His True Enemy – Confronting Snoke

Note: I don’t understand how the STUPID ESCAPE POD worked in the movie, and neither of the books were forthcoming with details. In the movie, she goes through like this manhole to get to it, whereas I just have her lie down in it right there in front of Chewie–it’s easier to follow.

Once she lands in the Supremacy hangar, I originally thought the door lifted, opening the pod, but I realized I can see the overhead lights reflecting in the glass of the viewport, so I guess the vapor was from the landing process and it hadn’t opened yet?

I also don’t understand how the lighting inside it worked, or if/what she could see out of the viewport. When she first launches, we can see her illuminated inside through the window, but when she lands, the interior is mostly dark, then I can just barely see shutters retracting, letting light in.

But why would the window get covered, and at what point did the shutters close? What on earth kind of vessel can you drive without looking where you’re going? Does she drive it? Or is it preset with coordinates and she just hops in and hopes for the best? Is there no manual override in case of complications? Or did they know the Order would draw it in with a tractor beam or something?

I just have so many questions. Nothing about that escape pod makes sense to me, and I can’t find a decent resource explaining the process. The author of the novel described some things down to the nuts and bolts and left others completely unexplained. SO…ya’ll are just going to have to live with what I wrote. Because fanfiction.

And yes, “save Ben Solo, save the Resistance,” is an homage to “save the cheerleader, save the world.” 😉

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The Millennium Falcon hurtles through hyperspace, heading toward the coordinates being transmitted via the homing beacon Rey has worn on her wrist. General Organa carries its mate, and as it has yet to stop transmitting a signal, Rey, Chewbacca, and R2-D2 feel safe to assume that the Resistance escaped D’Qar.

They also feel it’s safe to assume that where the Resistance is, the First Order is not far behind.

As Rey crouches to enter the small, cramped bay where the ship’s escape pod is stored, she can practically feel the worry and doubt emanating from her shipmates, who linger in the corridor; but they don’t move to stop her, respecting her decision, and she’s grateful.

She’s going to Ben. It’s not a good plan, as Chewie frequently reminds her. But it’s the only plan Rey has. Her mission to retrieve Luke failed spectacularly; however, the Force showed her another way. She knows if she goes to Ben, he’ll come back to the light. She’s not exactly sure how or why—visions don’t extend to details—but she considers putting herself at the mercy of the enemy a trial; a test of courage and faith—in Ben, in the Force. And in herself.

The moment they departed from Ahch-To, Rey ducked into the ship’s refresher, where she discarded her soaked, soiled clothes and donned dry second-hand apparel given to her during her brief stay with the Resistance on D’Qar. She left her hair loose around her neck; it was…freeing.

As she studied her reflection in the mirror over the sink, she’d thought of the cave and the infinite line of Reys. But there was only one face in the mirror aboard the Falcon, and that face wasn’t the lost girl from Jakku. It was the face of a young woman who had seized control of her life and decided to fight for what she believes. It was a young woman who would restore Ben Solo to the light and by so doing save the galaxy from oppression.

It’s as large a task as they come. A lot of pressure. And after a life of sitting in a nearly uninhabited desert, alone and directionless, she embraces the challenge.

“As soon as I launch, you jump back out of range,” she instructs the other two as she climbs into the narrow escape pod that can accommodate only one. She ignores its resemblance to a dingy metal coffin. “Stay there until you get my signal for where to rendezvous.”

The silver-and-blue domed astromech beeps a confirmation. Chewie growls his disapproval once again; she doesn’t respond.

“If you see Finn before I do, tell him…” She trails off, at a loss for words to describe her experience on the island. All that has happened.

And…she didn’t think till now—how would she reconcile Ben with…everyone else?

She’ll worry about that later. She has to reconcile Ben with the light, first.

Chewie yowls a suggestion, and she gives him a small smile. “Yeah, perfect. Tell him that.” The Wookiee nods his great hairy head.

She inhales deeply, tightens her grip on Luke’s lightsabre, then expels the breath and lies down in the pod.

