Please have mercy

Praise

Mandalore had burned such a long time ago, yet she kept seeing it in her dreams. She had never seen it crumble, or even been there during her life, it had been long before her birth, she had never seen it beyond the projections in the temple and through the stories told by travelers who never took off their masks. The priestesses and priests had all found a profound respect for those warriors, who carried similar values and stuck to rigid rules, never fighting for sport. They often came seeking hospitality from the temple, who gladly offered refuge to all. And so, they had told stories, and like every orator, she had learned and transmitted them along.

When she slept, she saw it, everything just as if she was there, a city burning in flames with screams dying in the back as buildings collapsed on citizens and destroyed entire streets, clones holding people hostage as friends turned on family. She had been fond of it, fond of its stories, of its rulers, of its legacy. She had entertained the thought that perhaps he was too, wearing a mask just like they had.

He had never told her of the things he liked, of his past, of his ambitions, or his worries. Kylo. He had remained a mystery.

That night, she had dreamed of him. She was back at the temple, standing in front of a crowd of young children to whom she was recounting a tale, explaining what the First Order was, and who her husband had been. In her dream, she had to convince the kids that she had loved him, proving it to her at the same moment. He was there, standing at the very back, apart from the others, listening to her speak. She had frozen, stopping in her story, finding nothing to say about him other than the rumors that had turned out to be true.

The dream changed abruptly, it was him now standing amongst children. She got closer to see what he was saying, noticing that they could not see her, as if she was invisible. He was telling them about their mother, and why she was absent. She had not connected it immediately, finding an odd resemblance between them and the kids, until she comprehended that they were theirs.

Then they turned towards her and started screaming, pushing her away with the Force until she was outside of her temple, too far to hear any sound.

She woke up to a heaviness weighing down on her, blinking slowly as she remembered where she was and who she was with. She often forgot her location in the mornings, having dreams of the temple, her body awakening on its own, still running her on her old schedule, thinking that she had to rise up early to go meditate in the mornings. Sometimes she got scared to wake to a massive window giving in to open space, shooting upwards in bed gasping at the blinding whiteness of the room until her memories reworked the narrative and reminded her of the last month.

It was hard to erase a life full of habits. It was harder when she was alone and it was the only thing giving her a sense of security.

But today, the bed was not empty beside her. He was there, still sleeping, holding her so tightly against him as if he was scared she would've left during the night. He shifted against her, making her recall that she was naked, his leg stuck between hers. She could feel the fabric of his pants, rough and think against her skin, his thigh pressing dangerously close.

She extracted her arm from beneath the covers, pulling them up at the same time to cover more of her chest. Slowly, she traced the features of his face trying to memorize them before he put his mask back on, her fingers barely even pressing his skin, drawing out the shape of his nose and his eyes brows down to his jaw, using her touch to discern his traits in the semi-darkness.

It was still strange to be able to see his face, her mind still stuck on the idea that he did not exist beyond the mask, that it had been a robot or an empty body controlled by a higher being. He was very real, and he was human, just like her. Even in his sleep, he didn't look peaceful, always conflicted about some external problem out of her realm of understanding. One of the many things he did not speak to her about, keeping her in the dark about the issues of this empire they were supposed to rule together.