Negotiations (Kylo Ren x Reader)

The Escape

*TW: Kylo being violent/heavy smut. Three asterisks (***) at the beginning and end of those scenes!

Your head was pounding the next time you came to, groaning, then blinking rapidly in the low light. You were lying on a lumpy mattress, torchlight flickering off the stone walls, large windows open to air. The sky was dark, littered with stars, and muffled voices drifted up from somewhere below. With a shuddering gasp, you remembered Laxaka and the green fire that flew from her fingers, binding Vruko and leaving even your powerful companions incapacitated. Kylo.

You sat up in bed, rushing to look out over the ledge of your windows. You were on one of several islands, the water between glowing iridescently blue, shimmering like starlight as it flowed. It was beautiful. You realized then that your body felt... nothing. No lingering soreness, no sharp pains from your many inflicted wounds. You caught a glimpse of yourself in a large hanging mirror on your way to the door and stopped dead, your hand coming to rest on your cheek. Someone had stripped your old clothes, tattered and blood-soaked as they were, and dressed you in a blood-red bodysuit, sleeveless and fitted at the waist with a black belt, the legs strategically torn to show the delicate skin of your thigh on one side, your knee on the other. Underneath the suit you wore a high-necked, cropped black bra, firm and supportive for running and fighting. Around your neck was a series of golden triangles hanging from a chain. But it wasn't the outfit that made you pause; No, what stopped you in your tracks were the thin black lines of paint on your face, stenciled in around your eyes and down your jaw. You shivered as you traced them with a delicate finger: you looked like one of them. Pull the attached hood over your face, and you'd be indistinguishable. The thought drew a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach, something like fear, but not quite. Intrigue, maybe. Curiosity. What would your life have been like if you had been born here on Dathomir? If Maul had stolen away his offspring when she had lived, and raised her here. You tore your gaze away from the mirror, finding a pair of red boots sitting near the door, pulling them on and trying the handle. It was unlocked.

You followed the voices down to the edge of the water, where you found Laxaka speaking with a group of hooded Nightsisters. She grinned as you approached, the three Sisters bowing to her and taking their leave. They hissed indistinguishable whispers to each other as they passed.

"You're awake." Laxaka stepped beside you, putting a gentle arm around your shoulders and gesturing to a circular stone table directly in front of a statue of a wizened old woman with a basin of green fire between her outstretched hands. "We healed your wounds, you must feel better." You were, in fact, grateful, but you ignored her comment.

"I don't want to sit. I want you to take me back to my friends." Friends. The word tingled on your tongue. It was not a word you imagined you'd ever use to describe Kylo and his Knights. The pale-skinned woman pressed her lips together, contemplating as she took her seat.

"Of course, if that's what you wish."

"I don't-" You were immediately on the defensive, not even processing her response. "Wait," Her words settled over your mind. "What?"

"I am not holding you hostage." She sat back in her chair, sighing deeply and letting green sparks dance on her fingertips. "I know it's true, what you told Vruko. You are one of us." She gestured to her surroundings. "I can feel his power in you. It's not your fault the Brothers are ignorant." You took a tentative seat next to her, a small smile pulling the corners of her lips up. She went on, "If I had not intervened, they would have taken you, put you in chains, raped you, tortured you." Your stomach turned sour, imagining the large Zabrak men forcing their way upon you. "They are savages. They are primitive. And that makes them dangerous."