Chewie closes the hatch, and suddenly she’s alone. One small girl against an army of thousands.

But not for long. Not if her vision was true.

You’re not alone.

She launches from the Falcon and feels a wave of vertigo as the pod tumbles through space before the drive system kicks in. When it does, the interior goes dark, removing the glare from the viewport and allowing her look outside. Not that there’s much to see; only the infinite black void of space, and distant stars winking from lightyears away.

Then the interior of a hangar appears—pipes and catwalks, rafters and beams—all black and gray and chrome and blinding white lights.

The pod slows; her heartbeat quickens. The thrusters grow quiet; her breaths come louder. Her nerves jumping, she startles and gasps when the pod lands with a thud and a clank. She blinks up at the lights in the hangar ceiling.

Then with a puff of vapor, the hatch unlocks and rises; the interior light once again illuminates her. The moment the door no longer obstructs her line of sight, her gaze is drawn as if by an instinctive magnet to a familiar pair of dark, fathomless eyes.

His expression is blank. Flat. She scrutinizes his strong features, searching for any trace of emotion, finding none. Her brows dip along with her confidence. What is he thinking? Is he glad she came? Dismayed, angry?

Did she make a terrible mistake?

No. He still has a reputation as Kylo Ren to maintain among the Order; he must be concealing his emotions from the sake of the troopers. She doesn’t want to think that, after everything, Ben would try to hide from her.

He moves aside, authority in his bearing, and a pair of stormtroopers step forward; one holds a rifle at the ready, the other brandishes a set of binders.

She wasn’t fool enough to expect a warm welcome, but are restraints necessary? She came voluntarily.

Reputation. Procedure. She is the enemy.

She’ll submit. For now.

 

After commandeering Skywalker’s sabre, Ren marches Rey to the turbolift. Inside, he stands at the back, his eyes fixed on a point above her head.

When their last connection was severed, Ren worried for Rey’s safety, alone wherever she was with Skywalker. But he quickly realized the old man was no match for an angry Rey—and she would be angry when she confirmed that the Jedi had lied to her. That betrayal would chase her away, and Ren knew she would come to him–because he’s never lied to her. She would feel safe with him, as absurd as that might sound.

But despite how she might feel, she’s not safe here.

He has to take her to Snoke. If he doesn’t, they’re both dead. He never told Snoke about their connection through the Force, but Snoke sensed Ren was soft toward her long before Ren admitted it to himself. Yes, the Supreme Leader will be eager to meet her.

And Ren’s not a fool. Perhaps for a moment he tried to convince himself Snoke might find use for her, might keep her as a pet…but that wasn’t realistic. Rey would never subject herself to Snoke, not willingly, and Snoke wouldn’t allow her to live outside of his command. She’s too powerful, too much of a threat; a variable in Snoke’s equation. So Snoke will play with her, taunt her, bat her around for his amusement. And when he tires of play, he’ll take from her what he will.

Then the Supreme Leader will expect Ren to kill her. Like he killed his father. Like he should have killed his mother.

But he won’t kill Rey.

By simply existing, she has given him an option he hardly allowed himself to entertain, for it had seemed a ludicrous fantasy. Before her, he was alone. He thought his conflicted soul was a weakness, a fault. His parents viewed it as such, as did Luke—and even Snoke, though he taught Ren that the light, while a weakness, has its uses.

But Rey showed Ren that the conflict which has plagued him all his life doesn’t have to be a weakness.

You’re not alone.

Neither are you.

It’s time to move forward. No more masters. As an apprentice, he always failed to realize his potential. But as a partner in power…

But how does one defeat the invincible? Everyone has a weakness. What is Snoke’s?

“You don’t have to do this.”

And how can Ren use it against him?

“I feel the conflict in you,” Rey says. “It’s tearing you apart.”

Yes, because he fights it. He’s fought it for nearly thirty years, and the struggle never eased. It worsened. Clearly, he’s been going about it all wrong. He needs to embrace it. Soon, with all masters gone and Rey at his side, he will.

“Ben.”

