Ghosts
Father. Uncle. Mother. Two of them would haunt him forever now.
The Supreme Leader looked out into the darkness of space. Little islands of light existed within the sea, fated to be snuffed out in time. Whether it be billions of years from now, when they had burnt up the last of their fuel, or whether it be at the hands of the First Order, should another demonstration of their power be required. Trillions of years from now, there would be no light anywhere in the universe. It was in the order of things that the dark would always win in the end. The Sith and the Empire had failed, but finally, the First Order had succeeded where its predecessors had fallen short. They had brought order to the galaxy. "Darkness," as called by those who sought anarchy, but he could live with that. He could live with a lot of things. And yet…
"Your orders, Supreme Leader?"
He turned away from the window and returned to his throne. He'd never felt comfortable in it, but he did his best to portray a sense of regality to General Hux. He could sense the man's contempt for him. The same contempt that he'd always had for him, but now contempt mixed with fear. With but a movement, he could end his miserable life. With but a word, he could have his praetorians do the dirty work for him.
"No orders," he said. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention."
Hux bowed, and the Supreme Leader frowned. Hux was still a dog. A dog had its uses, but dogs were vicious creatures. They tore into the flesh of their prey, and if they did not kill them, the wounds would still fester. Dogs were ungainly, inelegant animals. Hux's wounds festered alright, and it seemed that for every wound he inflicted on the enemies of the galaxy, two wounded would rise up to right the perceived wrong.
And dogs are meant to be loyal, he reflected, as he watched the general exit the throne room of the Executor II. You're no dog, Hux. You're a jackal.
Possibly a dead jackal. The First Order had no shortage of officers that were eager to take Hux's place, and perhaps he'd give them the chance to succeed where Hux had failed. Because even now, after all these years, the Resistance existed in some form. An amorphous form with no command structure or central base. It was like fighting air, he reflected. Harmless, but undefeatable. And now, with this news…
"Leave me," he said.
The praetorians obliged, as they always did. His word was the word of the First Order, the word of the galaxy, the word of the Supreme Leader. They could not have known that this order was not of that man though. Rather it was the order of Kylo Ren. Perhaps, on some level, the order of Ben Solo. The boy who refused to die. He went over the missive again. The boy was crying. The Supreme Leader was content. Kylo Ren was…he couldn't say.
GENERAL ORGANA CONFIRMED DEAD
ANALYSIS: NATURAL CAUSES
ASHES SCATTERED IN ALDERAAN GRAVEYARD BY RESISTANCE CRUISER FREEDOM'S WHISPER
SHIP ENGAGED IN RETREAT WHEN CONFRONTED, NO CONFIRMED TRACJECTORY
The leader of the Resistance was dead. One of his greatest enemies was dead. The mother of Ben Solo was dead. He sighed, leaning back in the throne, feeling how its shape cut into his spine. Five years on, and he hadn't got used to this chair. This was fortuitous news, he reflected. News worthy of being sent to the Supreme Leader. And yet…
Kylo Ren had killed the father of Ben Solo. Han Solo had died in silence, even as Ben Solo had screamed. Kylo Ren had let the light enter his wounds inflicted by the scavenger who still eluded him. Kylo Ren had tried to kill the past, and failed at least twice. The mother of Ben Solo had died on her terms, not his. She would always be there, one loose thread that could never be cut. One strand of yarn for Ben Solo to clasp hold of, and crawl his way out of the pit and infect him from the inside. Like her brother, Leia Organa had evaded his reach.
See you around kid.
He blinked. He looked around the throne room. Only he was there. If there was an assassin, they would fall, as all who challenged the Supreme Leader had. The Supreme Leader had nothing to fear. Kylo Ren though…
Kylo Ren had spent the last five years wondering if he could have bested Luke Skywalker on Crait, had the coward decided to show up at all. Kylo Ren had spent the last five years wondering if perhaps Luke Skywalker had won. Kylo Ren had spent the last five years holding him back – Ben Solo was mostly silent, but Kylo Ren…who was he, to what he was now?
Let the past die, he told himself. Kill it.
Kylo Ren had failed. Twice. Now, he, as Supreme Leader, was left with the ghosts of his uncle and mother. He had not killed the past. The past had died on its own terms. The past existed, immutable. Enough to give Kylo Ren pause, and enough to give Ben Solo hope. And if someone as wretched as Ben Solo refused to kneel before him, how long before the galaxy would? The Dark Side was strong with him, but he would not last forever. Even Palpatine had fallen in the end. When darkness took him, who would keep his light kindled?
In silence, the Supreme Leader sat and thought.
In silence, Kylo Ren sat and grieved.
In silence, Ben Solo laughed, and refused to die.