These Violent Delights

Prologue: Bloodline

CHAOS! After years of thriving under the rule of Supreme Leader KYLO REN, the return of the last Jedi, LUKE SKYWALKER, puts the galaxy in peril once again.

As the fearsome FIRST ORDER and the diminishing RESISTANCE race to find the mysterious artifact created by the late EMPEROR PALPATINE, the Supreme Leader and the KNIGHTS OF REN vow to do whatever it takes to preserve their place of power.

But their efforts are quickly undermined after the capture of YOU, a Kanjiklub assassin whose effect on KYLO REN is nothing less than disastrous...

—

Three years ago, in a galaxy far, far away....

The souls of Kylo Ren's victims haunted him at every turn.

They perturbed him while he worked. While he ate. When he drew in a breath. He used to seek out sleep to evade them, but now they disturbed him behind his eyelids, tormenting him from the grave he put them in. He hated how much power these nameless and faceless apparitions had over him. They meant nothing to him. After all, the vibro-ax never remembered the tree it cut down, and likewise, the Commander couldn't recall the name of a single life he had taken over the years.

Except for one. His father, Han Solo.

Kylo clenched his fists as he stepped inside the turbolift. When the doors slid closed, his stiff, insecure posture reflected off their shiny metal plates, a taunting reminder that he couldn't adjust to the crushing weight of defeat he now carried on his shoulders. He remained still as it thrummed below him, watching the bands of hololights gleam across the visor of his mask. He originally donned it to be seen as a symbol of power, like his grandfather, Darth Vader. But these days, Kylo wore his helmet to hide the dark circles under his eyes.

Ding.

He exited before the doors parted entirely. He blew past First Order officials regurgitating their salutations, their skittish eyes darting to and from his mask as they hurried to pass him by. Since he joined their ranks five years ago as Commander Ren, they had never been at ease with his presence. He was used to—and preferred—their avoidant approach. But as the darkness grew within him, they avoided him like the plague, choking on their duty to greet him as he made his way down the military sector.

Kylo didn't acknowledge them. His title rang hollow in his ears. He didn't even know who he was anymore. He lived inside a void, running off fumes of who he used to be, who he was supposed to be. Son of darkness, heir apparent to Lord Vader...names he once lived to hear, but now, he resented the expectations that came with the Skywalker bloodline. He had failed to rise to the name, instead only buckling under the weight of such an impossible title to carry. Something his Master reminded him of at every opportunity.

All these years, I thought I was training a new Vader. Alas, you're nothing but a child in a mask.

His heart pounded against his sternum, and his chest swelled with strained breaths. It wasn't supposed to be like this. No, no, no, Kylo was supposed to be free from this pain. He had given everything he had to the dark side, to Supreme Leader Snoke. He had followed his guidance and killed his own father to eradicate the light that clung onto the ghost of Ben Solo, and yet, the light and dark side of the Force still fought over his body. Like vultures squabbling over a carcass, they sat on his rib cage and ripped him apart, pulling out his insides.

I've done everything that was expected of me.

Everything. Kylo did everything that was expected of him. Even before he took the name Kylo Ren, when he still answered to Ben, he had always done what was expected of him. The dutiful and needless son, excusing his mother's absence for yet another one of his birthdays as she tended to the Galactic Senate. And, of course, never questioning why his father was gone for months at a time, instead being left in the care of Han's best friend, Chewbacca. The exceptionally gifted Padawan was expected to set an example for his pupils while enduring a more vigorous, unrelenting curriculum imposed by his Jedi uncle, Luke Skywalker. Even when the voices began, Luke insisted that he could handle it.

Your Skywalker blood craves violence. You mustn't let these violent delights seduce you. Let the Jedi way guide you.

The Jedi way. The idea made Kylo sick to his stomach. Indoctrinated since the day he was born, he was told their rules would give him structure. But all they did was unanchor him from the ground. Lost and confused, Kylo spent his entire childhood walking on eggshells, afraid to make mistakes and let his family down. But he was doomed from the beginning. How could he possibly do the right thing, when he was raised in a diseased womb of contradiction?

Be powerful, but not too powerful. Have compassion—just not too much compassion. Protect everyone, but don't love them. Love leads to the dark side of the Force. So does hate. Don't give in to your anger, but non-reactivity in the face of evil makes you evil. You're either evil or you're good. There is no gray area. No in-between. Just black and white, good and bad, light and dark! There is no spectrum, just absolutes. But only the Sith deal with absolutes. Absolutes are bad. Unless you're a Jedi. Jedi are good, so they can deal with absolutes. But remember, Sith are evil. They only want power. But also love and pleasure. And anything that feels good is bad.

