Ghosts of the Dyad - A Reylo story

Terror

Trigger Warning ⚠️ PTSD

"You had a father who loved you!!"

The memory of Rey's words tore through Kylo Ren's head. He was supreme leader of the galaxy, he had everything he desired, everything he'd worked so hard for, so why did he feel like part of him was so absent?

He'd taken the life of somebody who brought him into this world. He'd killed Han Solo, the one who showed true belief in him, who offered to help him and he'd destroyed him. He acted like he was big, strong and uncaring but inside, he thought about it all the time. It was easier that way. He would dream of him, the moment replaying in his head. The red lightsaber plunging into his chest, the way he fell...at his hand.

The truth is, he felt a strong sense of remorse whenever he thought about it. The guilt almost swallowed him whole and it kept him awake most nights. This guilt, this fear made him weak, he thought. As he lay awake in his chambers, Rey's words ringing through his head once more.

"You had a father who loved you."

She was right, he did. That was more than she had, she practically raised herself. Snoke never loved or cherished him the way Han did through everything. How many more people would he have to kill, how much more blood would he soak himself in? What about when he'd pillaged everyone there was to pillage or when he'd killed everyone he wanted to kill? What would he do then?

Conflict consumed him and for the first time, somebody had not only realised it, but felt it too. Rey believed in him, believed that he could still turn to the light - was that something he wanted?

He sat up in his bed, his head in his hands, trying to shake the guilt so he could rest. He found himself so tired all the time, drained from the guilt and the lack of sleep.

He lay back down in his bed, staring at his ceiling trying to battle his bad memories with the good, but what did he have? It was just then, he thought of Rey, of the way he spoke to her in that elevator, the way she said his true name and part of him liked it. Her passion and the thought and feeling of their dyad relaxed and distracted him as he shut his heavy eyelids. These thoughts of her comforted him and finally, ever so slowly he drifted into sleep.

He sat up with a jolt, the memory of the moment he killed his father flashing before him again and again as he broke into a cold sweat, shivering and breathing rapidly. His heart was racing and his ears were ringing as his head spun at a thousand miles an hour. His chest was so tight, so heavy that a sharp pain seared through him. His whole body was filled with terror.

He felt more and more vulnerable which he hated. Suddenly, a pins and needles sensation filled his head as the spinning slowly came to a halt and he fell back onto his pillow and promptly passed out.

This wasn't the first night this had happened. Kylo Ren was fearless, he wasn't afraid of anything, except going to sleep. He battled the resistance, whole armies, everyone. Yet the one battle he had lost all hope in was the one with himself.

He woke up clutching his bedsheets, curled up, sweat still drenching his forehead with his hair sticking to it. He groaned and slicked his hair back. He ran himself a bath in his lavish en suite.

The bathroom was large and luxurious, complete with a bath, a spacious shower and shiny white-tiled floors which contrasted with the black tiles in his chambers. As he submerged his head in the water, he told himself to pull himself together, he was better than this. He couldn't show any sign of weakness, any sign of emotion except rage. It was easier to turn his fear into anger. He shrank down into the bath, his hands gripping his wet hair as he shut his eyes and looked down and he realised in that moment, just how lonely he was.

He lay in the bath for what seemed like hours. He didn't even notice the water turning cold around him. His hair was flowing in the water, but the rest of him was just still, thoughts buzzing through him. He had never felt so alone before. He let out a sigh when he finally noticed the cold water lapping around him. He got out of the bath, his hair sticking to him which sent goosebumps down his neck and arms. He shivered and tied a towel around his waist. The cold didn't seem to bother him much, he thought as he dried himself off and dressed himself in his usual black attire, his hair quickly returning to its usual dry and wavy state. He felt a little better after his bath, certainly less sweaty but something still lingered about him.

The thoughts of the fearless scavenger girl crept into his mind, about how she shared the same belief as his father - belief that he could change...that he would change, like it was inevitable. He thought about the way their hands had touched by the fire, how good his skin felt on hers, only for a brief few seconds but he couldn't describe how it felt. In that pure, electric atmosphere she made him feel more whole and less alone.

He took in a deep breath, braced himself for the day ahead of him and left his room. He longed to stay in bed, to crawl underneath the sheets and pretend life wasn't going on around him, but he knew if he fell into that pit, he'd never get out again. He was the supreme leader of the galaxy for goodness' sake. He couldn't be having other emotions besides anger. He tried to shut it all out and he did. It was gone, for now.

He strode down the corridors, chest puffed out, showing everyone the big, strong leader he so longed to be as his reputation boasted he was. He got no more than 20 paces when he suddenly got a churning, sick feeling. His insides ached as pain sliced through his middle. He ran back to his room and collapsed to his knees in his bathroom, feeling as if he was going to vomit. A dark, billowing smoke left his mouth, propelling him into the wall behind him. It wrapped himself around him, pulled him into the middle of the bathroom and engulfed him in a misty prison. He could see nothing but black as his chest tensed and dread filled every fibre of his being.