Chapter Text
Few rarely ever volunteer to take up arms for the First Order. Many warriors were taken as children, given up, or cloned to fight for the First Order since the fall of the Galactic Empire.
The rare individual who enlists is automatically placed in a special squadron to be trained by Captain Phasma, a terrifying woman who embodies the very essence of ferocity and elegance. You’ve spent the last three years looking up to the captain, striving to be as fearless and dangerous as she. Conversely, the captain has taken a liking to you; your dedication to the First Order is impressive, and Captain Phasma decides that she would take you under her wing and train you to the best of her ability. In the last few years, she’s taught you everything she knows, treating you as her number one apprentice, even hinting that one day you could be her possible successor.
Today, you’re first in line to train with her in hand-to-hand combat. She teaches you about channeling your energy and staying on your toes. In the middle of sparring with her, the familiar voice of General Hux rings through the training center.
“Captain!” he calls out. Captain Phasma stops and you stand at attention for the general.
“Is there something I can help you with, General?” Phasma’s voice is even but you can sense the aggravation behind her words.
“I need FN-8426.” You furrow your brow and glance between him and the captain.
Phasma approaches him and Hux physically quivers. He looks up at her with fearful eyes, but stands his ground and doesn’t relent to her intimidation tactics. The captain’s fists clench at her sides but she maintains her composure.
“And why is that, exactly?”
General Hux clears his throat and stares up at Phasma. “Captain, I am simply here on Ren’s orders, and he asked to speak with FN-8426.”
Your limbs immediately go weak and bile threatens to climb up your throat upon hearing the general’s words. Phasma goes quiet for a moment before nodding, turning on her heel, and walking towards the other members of her special squadron.
General Hux approaches you with his arms behind his back. “Ren would like to speak with you,” is all he says, his icy blue gaze chilling you to your core.
Through all of the questions racing through your mind, you manage a feeble, “Yes, sir,” in response. What could Ren possibly want with you? Being called to meet with him personally reasonably means certain death, but you can’t recall anything that you’ve done that would provoke such a fate.
You’ve seen him stride by many times, gazing at him under the safety of your helmet and wondering who the man behind the mask is. Many Stormtroopers have asked the same; in the safety of their quarters, the warriors whisper about the mystery that is Kylo Ren.
You follow General Hux up to the debriefing room that you’ve passed many times before, but never seen inside. He ushers you in but doesn’t follow you. Instead, the door slides shut and you stand paralyzed at the sight of Kylo Ren standing only a few feet away. He’s studying a map of the galaxy, but that’s all you can make out before he’s looking in your direction and shutting down the hologram.
“FN-8426.” He’s even more intimidating up close, his helmet and wardrobe dark and menacing in contrast to your own uniform. Though his face is hidden behind the mask, you can feel his gaze upon you, making you feel small. “I can tell that you’re nervous, but there’s no reason for you to be afraid of me. I simply called you here because I want to ask you a few questions.”
“Yes, sir,” you respond automatically, embarrassed by the weakness of your voice.
Ren moves around the table and walks towards you, taking slow, deliberate steps. You stand perfectly still as he moves around you, instinctively holding your breath.
“FN-8426, I understand you are one of the few enlistees in the First Order who has been training with Captain Phasma.”
It’s not a question, but you respond anyway. “Affirmative, sir.”
“The captain says you are quite a remarkable fighter, and an even more remarkable pilot. Tell me, FN-8426, where do you come from?”
“Dantooine, in the Outer Rim, sir.”
You’re surprised to hear a light chuckle come from Ren. Every time you’ve seen him, he’s seemed stiff and focused--a man on a mission. “As much as I like hearing you call me ‘sir,’ there’s really no need to be so formal. In fact, what is your given name, if I may ask?”
“[Y/N],” you state, proud that your voice doesn’t quiver as it did before.
“[Y/N],” he repeats. “That’s a beautiful name.”
The compliment catches you off-guard. You wonder for a moment if this is truly happening, or if you’re still asleep in your quarters and this is all an elaborate dream. Ren gives another low chuckle, and your lips twitch, threatening to turn into a full smile.
“May I ask another question?” he asks. You nod. “Why did you decide to enlist with the First Order?”
It’s something you’ve thought about many times over your last few years with the Order, though you’ve never regretted your decision to enlist. “I hope for order in the entire galaxy. The Resistance and the Republic only throw the galaxy further into chaos. But there’s a difference between hoping for something and being a part of something. I wanted to be a part of something.”
“A noble response from a noble warrior.” Ren’s tone is appreciative. “[Y/N], there is a specific reason I wanted to speak with you.”
Fear grips at your heart again, but you say nothing.
Ren continues, “As you probably know, I have a special squadron who accompanies me on missions and also operates special reconnaissance. I keep this squadron to a maximum of five exceptional warriors. Unfortunately, on an undercover survey of Hosnian Prime, one of my soldiers was killed, forcing me to find a replacement. Given Captain Phasma’s outstanding report, I’ve decided that you are the best fit for the squadron. That is, if you’re interested.”