Always remain neutral. Even better—mindless. Feelings are dangerous. You must think about emotions, not feel them. Your grandfather went against the Jedi Order and took a wife. He loved her, and it killed her! It seduced him into darkness! Don't let that happen to you. But it could happen to anyone strong with the Force. Especially you. Emperor Palpatine and all the other wicked Sith Lords can influence you from beyond the grave. You're never really alone.

Those voices in your head? Ignore them! Don't let them tempt you! But don't forget to face them. How will you overcome them if you don't face them? Listen to us, the Jedi. We know what's best for you. We are the barometer for what's wrong or right. Not you. But you mustn't forget to trust yourself. Let the Force guide you...through the lens we provide, of course! If you resist the dark side and ignore all emotions, you will be led to the right decision. You will be just fine.

Greatness is expected of you, young Solo.

Words. These expectations were just words that meant nothing to him or to anyone. Because Kylo was not great. Nor did anybody expect greatness from him anymore, his Master most of all. He hadn't entered the throne room yet, but Snoke knew he was approaching. That's why he raised his voice for Kylo to hear his insulting snickering to the General.

"You wonder why I keep a rabid cur in such a place of power? A cur's weakness, properly manipulated, can be a sharp tool. And my apprentice's weakness is his thoughtless anger and lack of self-control, General Hux. Rile him up enough, and he will do whatever I say."

The Supreme Leader often did this to Commander Ren. To hurt him. To provoke him. And if this were before he was dead inside, it would have worked. But now, he was just a child in a mask as he took a tight turn through the blast doors to face them, his robes fluttering behind him like black waves in a choppy sea.

The corner of his mouth twitched down as a deep chill slithered its way beneath his tunic. Even without the poor company, he hated this room. With its tall ceilings, harsh architecture, and blood-red walls, it reeked of overcompensation. A show of power instead of actual power. But the Sith did love their theatrics, which was why Snoke sat on a narrow, silver throne with twenty Elite Praetorian Guards flanking him from behind, ten on each side. They were dressed in deep, ruby-red armor and faceplates—the same shade of the walls—as though they were just accessories for the Supreme Leader.

As Kylo drew near, Hux turned to depart down the aisle. With his hands poised behind his back, his gait implied he couldn't tell if the stick up his ass brought him pain or pleasure. He tilted his chin toward the Commander to flash him a self-satisfied smile, and Kylo waited until after he passed to tip his mask to the side, picking up on his thoughts. In the wasteland that was General Hux's mind, there was nothing but hatred toward him, but Kylo didn't dare. He didn't care about anything. He was just a shell of a person, reduced to a puppet tied to a string. And just as was expected of him, as he reached the end of the passage, he sank to one knee in front of his puppeteer.

Kylo kept his mask pointed down, resting one hand atop his knee. "Master Snoke."

"Ah, Commander Ren, what a pleasant surprise to see you arrive in one piece," came the Supreme Leader's mockingly pleasant welcome. Kylo heard his sharp nails scrape against the iron structure as he fidgeted with his robes. "I heard of the troubles you and your knights faced on today's assignment. I was worried you had been defeated once again."

Kylo's deep, modified voice sounded as hollow as he felt. "We destroyed them. Every last one of them."

"Why, of course, you did!" Snoke boomed, a hard edge creeping into his tone. "And why did you do that, my young apprentice?"

He tensed. "Because they were a threat to the First Order. To you."

"Ah, ah, ah," his Master tsked, clicking his tongue as he got on his feet. Kylo could hear Snoke's guards reposition at the movement. "You did that because I told you to! Because I own you, I am Kylo Ren!"

Snoke's apprentice did not react. He did not move. He only focused on the pulse of his beating heart and the sensation of his chest rising and falling with his clipped breaths. He knew that his Master was angry with him. That's why he was trying to get a rise out of Kylo, so he could strike him down in response. Humiliate him to induce the wounded little boy inside of him to enjoy how he lashed out. Exercising this type of control was just one of the ways Snoke manipulated him over the years. He had been in his life even before he took him as an apprentice, posing as a sympathetic ear for his troubles when Luke wouldn't listen. Kylo wished he could go back in time and kill them both.

