The Lady of Ren

Kakistocracy

You were no stranger to judgmental eyes but the ones following you now were more intense than usual. Resistance members, clad in their class uniforms, gawked at you as you were escorted to the interrogation room. A few of them booed, a handful hissed, but they mostly stared in silence, mouths hollowed with empty misconceptions.

The man who held your arm was shorter but held himself with grandeur. He was muscular, dark haired, pale, poised, cocky...everything you imagined a Resistance fighter would be. During the walk, he didn't speak a word to you and kept his eyes focused on the distance between you and your destination.

You didn't dare ask questions, mostly because you knew the answers. You were to be interrogated by whatever top official was on base and maybe bartered with. Someone was going to be the bait and you'd decided the moment you were forced into the ship that it wouldn't be you.

D'Qar is a planet on the outer rim territories. It's a green world and rather humid, bearing the life of thousands of woodland animals who bathe in swamps and climb trees. You were so familiar with tropical and oceanic planets that it was a surprise to see so many different species of trees. The fields of Yanni grew saturated flowers and the majority of the planet was water. In short, D'Qar was a strange land and every detail of it was foreign. You wouldn't admit this to anyone, but in truth, you were frightened...just a little.

The stocky guard tossed you by the elbow into a rather sterile room. He left you in silence, no epilogue to inform you of your upcoming questionnaire. You sigh and inspect your surroundings, bits of doubt weaving into the crevices of your brain. The tragic thought suddenly shouted in your mind:

What if you never left this base?

You take a deep breath and walk towards a walled mirror in front of you. Strange, though a little obvious. You press a finger against it and find your finger immediately meets the glass with no obvious separation. You knock your knuckles against it, just for precaution, and the noise is hollow and reverberating.

Smart, but not enough to fool you.

The room is brightly lit and the whiteness of the four walls surrounding you is blinding. Resistance bases are so much lighter than the First Orders. You find yourself squinting towards the glass but decide to turn away; you didn't want them knowing you knew. After all, they probably planned this for a while now.

Fortunately, a voice calls your title over a speaker. It's louder than you expected and you cringe, raising an eyebrow. "Ambassador," the voice says. It's a woman. "Welcome."

You clear your throat, your status coating your tone. "I'd appreciate it if we skipped the theatrics and, instead, started with the interrogation."

A silence from the speaker. Finally, she begins again after a momentary pause. "Alright then. If that's what you want."

The woman sounds older and you tilt your head at this, information you've collected over the years flashing through your conscious like a fighter jet. You close your eyes, concentrating on the way the voice sounds so maternal, so cautious, and so familiar.

"You're ambassador of the First Order," the woman says.

You walk towards the mirror again, every step like a predatory stride. "Correct," you reply, hands snaking behind your back.

"Ambassador Ren."

Once reaching the mirror, you watch your reflection. Your eyes are heavy and the bags underneath them are blossoming into a violet hue. Gods, you're tired. Your hair is ratted and your mouth is severely dry; swallowing takes a lot of effort. Miraculously enough, you manage to compose yourself as the ambassador you really are; ruthless and reserved.

Ah, the narcissism is strong within you. You feel the dark side beginning to creep deeper into your skull, its taunting visions of anger and revenge dulling the atmosphere around you. You try very hard to control it, your anger, but you deem it impossible now.

It'll have to do for the time being.

"How did you receive that title? Ambassador Ren."

You tap your fingers against your spine, staring into the glass and past your reflection. "Through courtship."

"With Kylo Ren?"

You barely nod. "Correct."

The voice sounds more interested now, her tone piquing with obvious curiosity. If you're being honest, you really don't blame whoever this is of being skeptical; you can hardly believe it yourself.

"Is he your commander?" The question is thrown into the void - an insinuation: Kylo Ren is incapable of attachment. Everyone knows that; he's done a great job of making it gospel.

"And husband." You tilt your head. "Does that surprise you?"

The woman stops speaking and (from what you can tell) breathing. You swear you can hear the gears in her mind turn and peddle backwards. She decides to go on instead about something else entirely.

You can almost hear the shame clouding her tone.

"Tell me about your duties as ambassador," she says, voice lower than before and all signs of interest dissolving immediately.

You smirk a little in the mirror but it wears off after a millisecond. "I think you know my duties as a politician, general, when you are one yourself."

Another intolerable length of silence. You find yourself growing impatient before the glass of the mirror becomes translucent.

Before you is a grey haired woman with a braid atop her head. She's clothed in uniform, though the only proof of her status as general is her posture. She smiles a bit, sardonically maybe, before leaning into the speaker.

"You've heard of me," she says.

You shake your head. "No. I recognize you."

She seems confused. Her eyes crinkle and her crow's feet intensify. She's beautiful, you wouldn't deny that, and her power radiates from all corners of the base. She is truly a vison.

"I've never met you in my life," she replies.

You say, "He dreams about you."