Chapter Text
I stare at the brightly lit screen of my Telepad. I'm paralyzed, in silent shock. My mouth hangs open.
Slowly, I will myself to think through what I’m reading.
This can't be right, is he insane ?
I couldn't believe it. He wants me to…
Moments ago, I was just standing in my private quarters, congratulating myself. I was going to be the toast of the First Order regime. At the end of it all, I might finally get a "Good job, your hard work really paid off," from him, or something, I thought. I grind my teeth in frustration.
Why did I open it? I could have exploded the whole damn thing with my power…I look out the windows, deep in thought. The sunlight from this planet’s double suns filters through and I blink against its brilliance. I’m still working, there’s too much left to do…
Once the trade actions I put in place became law; the Quintillian system was ours. True, they became unwilling participates in exporting their vast stores of sterilite ore. Of course, it would still be a few more months of time cycles until the paperwork was completed and my mission was truly completed.
But why did he have to send me this NOW?
I turn away from the glittering light of the windows and sit down on the edge of my bed, trying to give myself some equilibrium. I take a deep breath and stifle a moan of despair from escaping my lips. The words on the screen hover in front of my eyes, and I read it again to try and make sense of it all:
"Nyxia, I miss you. It's been too long since you abandoned me. Those disgusting mining drudges have had you long enough..."
I roll my eyes. He was the one who literally forced me to come here. To be his representative for the First Order and its interests. To oversee all…this.
Snoke. What a pedantic old shit...
...I read on..."How long must I yearn for your warm embrace, my pet? How long must my bed be bereft and lonely?”
I feel my upper lip curling in revulsion. This was his attempt at charm. I knew better. He was harsh and cruel, and I was discovering that I was thoroughly sick of him, and secretly wished to be free of his grip on me.
It wasn't so much the pain he inflicted that made my skin go cold, I could handle that. It was the humiliation...he just loved to mess with me. He wanted to make sure I knew that I was just his glorified whore and nothing else. Nothing apart from his deigning to pluck me out of obscurity so many years ago and teach me the ways of the Dark Side. He knew from the first time our eyes met I was force sensitive. I always had been. I knew I was different, but I never had a chance to train or learn. He took me out of my childhood filled with shame and squalor and led me into a world of opportunity and power.
I hate owing Snoke anything, but if it weren’t for him, I would never have made myself Darth Nyxia. My rise to power was dangerous and hard-won but at least the money's good. Oh, and the limitless amounts of power. And the wardrobe, that's not too bad. Snoke mentored me and groomed me in the secretive world of the Sith. He set me up in proximity to the galactic elite, put me in places I never dreamed of and positions and opportunities I would never have achieved before; all the while breaking down any semblance of independence or dignity I might ever have. I was his pawn; to fuck or beat or send wherever he wanted.
It had been a true respite for me to be sent to broker trade for the ore in the Quintillian system and flex my new diplomatic muscles away from him. I had been sent on missions before, but not with the autonomy I enjoyed now. Snoke always kept me on a paranoidly short leash. True, he expanded my understanding of the Force and the dark side, but I felt no sense of gratitude toward him. I loathed him. And one day, if I was very lucky, I would kill him as well and fulfill Darth Bane’s great age-old paradigm of apprentice eventually murdering master. I didn’t know when it would happen, or how, but I knew it would be me.
It had to be.
I might have been born Alleria, the destitute street urchin, but I am now Darth Nyxia. Dark Lady of the First Order and Trade Diplomat to the Quintilian System. Reminding myself of who I am helped. It helped to push down the panicked feeling that was slowly growing in my throat. Fuck you, Snoke...
There were many things I was forced to learn during my younger years before all the sith rites and espionage. Being under Snoke's wing expanded my dark horizons, managing pleasure and pain, how to produce lust and desire. How to read people and decipher their myriad of emotions and use it for my own means.
I've always valued experience. For good or ill, it has proven useful for my survival; and it must work, since I'm still here. I haven't died. Yet.
Later, after Snoke took my training seriously, and I studied the ancient texts, I learned the inter connectivity of the Force. About control, power and subtle nuance to endure the steps needed to fully engulf myself into the dark side of the Force from Snoke. I never thought I would end up as a foreign diplomat for the First Order using the lessons I was taught. It was certainly not my idea. But luckily, I quickly learned I could wear the mantle of authority well, even if Snoke thought I was useless and mouthy.
His words, not mine.
I pursed my lips into a hard line as the memories of my last night with Snoke resurfaced.
In truth, Snoke had thrown me up against a wall in a force choke, fully sick of me and my smart mouthiness. I could tell just by looking at him. His hatred and disgust were written all over his deeply scarred face. I mean, hell, he was ugly on a good day, but shit...
I mean, c'mon, It wasn’t my fault that saying inconvenient truths to his fugly face led him to getting so pissy with me!
Ok, maybe I had felt a little jealous that he started taking on other force-sensitive acolytes. My acute perceptions about his manipulative tendencies had finally sent him in a murderous rage.