After he failed to get the reaction he wanted, Snoke bit out a snarl. "Look at me, boy."

Kylo raised the visor of his mask to peer up at his Master. He was a sick, twisted humanoid influenced by the dark side of the Force, his infirmed body draped in glittering gold robes—a much too lavish display for a leader that merely sat on a glorified chair to delegate others to do the heavy lifting for him. The pallid skin on his neck looked like warped tree roots, with raised ridges of cartilage climbing up his jaw, and on one side of his face, his entire cheekbone was gone. The injury left a deep impression that flowed into the corner of his mouth, making his already-thin lips look perpetually pinched, just like his beady, red-rimmed eye sockets.

He was an ugly thing to look at, but just like always, Commander Ren centered his gaze on the deep, cratered scar that began atop his head and sloped down to his forehead. The way it was positioned, Kylo often imagined it would be easy to crack his skull in half if he could wedge his thumbs into the cavity, similarly to tearing an apple in half with his bare hands. He wished he could test that theory.

"Yes, Master Snoke?"

The Supreme Leader curled his pale, pruned hands into fists, speaking with simmering disgust. "Take that ridiculous thing off."

Kylo did as he was told. He may have been broken and bruised and battered, but above all, he was obedient. Just as Snoke molded him to be. After he placed his helmet on the floor, he tipped his head back but kept his eyes downcast. He didn't want to witness the sheer joy on the Supreme Leader's face at how defeated his puppet looked.

"You look like shit," he muttered quite gleefully as he reached a long finger to point to his abdomen. "How's your wound?"

"It's nothing."

Snoke released a giddy, cruel chuckle. "A bowcaster shot to the gut is not nothing, young Solo. Especially when he who pulls the trigger does so with great emotion."

Kylo's chest tightened. He hadn't told him how he was injured, but he wasn't surprised that his Master had plucked the interaction from his memories. He often violated his privacy, rummaging through his mind to find anything hurtful he could use against him. The Commander knew it was only a matter of time before Snoke drew out the tormented details of his father's final moments.

"What was his name again? Gooey, was it?" When Kylo didn't respond, only swallowed the aching lump in his throat, the Supreme Leader prattled on. "Dewey...Huey...Louie...oh, I'm sure you could enlighten me, Commander Ren. What's the name of that foul beast that shot you after you murdered your father?"

Bottom lip quivering and eyes still locked on the floor, the name sounded broken as it crawled out of Kylo's mouth. "Chewie."

"Ah, yes! Chewie. Your steadfast companion in your youth!" Snoke exclaimed, his paper-soft fingers grating together to produce an off-key snap. He let out a sarcastically sympathetic exhale. "Ah, what a horrendous sight that must have been for him, to see you impale Han Solo through the heart. Surely, he didn't think the timid boy he once knew had it in him."

He lifted his face in defiance, glaring up at Snoke through the black hair hanging in his weary, sunken eyes. "I killed Han Solo." When his Master shook his head in disappointment and dismissively turned away, Kylo raised his voice as excruciating rage bubbled under his skin. "When the moment came, I didn't hesitate."

"And look at you, the deed split your spirit to the bone!" he raged, whipping his head to leer at Kylo. His guards readied their weapons as he advanced with menacing steps, speaking with a dreadfully demoralizing tone. "I had so much hope for you when I first saw you. The potential of your bloodline...I thought training you would be a great privilege." Snoke stopped in front of him again, scoffing when Kylo looked to the floor again. "But no. You are not worthy of the Skywalker name. Not when your father's face haunts you day in and day out. Go on, look at me and tell me that I'm wrong."

Kylo tried to blink, but his eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. He wanted to form his mouth around the words, you're wrong, but he couldn't. Snoke was right. All he could see was his father. Every night he'd find himself on Starkiller again, where he'd trudge through that miserable, snowy wasteland, walking a path he didn't want to go down. He would always end up in the forest, where Kylo retreated to after Chewie shot him, but he could never escape Han's last words. They swirled around him just like the spiraling beads of snow falling through the trees.

Yes. Anything. He'd scream in his sleep, trying to wake himself up before he activated his weapon, but it wouldn't work. Not until the deed was done, and he heard his own words curling around him like an iron fist. Thank you.

Only then would he shoot up in bed covered in sweat and panting, a burning ache in his chest, right where he pierced through his father's heart. He felt his bottom lip tremble. Snoke told him doing that would set him free. That he would be okay. But as he held back tears while on his knees in front of the Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren was anything but okay. And Snoke hated him for it.

