined her expression carefully, as if he could discern something from it. "By who?"

He felt her strength. The raw power simmering inside that she hadn't let out in so long. It scared him.

"You're afraid," she realized, almost laughing. "Scared that someone might be stronger than you are. Terrified that you will never be as strong or as feared as Darth Vader was."

He stepped back farther. "You don't know—"

"Don't I?"

"Who are you?" He asked for the second time.

"Asteria Rhyos," she introduced, speaking her name confidently. She knew he would find no record of her anywhere. Technically speaking, she and her planet did not exist. "Who are you, Kylo Ren?"

He froze, just for a second. Then, without another word, he put his mask back on and exited the room.

An hour later, she was taken by a damned army of stormtroopers to a new room. This one was larger, more secure, and it had a bed. She was officially a prisoner. Again.

Leia was not going to be happy. Nor were Valda, Nascha and Salōmē, who she hadn't even told before she left. Oh, she would hear an earful when she saw them again.

The next day she was brought food and water, which she did not touch. Instead she told the officer that brought it not to bother bringing her any again. The day after that, they brought it again. And again, and again. Finally, on the fifth day, Ren came himself. Unmasked.

"You're not eating," he said after walking through the door, tray of food in his hand. "Why?"

"Would you, if you were held captive by the Resistance?"

"You think we're trying to poison you."

"You mistake me, Ren," she said. "I think nothing of the sort. Though I would not put such an act past you, I simply am not hungry."

He didn't believe her. To prove that it was not poisoned, something of which she had not accused him, he took a piece of bread from the tray and tore some off, then put it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. He set the tray down in front of her and waited, showing her nothing was happening.

She watch him intently, her eyes on his mouth. She then looked away and told him, her voice soft, "I'm not hungry."

"It's been five days."

"And I'm not hungry."

Truthfully, it wouldn't have been a problem if she never ate again. Areathians didn't die of starvation or thirst. The only way they could die was if they were physically wounded. For them, eating and drinking was nothing more than a pleasure. While it gave them some energy, it was not required.

Asteria just wanted to see what he'd do.

"I apologize if that angers you," she said. She could see it, boiling under the surface. But he didn't let it out.

"Eat," he commanded. When she didn't move, he said it again, only this time with his hand outstretched toward her, using the Force.

"Why?" She asked. "Why does it matter to you if I eat anything or not? If I die of starvation on your ship, well, that is one less person in your way."

"My Master will want you alive."

"You haven't told him yet." A smile pulled her lips upward. "There is a Force user locked up on your base, and you haven't told your Master. Why?"

"I don't know who you are yet."

"I told you my name—"

"That name doesn't appear in any archives."

"For a reason," she replied. "That name was erased from all archives and memory years ago. So that men like you can't find my planet or my people."

"Men like me," he echoed, almost looking hurt. She could feel his sadness then. His loneliness. His pain.

It hit her all at once and she realized, in a single second, that he was not who she thought he was.

He was gone before she could say a thing on her newfound revelation.