My thoughts melt away, reminiscing about our last encounter...
"Cunt bitch!" He had screamed across the room, his hand outstretched in the air, his force pinning me; I was unable to move, my heels furiously scraping the wall trying to get purchase. I tried my best to not let him see that I was literally choking. But I think I failed.
"You dare try to tell me who I can and cannot promote? The next time you think you have an opinion on anything, you slip your slut mouth over my cock and you start sucking! Put that thing to some useful purpose!"
I feel the crush over my throat lessen momentarily and I know he's only doing it so that I can apologize and act contrite. But I'm already so angry that I think, Fuck it... worst thing that can happen is I die... so I rasp out, "I don't care who the fuck his parents are or that he trained with the great Luke Skywalker! He's unfit to be your commander! He's an idiot and unstable and so are you, you wrinkly old shit!"
I felt my body fly across the bedroom, hurdling into the opposite wall, which happened to be covered by a giant mirror and I lost consciousness to the sound of crashing glass and overwhelming pain.
Next thing I knew, I woke up, still alive.
Unfortunately...
I had several broken bones and numerous cuts on my arm and shoulder, some alarmingly deep. I ended up using my powers and healed myself in the solitude of my quarters. I found out I had been whisked onto a transport cruiser to the Quintillian's capitol planet as the newly appointed Trade Diplomat to the First Order.
I think that Snoke only did it to finally be rid of me, for good. But then, he could have just had me killed outright; but maybe, just maybe, he had had some semblance of twisted, warm feelings toward me? That stayed his hand?
He must have figured someone else would do the job for him. And whooo they certainly tried…
I was extraordinarily successful despite all the subsequent death threats and assassination attempts. Several of Quintillian's outer planet moons were openly hostile to the First Order's interference and I had to draw on all my strength in the force to persuade and charm my way to a trade deal; and do some covert murder and manipulation of my own to head my enemies off.
Blinking, I let my memories fade and turn back to the screen. I read on.
"I can't wait any longer for your presence, my pet. I need you here. And I know negotiations are wrapping up. I need your specialized expertise with Kylo Ren. Your "unstable idiot" is proving to be incredibly adept in force control and is my closest asset besides General Hux."
My eyes roll in the back of my head. So much for me and my being an asset at all. I’ve only been by your side for over ten years… What the fuck ever. I snort in derision at Snoke’s words about the Ren oddity. I remember the little helmet wearing pissant lose his temper over something inconsequential once and draw his light saber on one of the ship's control panels, totally decimating it. I determined even then I can't have respect for a man who has such explosive anger and is dragged out of control with his emotions. I scoff under my breath remembering it.
"With that being said, he might need some guidance... "
Why don't you do it, Snoke, isn't he your favorite little boy toy ?
"I find him drifting from his path to the dark side. He has just accomplished the trial of patricide and I sense his core is shaken. He has trouble focusing and rejecting the light and all its misguided self-righteousness. I feel like you can do the best for him... With all your obvious talents. I command you return with due haste and attach yourself to him. You will make yourself available to him. You will calm him and teach him. I expect to see you soon.
-Snoke"
My Telepad falls to the floor, my head is in my hands. He must be joking. I only wish he was. I take a deep breath and breathe out in a long, low whoosh. Just when I thought I was making my way in the world, no longer dependent on the fucking Supreme Leader, he reminds me I am still his little lap bitch. I feel revulsion well up in my throat, and defiance.
Not anymore. I can't. I won't. I refuse. At least for now. I shake my head in my hands to drive my point home. I'm going to stay and wait and see the culmination of all my hard work come to fruition. I'm too close. I'll just say the message was missent or not delivered at all. He'll punish me. But I don't care. I promptly delete the message and his contact, collapse my account, and mentally block him out with my abilities.
I'll show up when I fucking feel like it and he will just have to deal with it...
My stomach turns squeamish at a new thought.
So, I'm supposed to make myself "available" to helmet head, huh? I know what that means. Snoke is playing pimp again. Ugh... My skin alights in cold goosebumps. True, I don't know Kylo Ren, but I've never reached out to try and touch him, to penetrate his mind, to read him completely. All I've ever seen is some insect-like menace wearing that obnoxious mask or helmet or whatever the fuck it was. He always seemed to be stalking around The Supremacy and Star Killer Base. Of course, Star Killer is gone and I'm sure Snoke dressed down Hux smartly for that mistake. Poor Hux…he’s an asshole but he's come far in the military…he's an okay guy besides his penchant for blowing up planets and fucking every servant and slave in sight and…me...once upon a time.
Frustrated that I never force read Ren yet and I don't know what I'm getting myself into I determine to say 'fuck you' to Snoke and all his little minions and sit tight. They can wait. I'm just too good at this diplomacy shit.
Smiling, I aim a strong kick at the Telepad and it flies across the floor. It disappears under my dresser, and I feel, for what feels like the first time in a long time, that I have some control over my life... and it feels so good.