"Look at you. You're so weak," his Master said with a contemptuous scoff. After a few moments of hovering above him, he turned his back on him once again. "Leave me. I will not have a pathetic, weak fool in my presence."

Hatred flared through Kylo. Raw, unrestrained hatred that drove him to his feet and compelled his hand to his lightsaber. But the moment the crimson blade sputtered alive, and he moved to strike his Master down, Snoke swiveled around and Force-compelled the weapon into his hand. The guards all readied their defenses, but the Supreme Leader was quicker to retaliate, and with a graceful snap of his wrist, the saber struck Kylo across the face. The blow carved a prominent gash into his flesh, sending him stumbling back and hissing in pain as he cradled his bloody cheek.

"Skywalker lives! The seed of the Jedi Order lives!" Snoke boomed, his authoritative voice echoing around the room. After serving him one last look of pure abhorrence, he disengaged Kylo's lightsaber and turned around, approaching the throne. "I had thought you'd be the one to snuff them out..." he started, walking up the steps of his seat of power. He pivoted to lower himself down, glaring at Kylo as he placed the poached lightsaber beside him, dropping the pitch of his voice to a mere mutter of disappointment. "Alas, the only thing you're good for is slaughter. Mindless slaughter."

Kylo didn't say anything. Not because Snoke had backed him into being a coward again. He remained still and silent because he was focusing on the searing pain emanating from his wound. He concentrated on the sharp burn radiating across his face, almost savoring each droplet of blood trickling down his brow to pool at his lash line, taking note of its smooth glide as it tumbled down the ruined flesh of his cheek.

His Master had hurt him many times over the years, but this time was different. Just like his attire, his throne, this fucking lavish room...the gash across his apprentice's face was a show of power. A message that he was stronger than Kylo Ren. That Kylo Ren was weak. Foolish. A disappointment. That he owned Kylo Ren.

And while those things might have been true when he woke up this morning, Kylo Ren could no longer let another moment pass as a bystander in his own life. As a puppet, a rabid cur sent to do his Master's bidding for amusement and tests to exercise control over him. No. Today was the day he would take his power back.

To protect his next move, the Commander let confusion flood the link between their two minds, and Snoke started to laugh. A slow, nefarious cackle that made Kylo's skin crawl.

"Ah, my dear, dear boy. You don't understand what I'm talking about, do you?" There was only a beat of silence before his feigned amusement mutated into belligerence. "Because of course you don't! You have no wit about you! For the last five years, I have been waiting for you to question my orders. To apply even a lick of critical thinking as to why I send you and your knights out into the galaxy to butcher innocent villagers. And I thought this time, surely you would see that they were all devout First Order followers, but you didn't! Today's assignment was a test, Commander Ren, a test you failed! You are..."

Snoke continued to berate him, but Kylo couldn't hear him anymore, his eyes fixing on his lips spewing hatred but not spending the energy to decipher his words. Because whatever he had to say didn't matter. Not anymore. And with each passing second he tuned his Master out, Kylo felt stronger. Clear minded. Eliciting a shift so powerful, so demanding, it faded his stinging wound into a mere scratch. There was no more pain. No more fear. The aching in his soul, the weight of his bones...it simply left his body, revealing what had been inside Kylo all along.

Strength. Power. Control. Standing tall with a wide stance, the Commander's fingers twitched by his side. Collectively connected, he felt the Knights of Ren closing in. They were coming.

"You make me ill," Snoke continued with his degradation. "You have deified Skywalker blood running through your veins, and yet, you have no control over it. No capacity to channel it. And a great deal of power with no discipline is a waste, and that's exactly what you are, Kylo Ren. A waste of time and space and power." Releasing his hold around the armrest of the throne, he splayed his bony fingers out to dismiss him. "Go. You will get your lightsaber back when you prove to me that you're worthy to wield it."

Kylo did not move. He didn't even blink. Snoke didn't like that. "Leave my sight at ONCE!" he bellowed, "before I come to my senses and put you down myself!"

Still, the obedient apprentice did not obey. Instead, he took one step closer. After observing him in a tense moment of silence, Snoke's ever-mercurial moods shifted to cheery surprise. "You are defying me, is it?"

And another step. "Yes."

The Supreme Leader cocked his head to the side, his thin lips twisting into a smirk. "Maybe there is hope for you after all," he muttered, stroking his chin. His beady eyes flashed up and down the length of his body. "I sense you have something to tell me. What is it, boy?"

