Chapter Seven

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Y/N POV

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The halls were a depressing grey and demeaning black, the colors of the vicious and cruel First Order that claimed they would bring peace and order to the galaxy, sickening me down to the core of my being as I walked those perilous and sin filled halls, stormtroopers holding me by my arms and making sure they had a tight grip on me, my face still covered with a sheen of sweat even though we were out of the desert, my short h/c hair blowing in the chilling air conditioning, a dagger of  sadness stabbing me in the heart as Chewie roared while they took him away from me, fighting as much as possible no matter how much it hurt him just to get back to me.  I elbowed one of the stormtroopers in the gut, kicking the other one in the groin and reaching for his blaster when the leader of the group grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me down on the floor, kicking me in the stomach without any hesitation, cursing under my breath as stabbing pain split through my body, thinking as I was done for until the red glow of that familiar saber welcomed me, that haunting mask the only glimmer of hope in that damned place.  He grabbed the stormptrooper by the throat and shoved him into the wall, fury dripping off of him like an acid that would eat away at anything that it touched, the other the trooper's trembling hands helping me up and backing away as quickly as they could, fearful of the infamous Kylo Ren, who would now be the death of one of their colleagues, feeling the sadistic fright that he brought onto them, part of me wondering if he would ever become the good Ben Solo that I always hoped he would.

"Who gave you permission to do that to her?" he growled, digging his fingers deeper into his neck.

"Sir, she was-" he began, choking even harder.

"I don't care what she was doing, I did not give you permission to hurt her, did I?" he asked, the trooper not able to respond.  "No, that is right, I didn't.  If you remember correctly, only I am allowed to hurt her, got that, soldier?"

The stormtrooper had already passed out, Ren throwing him on the floor like he was nothing but a piece of Resistance trash (as he would say) and grabbing my arm, the other troopers scrambling behind him and trying to wake up their unconscious partner, hoping that he wouldn't see them do so, glancing back at them with remorse flashing in my eyes, feeling sorry that they had to endure his wrath every single day.  My stomach still throbbed with excruciating hurt, wincing from the pain and burying an ear piercing scream, gritting my teeth as I pointed my head to the ground, not wanting Ben to see me in pain, but of course he did, loosening his grip on my arm and looking at me, lifting my chin with his finger delicately like I was a flower, seeing the tears welling up in my eyes.  He gently led me to his room, going through a maze of twists and turns, my mind pure confusion as I tried to memorize them all, losing all I had gotten down by the third hallway we walked down, knowing it was impossible to make it through this labyrinth of hostility and darkness blanketing over everyone like a sick plague of destruction.  He took off my handcuffs and set them down on the table, closing his door and locking it before hugging me from behind, pulling me toward him softly, resting his head on my shoulder, letting out a deep huff.  I leaned my head on his chest, closing my eyes and letting this peaceful moment be burned in my memory, not many moments coming like this to a member of the Resistance and a Jedi Knight, wondering what Rey and all of the others were doing, rubbing his thumb in circles on the back of my hand, kissing the side of my neck tenderly.

"I hope he didn't hurt you too badly, Princess," he said, his normal voice making me swoon more than was naturally possible.

"I'm fine, Ben," I answered, nuzzling my head into his chest.

He smiled, kissing my forehead and gripping my waist tighter, pulling me so close to him we were basically grinding, taking off my leather jacket that Chewie gave me after Han died, Chewie telling me that it was from Han's early smuggling days and that he wanted me to have it because he thought of me as a daughter, forcing down the tears that came to me when I thought of Han.  He began kissing my neck again, but with more intensity and passion, my knees becoming weak under my own weight, unintentionally moaning softly, feeling his breath on the side of my neck as he laughed, blushing uncontrollably and holding my head down in embarrassment.

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