Symphony for the Dark (Kylo Ren x Reader)

3

"Well, maybe if I change the inverted chord here to an augmented three chord... follow it up with a fifth- no wait, should I try an inverted six?" You muttered to yourself while staring at the sheet music before you. Your hands reached down to the ivory keys below and plucked away the chords that you were trying to piece together in your head, trying all the different combinations of notes until you stumbled upon something that sounded like what was playing in your head.

After a ridiculously long trip on an overcrowded starliner, you were home and once again drowning in paper and ink. The process of writing music was quite lengthy at times. It could take you several days to conjure up something that you thought was worth pursuing. Yet, with other pieces, it just flowed so easily. The melody and chords seemed to magically fall together in a matter of seconds. 

This piece was, unfortunately, one of the more challenging commissions.

A fairly influential business man had reached out to you several months ago and expressed an interest in having you compose a jazz piece for a private party of his. With the promise of a fair sum of money in return, of course you said yes. So now, here you sat- in front of your piano for most hours of the day, struggling to piece together something in your least favorite style of music. Well, least favorite style to write, that is. Jazz is great and all. It sounds beautiful and is definitely a very unique style of music- but writing chord structures for jazz could be a pain in the butt. Classical music was most definitely your strong suit and the most enjoyable to write, but that didn't stop you from pushing yourself outside of your comfort zone every so often.

Jazz, however, was not the center of your attention (even though it should have been). Instead, you were staring at the barely legible collection of lines, notes, and scratched out melodies while your mind was still stuck on the conversation with Kylo Ren and Armitage Hux. Each time the vivid memory played in your mind, a new wave of embarrassment and anxiety washed over you. Nearly running into Commander Ren barefoot was undoubtedly the most unprofessional and embarrassing interaction you had ever endured... yet you survived. If anything killed you now, it would be your own mortification.

It had been two days since General Hux had said that you would be contacted with information concerning the details of the commissions through the holopad they had gifted to you, but there were a couple of things that miiiiight be a problem with that. One- you were already fairly busy with this jazz piece (even though you knew that the moment they contacted you, you'd gladly drop everything and put your attention towards their commissioned pieces). Two- you lived a fairly simple life and, therefore, you had absolutely no idea how to work the advanced technology of the holopad. The most advanced pieces of technology that you had ever thought to buy were random kitchen appliances, but they couldn't even compare to the holopad.

When you had unpacked from your trip, you took extra care to place the piece of priceless technology on the center of your desk, attempting to turn it on a few times. You could tap the screen to get it to light up, but you had no idea where to go from there. You didn't even know what it was capable of doing, but you knew playing around with it would most likely lead to it breaking... which was the last thing you wanted to do. So there it stayed, adding to the growing knot of anxiety every time you stole a glace at it, constantly reminding you of the impressive, and seemingly unrealistic, task soon to be a part of your future.

You dropped your hands down on the keys of the piano in frustration. "I'm going to lose my mind because of jazz." You grabbed your pen and marked out another collection of chords that obviously weren't working the way you had envisioned. 

The frustration and anxiety swirled together in the pit of your stomach, creating the perfect environment for the creative block that you kept trying to work through. You toss your pen back on to the music shelf and push yourself away from the piano. You ignored the crumpled up, discarded pieces of paper on the floor as you made your way to the chaise lounge on the far side of the room. Promptly, you flopped down and closed your eyes, suppressing the urge to burry your face in a pillow and release a scream of frustration. Instead, you reached out to the tea table to grab the book that you had placed there earlier.

Your home was relatively simple. The most expensive, and definitely the most eye-catching piece of furniture was the grand piano located towards the right side of the room. It was a dark and shiny black that basically had its own aura surrounding it-- you loved it. It was powerful, beautiful, elegant, refined, and grand (as one could expect from the name). When you sat before the piano, you felt this aura rubbing off on you. At this point, the piano was practically an extension of who you were. As a pianist, you felt unstoppable-- just how you felt when you stood before an orchestra. 

Aside from the piano, the color scheme of the room was comparatively bright. Most of the furniture-- which included a set of two small chairs, a short tea table, two book shelves, and a chaise lounge-- was made of a naturally sourced, light colored wood from Beztekka, the planet you live on. Of course, there were some minor decorations, a few plants (that had managed to survive in your home) and the occasional wood carving from local craftsmen that sold their work at the market. 

Everything else was... well, nothing special, really. It was a small country home that was probably made for a small, young family, but ended up housing you and all of your music instead. The kitchen was functional and stocked with the necessities, the bathroom was simple and clean, and the most impressive aspect of your bedroom was the larger than average bed positioned near the center of the room. Aside from the grand bed, there was a desk positioned against the wall that had even more sheet music sprawled out across it and the holopad acting as a temporary paperweight.

Ping

Your head snapped up and your attention focused on the slightly distant sound that seemed to echo through the now silent house. There was only one thing that could have possibly made a sound like that...

Ping

In a flash, you dropped the book that you had been absentmindedly been flipping through and dashed to your room, towards your writing desk. Excitement and anxiety immediately began spreading throughout every centimeter of your being, and you froze once the holopad was almost within your grasp. All you had to do was reach out and hope that you figured out how to respond to what ever caused the notification... easy enough, right?

Ping

As the tone sounded for the third time, you were able to see that the screen lit up with what appeared to be some type of notification box.

Message received from Armitage Hux.

Quickly, before the screen could change in anyway, you tapped the words, hoping that it would open the message you had received and- praise all things good in the galaxy- it did. You quickly began reading out loud the contents of the message-

"Miss (L/N), as I had previously mentioned at our last meeting, I would like to commission an orchestral piece of music from you. I would like this music to be debuted at the annual ball celebrating the formation of the First Order, which is in four months. I know that this is considered to be a last minute request in your line of work, so I send you my apologies. If you should choose to accept my proposition, you will be paid quite generously. Please respond with your decision as soon as possible- General A. Hux," you finished reading the message with a wide spread grin across your face. "He actually wants a commission from me... from me!" Your happiness was almost overwhelming and you couldn't help but giddily jump in place.

Your fingers rapidly worked on typing up a suitable response (using the keyboard that you correctly assumed was used to articulate what you wanted to say). "General Hux, I would be glad- no, honored to compose a-" you paused, searching for the right word to describe what you truly wanted to write for someone like him. An etude wouldn't be enough and a simple sonata might not cut it either but, "- a symphony for you. I will gladly accept the offer of working on this challenge." You hesitated, mid thought, wondering if you should treat him as you would any of your clients. He did come to you for a personalized piece of music, and if you wanted to impress anyone, you knew that you needed to keep the same process of writing music as you had with all of your clients. After making up your mind, you continued typing. "If you have the time, I would love to ask you a few questions about the style, tone, and...other smaller details about what you would like the music to sound like. Please notify me of when you have a moment of spare time, an hour or so should be more than enough, and I will ask you a few questions so I might be able to truly capture what you would like to hear from my music- (Y/N) (L/N)."

You swallowed the lump of anxiety that had been growing within you while you were tying to word your response properly, and slowly moved your hand to the button labeled 'send'. Your eyes scanned the paragraph you had prepared, scrutinizing every sentence, word, and letter. Sucking in a seep breath, you forced yourself to send the message.