Kylo spoke matter-of-factly. "I am not only good for mindless slaughter. I will prove that to you after I find the last seed of the Jedi Order and yank it by the roots." Coming to a halt at the base of the throne, he pointedly dragged his gaze along every Praetorian guard, slowly and at ease. "Then I will destroy Skywalker," he muttered before locking his charged stare on his Master, "just as I will destroy you."

The men in red flexed their weapons, but Snoke laughed. A wickedly delighted, gritty laugh. But Kylo kept his eyes on him as he sensed all six Knights of Ren entering the throne room, slinking down the aisle until they reached their Master. Kylo didn't need to turn around to know that three flanked him on either side, their weapons sitting readily in their hands. Just as they had sensed the shift in his energy into something defiant and combative, he sensed their eagerness to aid him. They were the only entities in the entire galaxy that did not have to bend the knee to Supreme Leader Snoke. They served Kylo Ren, and Kylo Ren alone.

At their arrival, Snoke's sentries took another forceful step closer, preparing for a fight, but Snoke still seemed genuinely amused. "You want to kill me." There was a brief pause as he let out a manic cackle. "Good! Do it! Kill me, strike me down, and prove to me you're WORTHY!"

Kylo did not respond, only pushed conflict and fear between their bond to make his Master believe he had won. In his silence, Snoke eventually sank down into his throne, a sneer on his repulsive face as he scrutinized his apprentice. The fool truly believed he had beaten him into submission once again, but the Commander would bide his time to show him he was wrong in that assumption.

"Ah, only...you can't, can you? Pathetic child," came Snoke's smug utter, followed up with a slimy chuckle. His eyes gleamed with malice as he raised his voice in arrogant certainty. "I cannot be betrayed. I cannot be beaten. I see your mind. I see your every intent! You hate me, but you hate the weakness within yourself even more. Which means my work here is done! You have completed your training, my dear boy, and you are ready to find Skywalker, to find your mother and snuff out the light in the GALAXY!"

Kylo and his knights remained unmoving, but the bond between them was building with violent pressure. Their energy roiled beneath their skin, aching for a release akin to beasts locked in a cage. But they continued to suppress it. They had to until the time was right.

Snoke closed his eyes, pulling in a deep, satisfactory inhale, as though he was taking pleasure from feeding on Kylo's every thought. "Yes, yes. I see it now! I see you turning the lightsaber to strike true!"

Just then, Kylo rotated two of his fingers by his side, twisting his weapon that sat beside his Master on the throne. He remained expressionless as Snoke continued to relay the vision behind his eyelids. The calm before the storm.

"And when you find them..." the Supreme Leader started, flashing his eyes open in fevered anticipation, "you will ignite your weapon and kill your true enemies!"

With a single flick of his fingers, Kylo fulfilled his Master's prophecy and ignited his lightsaber straight through his midsection. He let the vibrating blade stay lodged in his flesh for a few moments, enjoying the complete and utter shock on Snoke's face as he realized he had been beaten. That he was wrong. Kylo Ren wasn't weak. He was strong, and the moment he called his weapon back, splitting Snoke in half, he was also the Supreme Leader of the galaxy.

But first, he and his knights had to scrub the very last of the Sith legacy that Snoke had left behind, just as he would do with the Jedi Order, to begin the eradication of all the old ways of the Force. And right now, that meant obliterating all twenty of the Praetorian guards. They closed in quickly, just a swarm of red as they ran at them. But the Knights of Ren were not only quicker, they were fucking feral. After four years of watching their Master serve a lesser ruler, they were ready to release their pent-up aggression on the first unfortunate soul that dared oppose them. They didn't wait for the assailants to come to them.

All of them, Kylo included, sprang into action.

Their collective Force-bond vibrated with virile strength as they cut through the men with ease. Grunts, guttural groans, and clashes of blades reverberated off the high ceilings of the throne room, transforming the barbaric sounds of carnage into a poetic symphony of death and, simultaneously, rebirth. Kylo Ren's rebirth. With each swing of his lightsaber, he felt more and more free. Light. Untethered. In control. The exact sensation he had been chasing when he struck his father down at Snoke's command.

