Author's Notes: I'm not usually one for writing what I consider dark fics especially in terms of subject matter, but other fic authors who dared to venture into dark themes inspired me so here's my first reylo dark fic. It's dark in that the subject matter is dark. WARNING FOR UNDERAGE SEXUAL THEMES. Rey is 13 and Kylo is 33. You have been warned. I don't have to explain myself to you. Don't like, don't read.
The girl's hand was tiny against his, pale fingers grasping around his limp forefinger as he stood motionlessly before the freshly dug grave, watching as her mother's casket made its descent into the earth.
There were precious few people who attended the funeral. His wife was not someone very well liked, for the same reasons he did not shed a tear. The few who did were women who were just like her—spoiled, wild and wanton—and the few men, he was sure, were some of whom she had trysts with even as she had vowed to be faithful to him.
None of her relatives had attended. None of them, not even her parents, wanted to have anything to do with her. They had cut her off even before she married him.
He was young when he married her. Young and foolish. He had wanted to do right by her when she got pregnant, so at a tender age of twenty, he had sworn his life to her; lavished upon her an opulent lifestyle afforded by the fortune of his departed parents and the hard work of his own hands. But it seemed no matter how hard he tried to please her, nothing was ever enough; nothing except the company of her friends, and as he would soon find out, the company of other men.
He tore his eyes away from her casket and looked down at the three-year-old still clutching his finger. This girl, Rey, was not his; for that he was all too certain. She could be anyone's yet here she was, now under his care, this pale, sickly child that looked nothing like him but appeared every bit like her mother—from her brown hair, to her hazel eyes, to her pink lips.
Not for the first time, he wondered if she would follow down the same destructive path as the woman who bore her. He wondered if he should care whether or not she did. But as much as he resented her mother, he was duty bound to this child. Her mother had made sure of that.
Because despite her wild ways, despite the affairs, the scandals, the drugs, Annabelle did something right: she sacrificed her life to bring her daughter to the world.
He snatched his finger away from Rey's grasp and walked away before they had even finished lowering the casket, his thick, black coat billowing in the wind. He couldn't see her, but he could tell from the pitter patter of feet behind him that she was trying to catch up.
"Be..."
He walked on, past the few people in attendance and their murmurs, past the crypts, the tombstones and the crosses jutting out from the loam.
"Be..."
He paid no heed to the breathless calls of the child who was not his. He felt no contempt for her. He felt nothing for her.
"Ben..! W-Wait, please!"
Ben Solo clenched his fists and walked on.