You’re convinced that this must be a dream. There’s no way that Kylo Ren himself is asking you to work directly with him in his personal squadron. You’re thankful for your helmet, otherwise Ren would see your red face and gleeful expression.
“I would be honored, sir,” you reply.
Ren gives a slight nod. “Very good. I will inform the captain and you will head for you new station immediately.”
--
You had always been curious about what Kylo Ren looked like underneath his helmet. You’re not sure how many people truly knew what the man looked like, given that a lot of the other soldiers questioned the same thing.
During your first few weeks as one of Ren’s right hand soldiers, you finish going over a plan of action for the imminent infiltration of Tuanul on Jakku. You and your four teammates are to lead large groups of Stormtroopers in to surround the area and move in on Phasma’s orders. Ren sits by patiently as Hux and Phasma explain, and subsequently quiz each of you on your orders for this invasion.
“You five will lead the mission in five days,” Hux says, looking between each of them with his hands clasped behind his back. “This is important and we need all of you to be ready.”
“We’ll be ready, sir,” you assure, giving a nod. Hux and Phasma share a glance before nodding back.
“Very well,” Ren speaks up, his head still tilted towards the hologram of Jakku. “You are dismissed. Except for you, FN-8426. I need to speak with you.”
Hux, Phasma, and your four teammates exit the debriefing room, leaving you alone with Ren. Your knee-jerk reaction is to panic, but you try to keep your breathing even as Ren closes out the hologram. You watch him carefully as he brings his hands up, pulls his hood off, then pulls his helmet off of his head. You gasp inwardly at the young man standing before you. You’d always imagined him to be much older, but you realize he couldn’t be more than a few years older than yourself. You also never expected him to be so. . .handsome.
Ren chuckles, snapping you from your thoughts. He taps his own forehead then points at you. It takes a second, but you realize he wants you to remove your helmet as well. With shaky hands, you pull the helmet from your head and blink at him. He smirks, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief.
“[Y/N],” he starts. You study him quickly, your gaze running over the black curls that frame his face, the freckles at adorn his cheeks, and his lips that are still curved in a smirk. You take him in as much as you can, seeing as you may never have this chance again. “You’ve done an exceptional job these past few weeks. You’ve shown commitment and initiative greater than some of your own teammates. However, I just want you to know that this upcoming mission is far more important than you realize. Given what you’ve exhibited these past few weeks, I feel that I am able to trust you with our true directive in this mission. Truly, I may need your help.”
You meet Ren’s heavy gaze and give him a single nod. “You can always trust me, sir.”
“I know,” Ren replies. “I can feel it.”
You ponder that statement briefly before asking, “So, what is the priority on Jakku?”
Ren is silent for a moment, looking down at his helmet and brushing away invisible dirt. “I’m looking for a map--a map that leads to Luke Skywalker.”
--
The mission on Jakku is not a success, but it is not a failure, either. You and your squadmates escort a man you captured in Tuanul to a holding cell where he is strapped down and forced to wait for a confrontation by Kylo Ren. You were given instructions to inform Ren when the prisoner was prepared, so you set off to the debriefing room.
When you arrive, you find a terrified Hux and hear the sounds of anguished wailing from inside the room. You quickly open the door against Hux’s warnings and find Ren viciously slashing at the wall with his lightsaber. You pull your helmet off and set it on the table before moving towards him, erring on the side of caution.
“Sir! Sir! Stop!” You don’t dare to go near him for fear of crossing paths with his lightsaber. You watch in horror as he slashes at the wall, sparks flying all around him. Your teammates have warned you about these outbursts, but you’ve never witnessed one yourself. In fact, since joining Ren’s squadron, you’ve never seen him get angry.
He pulls off his helmet; it falls to the ground with a thud and rolls towards your feet. Ren braces one gloved hand on the scarred wall and breathes heavily. You immediately move towards him and touch his shoulder. He glances at you, his eyes bloodshot and cheeks tear-streaked. You look at the Stormtroopers standing in the doorway and give them a hollow nod. They take their cue and leave quickly, the door sliding shut behind them.
Ren turns his whole body towards you and you touch his face tentatively. “You’re okay,” you say in a gentle voice, studying his face as pants heavily. “You’re okay. Just keep your eyes on me.” The warm, brown gaze that you had seen in the rare moment that his helmet was off is replaced by fiery rage and desperation. You curl your fingers into his black locks, your fingertips massaging gently into his scalp as his breathing starts to even out.
He looks up at you with watery eyes and opens his mouth. “I. . .” he trails off into silence, averting his gaze from yours.
You smile weakly and tilt his head back until he’s looking at you again. “You’re not required to explain anything, Kylo.” His name slips out before you can catch it. You’re afraid that this will anger him further, but instead, his expression softens and he slumps into your embrace.
“Thank you, [Y/N],” he mumbles.
“Anytime, sir,” you respond. “It happens to the best of us.”