As bodies dropped around him, further severing him from his past, Kylo knew he would never serve another Master again. Nor would he let the light and dark fight over the fibers of his being. It was time to let old things die. Snoke. Skywalker. The Sith. The Jedi. The Resistance. He would let it all die and bring a new order to the galaxy. One backed by real strength, a new generation of Force-users that had unlimited, unrestrained power. And that started with him.

After slashing two assailants in half with only one swing of his saber, Kylo straightened his spine and looked around the room, breathing heavily as sweat seeped into the deep crater of his cut. Some of his knights were finishing off the last few attackers, while the others took their time torturing those still half-alive. Armored body parts and crimson puddles painted the floor, and as he turned to approach the throne, Kylo liked to think Snoke would be pleased with what they did with the place. The aftermath of the massacre was a great match for the aesthetic of glory he did try so hard to fabricate, after all.

But as he stepped over his late Master's corpse, Kylo realized that besides a reign of needless terror, Snoke died without an ounce of distinction to his name. The fallen Supreme Leader never wanted to train a Skywalker. He wanted to be a Skywalker. But he couldn't, so he beat Kylo down to ensure he would never surpass his own powers, instead directing him to commit mindless atrocities just to see how far he could push him. To rile him up, as he just told Hux, to see how much persuasion he could have over someone so powerful.

And with this knowledge, Kylo felt the weight of everything lift off his shoulders as he turned around to face the throne room. His throne room. Pain, conflict, weakness...everything left his body and soul until he almost felt nothing at all, forcing him to take a wide stance when he sat down, keeping his boots firmly planted on the floor. The moment he rested his spine against the hard slab of iron, he placed his arms on either side, curling his fingers around the end of the armrests to ensure he wouldn't float away.

It didn't take long before First Order officials gathered enough courage to enter the room, eliciting his knights to abandon their prizes to stand beside the throne, three on each side. The visitations were slow to start, but after the first few bowed to their new Supreme Leader, they left quickly to spread the word. After that, a steady stream of personnel came to bend the knee, eager to swear fealty and prove that they accepted the exchange of power.

All but one.

Standing stiffly before the throne, General Hux kept his eyes locked on Snoke's corpse. Panic, rage, and envy poured from him, but Kylo didn't react. He didn't even speak. A true ruler didn't ask for respect. He looked at the General of the First Order army and waited for his submission. Armitage Hux was a greedy man, a power-hungry man, but he was also a smart man. And after Kylo and the Knights of Ren turned Snoke's throne room into a graveyard, he knew that submission or death were his only two choices.

Beside him, his knight Vicrul cleared his throat, finally pulling Hux's eyes off Snoke's swollen tongue lolling out of his lifeless mouth. With another moment of him nearly choking as he swallowed his pride, the General dropped to one knee and bowed his head. It was a quick exchange, but Kylo was satisfied enough—until he stood up and turned to leave. Then the Supreme Leader stopped him, waiting until he made eye contact to speak.

"Where are you going, General?"

"I have duties on the bridge." When Kylo looked at him expectantly, Hux's lips reluctantly twisted around, "Sir."

"No." Kylo gave a curt shake of his head. "Your duty is to serve your Supreme Leader. And your Supreme Leader requires your presence in the throne room." He nodded to the sidelines. "Go."

Hux wanted to kill him; he could tell. It was endearing. "And how could I serve you by standing there, sir?"

"Because it pleases me." A hardness flashed in his eyes. "Do not keep me waiting."

After serving him a flinty glare, Hux's lips twisted into a contemptuous leer, but he obeyed all the same. He tugged at the cuffs of his uniform as he stepped over the remains of some Praetorian guards and situated himself to the left of Kylo's throne. The Supreme Leader promptly ignored him. He took no pleasure in Hux's presence, but it would serve the General well to get acclimated to taking orders from him, especially when the man had dreamed of sitting on this very throne since he was a child.

As the adrenaline finally dwindled in the Supreme Leader's blood, he became very much aware that the wound on his face needed tending to. Turning his head to the right, he gave a low demand to Vicrul. "Send for Carlisle."

"Yes, Master Ren." Strapping his scythe to his back, the knight retrieved his datapad from beneath his tunic and sent a quick message. It took less than a minute for a medic to arrive, but it wasn't Kylo's preferred doctor. Instead, it was a petite girl dressed in a black First Order uniform, her short red hair neatly pulled back into a low bun. With the flecks of gold freckles peppering her nose and cheeks, her big, brown eyes, and warm, vibrant energy, she seemed far too sunny to live in the depths of space. Kylo didn't trust her.