The name jolts him out of his thoughts; his eyes dart to her. For years, that name was dead to him—and then his father called out to him. Reached out to him.

Ben! Take off that mask. You don’t need it. Not here. Not with me.

Rey uttered the name; the rest he can read in her gaze.

But the indifferent facade he currently wears isn’t meant for her. For her, he removed his mask a long time ago.

“When we touched hands, I saw your future. Just the shape of it, but solid and clear.” She steps toward him, and he starts to shake his head; the less communion Snoke witnesses between them, the better. But the denial’s half-hearted at best; he wants her near.

“You will not bow before Snoke,” she asserts, then glances away, as if unsure–not of the words themselves, but if she should be delivering them to him. After only a heartbeat, though, her eyes come back to his and hold for a long moment. With that, he knows she’s giving him the entire truth. At least, her entire truth. “You’ll turn. I’ll help you,” she promises quietly, swaying closer as if to emphasize the sentiment with proximity. “I saw it.”

But visions of the future are vague, fickle things; imprecise and easily misinterpreted. What exactly did she see?

It doesn’t matter. After everything–even after Skywalker himself admitted to attempted murder–she still believes there’s a definitive line drawn between the dark and the light. He doesn’t hold it against her; she’s young, naive, and a novice in the ways of the Force. Eventually, she’ll realize it’s not so simple. She’ll come to the conclusion that they’ve connected for a specific reason; and then at last, she’ll comprehend that they are a law unto themselves.

But he’s tired of waiting for her to understand. He thought she did the last time they saw each other, but he must have been mistaken.

Confronting Snoke could be a turning point in their lives–if they survive–and he wants to know they’ll face the same direction when it’s over.

Reveling in her nearness, he whispers, “I saw something, too.”

More solid than the future, it was the past.

When they first met, he felt a queer sense of familiarity, though he knew they’d never crossed paths before. Seeking an explanation, he delved into her mind and beheld her life as a scavenger; she was lonely, isolated, waiting for someone to return for her. But he sensed something else, darker, a knot of pain buried deep inside: the knowledge that she could hope until the stars died—but no one was ever going to come back for her. She’d been cast off like unwanted clutter. Much as he had been.

He wondered who could be so callous, so cold; wondered what they cared about if not Rey.

When they touched, the Force showed him.

He remembers the desert, and the dirty couple itching to leave so that they might seek a more hospitable environment—such as a cantina. But they were broke and had nothing to sell—except a curious little girl, her downy brown hair pulled back into three tiny buns. And, without a second thought, sell her they did.

She didn’t deserve abandonment.

Neither did he. No one does.

“Because of what I saw,” he murmurs, “I know when the time comes, you’ll be the one to turn. You’ll stand with me.” She won’t abandon him; she won’t continue the cycle. They’ll find a place where neither of them has to strive for one ideal or the other. A place where they can’t fail.

Her expression shifts, her earnestness disappearing behind a wall of caution.

“Rey.” He pauses, conveying to her the significance of his words. “I saw who your parents are.”

I know they’re scum. I know they threw you away. But I won’t, and never will.

But she doesn’t hear his silent vow. She backs away from him, no longer confident and close, but wary and withdrawn. She’s questioning her vision, questioning her trust in him, all because of a crime she’s afraid to acknowledge and make true. She has no idea how high she could soar if she would only let go of that to which she desperately clings. His eyes follow her, willing her to understand what’s happening.

She sees beyond the darkness in him, and he appreciates the darkness in her.

When Snoke is gone, when Skywalker is gone, when all the ignoramuses who would limit them are gone…

Together, he and Rey will change the galaxy.

 

The lift comes to a halt with a mechanical whir, and the doors slide open. Turning away from Ben, Rey takes in a large, open chamber with high red walls that reflect off a shiny black floor. An obsidian throne dominates the space. Seated upon it is a decrepit creature who, by appearance alone, one wouldn’t think dangerous; yet his gaunt form exudes power. It burns in his wizened gaze and lurks behind his smirk.

