Breeder ~ A Kylo Ren Fanfiction

64

"Wake up." Two days after my stay in the box, Ben shook me out of my slumber. I didn't know what time of day it was, only that I had no interest in leaving the warmth of his bed. "You need to get dressed."

"Why?" I asked groggily.

"There's no time to explain- put this on."

On the contrary, there was plenty of time. It took several minutes to slip into the dark purple dress he provided me with, Ben assisting me with the buttons and even running a comb through my coily hair, only stopping when I squeaked from pain. If he wanted me to know why I needed to put on a formal dress for the first time since the last banquet weeks ago, he could have done so in the time it took to ready me. No, he kept his mouth shut for a reason.

It still hurt to walk, so I leaned on the commander's arm, though he hardly seemed to notice my weight, dark eyes tense. We found ourselves in a hauntingly familiar room, on a platform, observing the scene below us. This is where we stood when I watched the treacherous engineer lose his head. Ben brought me to the execution to keep me in line. It's the same room where Olga's life ended.

"Don't make me stay," I begged. "I can't bear to see any more people die."

He glared down at the pacing red-haired general below us, then glanced over at Commander Orion, Vox on his arm, as well as some other high-ranking officials with their Breeders, all wearing long-sleeved, high-collared dresses in dark colors, just like mine. "I'm afraid we don't have a choice," he whispered.

"But you're Kylo Ren; no one tells you what to do."

I knew feeling out of control triggered him, and prayed his desire to buck authority would be enough to get me out of this hellish situation, but he simply opened his mouth, gaping like a fish, before snapping it shut so hard, a muscle in his jaw spasmed.

Down on the ground floor, the Breeders (pregnant or otherwise) who were paired with low-ranking officers or who served multiple men stood in rows surrounded by guards and Stormtroopers. They also wore modest dresses in deep colors instead of their usual black.

"Bring the first one in," Hux barked, his voice reverberating through the cavernous hall, trembling ever so slightly. Did he really care out Lynx, or did he simply mourn the loss of a male heir?

Two soldiers dragged in a bruised and bloody old woman, patches of dark hair ripped out of her scalp, her left leg impaired by a limp. Murmurs went through the ranks of Breeders as Grandmother Bee was flung to her knees in front of Hux and the executioners flanking him. Ben once told me even he feared the crone, the power behind her steely gaze indicating immense authority, yet there she lay, bent and broken, no better than any of us. For a moment, I felt a twinge of vindication at seeing my warden so humiliated, then the horror and guilt at those emotions made my stomach flip over, vomit rising in my throat till I had no choice but to turn away and spit up onto the floor. No one turned around, all so enthralled by the spectacle before them.

Only Ben came to my side, rubbing circles on my back. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I replied quietly, aware of how voices carried. "I'm sorry- I made a mess."

"Don't worry about it; this will all be over soon."

The finality with which he uttered those words- as though a public execution were just a tedious trip to the marker- nearly made me hurl again, but I swallowed it down. The drugs they shot us up with kept my usual nausea at bay (I puked nonstop with Klint and only slightly less with Farrow), but they didn't work on repugnance.

"There is a Breeder dead," Hux bellowed, face so pale his skin looked translucent. I imagined the veins and tissue just underneath the surface, wished I could wrap my hands around his throat and throttle him till the blood vessels in his eyes burst. "This woman had one task on Starkiller Base: keep the girls carrying our next generation safe. She had every resource made available to her, dozens of guards at her disposal, and yet she failed.