"You're not Carlisle," came his displeased observation as she walked over yet again another corpse to approach the throne. With every passing step, he could hear her panicked pulse quicken from where he was sitting. "Where is Carlisle?"

Nervously clutching her medical bag with two hands, it took her a moment to respond, her eyes wide as they traveled from the slain Snoke to him. "Commander Ren, I—" she started, then quickly cleared her throat to say, "I mean, Supreme Leader," she corrected, dipping into a slight bow. "I received your transmission for medical attention."

Kylo got comfortable, sliding down in his seat and widening his knees as he flicked his eyes down the length of her body. "Who are you?"

Her chin was still tipped down, trying to find a spot on the floor spared from blood, no doubt. "My name is Flora, sir."

"I sent for my usual physician, Flora."

"Yes, sir, sorry, sir," she said, her delicate throat rippling from the effort of swallowing. She blinked a few times as though she was trying to summon a response that wouldn't get her split in half like Snoke. "It's just that, Carlisle isn't stationed on the Finalizer today, Supreme Leader, so they sent me in his stead."

"And where is he?"

"He has joined the recovery team on Starkiller, sir." She hesitated, her fingers twisting around the handle of her bag as she finally lifted her gaze to his bloody face. "If it pleases you, I can send for someone else. I—"

"No. You'll do." With his palm facing up and his forearm sprawled across the armrest, Kylo used two gloved fingers to motion her forward. "Up."

"Yes, sir," she said, hurriedly scrambling up the shallow stairs. She unzipped her medical bag at his feet to grab her supplies. He watched her every move as she poured alcohol on a strip of cotton, then reached a hand toward his face, hesitating. "May I..."

"Yes." With his approval, she began to reach for him again, but immediately stopped when he continued with a light, unbothered tone. "But if it stings, I will kill you."

Flora froze, and her fear was palpable. Kylo enjoyed the taste of it, glancing up at her from the corner of his eye. Her face paled, her lips parted as she stared at him in horror. In her silence, his knights repositioned their weapons—they were amused, but she didn't know that. To her, they were preparing to rip her apart as they did to Snoke's Elite Praetorian Guards.

"It...it's, it's alcohol, sir," she finally stuttered, beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead. Kylo was positive she would pass out any moment now. "It, it, it will sting."

"Then I'll be sure to send flowers to your gravesite," he deadpanned, his dark eyes giving nothing away. "Are sweet blossoms to your liking, Flora?"

At this, his more unruly knights, Ushar and Trudgen, burst out laughing. The poor girl jumped at the sound, then nearly fell off the throne's platform as General Hux imploded from the sidelines.

"Of course he knows alcohol will sting, child. He is tooling with you," he snapped, setting his steely, bright eyes on Kylo. "Commander Ren is known for making jests out of unfathomably unfunny situations."

"Commander," Kylo said flatly, raising a single brow. "Commander?"

"YES!" Hux finally burst, stomping his foot like a petulant child. "I meant what I said! You are nothing but a usurper!You are too imbalanced to rule! Just a rabid cur! Even Snoke said so himself, and look what you've done! You've murdered him in cold blood!" he wailed, spit flying from his mouth as he took a foolish step closer. Kylo lithely sprang to his feet, closing in on him as Hux's hysteria apexed. "The Supreme Leader is dead! We have no ruler! We—"

Whipping out his arm, Kylo twisted his hand into a claw, directing the Force to coil around his subordinate's throat. "Snoke is dead," he seethed through gritted teeth. "The Supreme Leader is not."

Gasping for air with his hands around his neck, General Hux fell to his knees. His face turned a delightful shade of red as he choked out, "Long live the Supreme Leader."

Kylo wasn't satisfied until Hux was near death. Until he heard the slowing of his pulse throbbing seductively in his ears. And then, only then, did he release him and turn to make his departure, deserting the General as he collapsed on all fours, gasping for air. Leaving behind an edgy Flora, Kylo blew past his victims from the slaughter, and seconds later, there was an eruption of footsteps behind him as his knights followed.

As he led them through the blast doors that spat them out into the military sector, he knew he would never return to the throne room. Unlike his predecessor, the new Supreme Leader wouldn't rely on props of strength to maintain the facade of power. Kylo was power. And now that his Master was eliminated, he was free to channel it however he saw fit. Because he was strong. He was capable. He was in control.

And nothing, or no one, would threaten Kylo Ren's power ever again.