Rey’s concerns about Ben fall to the back of her mind as Snoke’s potent presence fills the forefront. She barely registers the crimson sentinels spread out around the edge of the chamber, or the cloaked figures standing off to the right. Her attention is centered, almost involuntarily, on the creature robed in gold.

Ben ushers her forward with a gloved hand on her arm, his touch neither rough nor gentle. As they stride into the chamber, the creature speaks, his voice deep, menacing. “Well done, my good and faithful apprentice. My faith in you is restored.”

The hand leaves her arm; Ben’s warmth leaves her side. And though she cannot see him, she knows he’s bowing before his master.

Apprehension trickles down her spine, but her features remain set and resolute.

Her vision will come to pass. It will.

“Young Rey,” purrs Supreme Leader Snoke, mocking her with a hideous grin. “Welcome.”

With a low beep, the binders around Rey’s wrists unlock and fall to the floor with a quiet clatter. She shakes her hands to restore circulation.

“Come closer, child,” Snoke orders.

She glares at him, unwilling to be commanded by the hateful wretch. He has enough subjects at his beck and call.

Ignoring her defiance, he seems to muse aloud. “So much strength. Darkness rises…” He lifts first his right hand, palm up and open, then his left. “And light to meet it.” Almost reverently, he clasps his hands together. “I warned my young apprentice that as he grew stronger, his equal in the light would rise.”

Rey doesn’t flinch when Luke’s lightsabre whisks past her and into Snoke’s grasp. “Skywalker, I assumed,” he admits with a light chuckle as he places the gleaming hilt on the wide armrest of the black throne. “Wrongly.”

For a moment, he regards her with pale, piercing blue eyes. “Closer, I said.”

Her feet leave the floor, and she begins to float toward the dais, her arms stiff at her sides, her fists clenched. There is nothing more frightening than being unable to move when every instinct is telling you to run–and he knows it.

While the hair on the back of her neck stands erect, she speaks with firm conviction,  ignoring any doubts she might harbor. She believes in the Force, in her vision. “You underestimate Skywalker. And Ben Solo. And me.” Her rigid body follows the incline of the dais until she hovers before the throne. “It will be your downfall.”

In a deeply creased face marred by grotesque scars, his features contort with anxiety. “Have you seen something? A weakness in my apprentice? Is that why you came?”

Her eyes gleam with triumph as she strains her limbs to overthrow his influence.

Then he laughs, and her stomach drops.

“Young fool,” he chortles before falling sober. “It was I who bridged your minds.”

 

Ren glances up sharply, everything inside him gone still.

“I stoked Ren’s conflicted soul,” Snoke boasts. “I knew he was not strong enough to hide it from you.”

A cur’s weakness, properly manipulated, can be a sharp tool.

He knew. Snoke has been in control the entire time. He’s maneuvered them like puppets on a string. Ren never had secret knowledge, never had power over him.

Resentment burns in his chest. He gave everything to Snoke when he joined the dark side–but he wanted to keep Rey and their connection to himself. She was meant for him. But Snoke orchestrated their meetings; he was behind it all. She only seemed to be meant for him.

No. The bond was there. That familiarity, the fascination. And Snoke used it against him. The best thing that had ever happened to him, and it was used to manipulate him. To hurt Rey.

His own weakness will have destroyed their partnership before it even began.

No.

That’s wrong. Snoke’s wrong.

Rey isn’t Ren’s weakness.

She’s his motivation.

Snoke presumes his authority is absolute. Presumes he’s omnipotent. Omniscient. He sees all, knows all.

But he’s wrong.

How to use his arrogance against him?

 

“And you,” Snoke taunts Rey, “were not wise enough to resist the bait.”

Her stomach rolls with dread.

He knows about the light inside Ben. He wanted them to sympathize with one another.

They did exactly what he wanted them to do. They have no advantage.

“And now, you will give me Skywalker,” the Supreme Leader hisses, his warped countenance twisting into a snarl. Leaning forward in his seat, he cups his massive hand around her head. Pressure builds inside her skull; she grits her teeth, her chest heaving. “Then I will kill you with the cruelest stroke.”

