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“You won’t,” Ren muttered, gritting his teeth. “You won’t miss the uncertainty, the chaos, the imbalance to your perfect regime.” Hux bit his lip, clenched his fists. “You might miss the idea of me, but you won’t miss me. Nothing you can say will convince me otherwise.”
“I suppose there’s little reason for me to even try since, evidently, you already know my mind better than I do,” Hux spat, the words filled with such venom that Ren felt his skin prickle beneath his armor. “You should leave now. Your command shuttle is waiting,Lord Ren.”
“We will meet again, General.”
“Will we, indeed? Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps it is better that we do not. I don’t know if my…regime could survive such a tumultuous event.”
“It’s not a matter of choice,” Ren replied softly, closing the distance between them. He removed one of his gloves before cupping Hux’s cheek. “Do you believe in destiny?” Hux thought back to the holo-images he’d seen as a child. By then they’d already been dead two years. Emperor Palpatine - impossibly ancient, clad in imperial robes, waving to the crowds. Darth Vader by his side - not as tall as some of the Imperial Guards, yet towering over them in ways that no rational man should perceive.
“…Yes.”