Concentrating all her energy on resisting his mental assault, she snaps, “No.”

“Yes.” Thrusting out his arm, he propels her across the chamber and suspends her in midair. “Give. Me. Everything.”

When Ben searched her mind in the holding cell on Starkiller Base, she was barely able to think beyond the pain. Now, she realizes just how gentle he’d been.

As her mind is rent and torn, her memories and dreams mauled and shoved aside, coherent thought slips away, and her world dissolves into an boundless state of abject agony.

 

Horror and guilt consume Ben as he stares up at her small, quivering frame. He knew something like this could happen. Would—but there’s a marked difference between knowing it’s possible and seeing it done.

And there’s nothing he can do. Nothing that wasn’t failed before it was attempted.

When she begins to whimper, he drops his eyes to the floor. He can’t watch.

And then she screams, guttural, mindless. And screams. And screams.

And screams.

 

After minutes—days—weeks—Rey drops to the floor with a sickening thud. No longer paralyzed, she rolls onto her side, groaning and grimacing, her teeth clenched. Black spots dance in her vision; the room spins. She makes a concentrated effort to keep the contents of her stomach where they belong.

Snoke chuckles, the sound raking over her scalp like razor-sharp claws. “I did not expect Skywalker to be so wise. We will give him and the Jedi Order the death he desires,” he proclaims with sinister satisfaction, gazing straight at her, goading her as she props herself up on one arm. “After the Rebels are gone, we will go to his planet and obliterate the entire island.”

After the Rebels are gone.

No. He can hurt her, but he won’t hurt her friends. She won’t let him. Rage erupts, supplying her with the energy to shove to her feet and throw out her hand, calling to Luke’s sabre. It streaks toward her—then goes wide, circling around Ben and coming back to smack her upside the head. Crying out, she doubles over as the blow aggravates her resultant headache from the invasion. When the pain has ebbed, she straightens to see that the sabre has returned to it’s former position next to Snoke.

“Such spunk. Look here now.” Commanding her body once again, he leisurely waves a finger and shoves her through the air toward a large magnified viewing scope. Grimacing, she studies it, wondering what she’s supposed to see—then the red wall parts, revealing a viewport and, beyond that, a fleet of small shuttles. As she watches, a green laser bolt crashes into one of the vulnerable vessels; the shuttle explodes in a burst of flame.

As if struck by a cold draft, her skin prickles in alarm as she realizes what she’s looking at. With wide, horrified eyes, she watches another green bolt collide with a shuttle, destroying it.

Finn. Leia.

“The entire Resistance, on those transports. Soon they will all be gone. For you,” Snoke hisses with malevolent delight, “all is lost.”

Not yet. Teeth bared, she reaches toward Ben’s impassive form and calls his lightsabre from his belt. He looks up, but she doesn’t pause to read his expression.

Maybe he won’t fight, but she will. She’ll fight to her dying breath. It’s her purpose—save Ben Solo, save the Resistance. Save the only things that have given her life meaning. She can’t help Ben if he won’t help himself, but she can defend her friends.

The moment Ben’s sabre hits her palm, she brings it to snapping, frenetic life and assumes a combative stance. Around the room, the guards in crimson armor do the same.

“Oh!” Snoke exclaims with approval. “Still that fiery spit of hope. You have the spirit of a true Jedi!”

His mockery spurs her, and with a fierce growl, she charges toward him. As she draws near, she raises the sabre to strike.

He merely flicks his fingers, and she goes flying.

 

Rey cries out as she arcs through the air. Ren’s sabre is torn out of her hand and deactivated before clattering against the floor. It slides to a point directly in front of him; he watches it slowly spin to a halt.

And watching it, knows what to do.

“And because of that,” Snoke says to Rey, “you must die.” With a careless gesture, he forces her upright and rotates her to kneel before Ren.

“My worthy apprentice. Son of darkness. Heir apparent to Lord Vader.”

Ren looks up as Snoke addresses him–too little, too late. Keeping his expression carefully neutral, he works through the plan in his mind.

The Supreme Leader is so confident in his control, his authority, his greater power, that it doesn’t occur to him to pay any mind to the weapon resting beside him.

But the last time Ren tried to command the Skywalker sabre, it rebuffed him. What if it does so now?

He’ll take the chance; it’s the only one he has.

“Where there was conflict, I now sense resolve. Where there was weakness, strength. Complete your training—and fulfill your destiny.”

Bending, Ren gingerly picks up his sabre and stands, his gaze locked on Rey.

His destiny.

Panting in pain as she fights Snoke’s control, Rey watches Ren warily. “I know what I have to do,” he calmly confides. It’s an ambiguous statement spoken with ambiguous inflection; he could be addressing either Rey or Snoke. But it’s not Snoke’s gaze Ren holds steady.

 

Ben said the same thing to Han a moment before he killed him. I know what I have to do, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.

He doesn’t seem at all uncertain now. Despite the commonalities she and Ben have discovered, despite the empathy and comfort each has provided for the other, will she, too, be a sacrifice to his pursuit of power?

Tendrils of panic coil around Rey’s heart. Her vision, her vision. But visions can be wrong. The course of events can be altered. Can’t they?

“Ben,” she breathes, willing him to remember how far they’ve come in such a short time; willing him to know that she meant what she said.

You’re not alone.

Neither are you.

Hearing the name and the entreaty with which it was spoken, Snoke scoffs. “You think you can turn him? Pathetic child. I cannot be betrayed. I cannot be beaten. I see his mind. I see his every intent. Yes. I see him turning the lightsabre to strike true.”

Slowly, Ren lifts his sabre until it’s aimed at her heart.

Helpless tears well and spill onto her cheeks. She won’t beg; but neither will she disguise her fear, her aching heart—or her hope. Don’t do this, Ben. There’s good in you. I believe it. Please don’t do this.

His jaw clenches; his throat works.

“And now, foolish child,” Snoke growls with disdain, “he ignites it—and kills his true enemy!”

She hears a sabre screech as it’s activated–and has only a fraction of a second to realize it wasn’t Ren’s before she collapses to the floor. Bewildered, she cranes her neck to see what could have broken Snoke’s concentration so abruptly. It couldn’t be–

It is.

A glowing blue blade juts from the Supreme Leader’s side.

While she gapes, Luke’s lightsabre slices through Snoke’s midsection—and continues straight toward her as the upper half of his body tumbles to the floor.

Her heart thundering in her ears, elation seeping into the very marrow of her bones, she snatches the sabre out of the air and pushes to her feet.

He chose her. He chose the light.

She succeeded.

Dismissing his slain master, Ren lowers his wide eyes to hers; the indifference is gone, and she wades through a glorious swirl of emotions in their dark, dark depths. The remnants of fear quickly fade, as does the astonishment. Revealed in their departure is a firm decision–as well as a thorough absence of regret.

He ignites his sabre, washing his countenance in the color of blood and power as exhilaration floods him. He seems ready, almost too ready, to begin this bright new era. But his eyes question her: Are you with me?

In her periphery, the guards rush forward, weapons lit, eager to spill the enemy’s blood and avenge their leader. But she’s not afraid.

In answer to him, she sucks in a long breath, sets her jaw, and whirls to face their adversaries, knowing Ben will protect her blindside. As she will protect his.

Not a trace of doubt remains.

They’re in this together.

Just as she saw in her vision.

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If you liked this, let me know. If not, well, constructive criticism has its uses, too. Feel free to share excerpts on Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook, etc.–just please be sure to credit me and link back to this site. Thanks, guys!

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A Child in a Mask – Ren’s first few scenes

Just You – the first force connection

Lesson One – Rey’s first lesson from Luke

A Monster – the second force connection

Your Greatest Weakness – Rey’s second lesson from Luke and the third force connection

Not Alone – sea cave and fourth force connection

Let Old Things Die – the “proposal” scene

Let Old Things Die – revised and expanded

The Supreme Leader – Ren’s last few scenes

 

You’re Nothing – A Ben Solo Character Study

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