The Dark Prince of Nothing

by Vengeance-n-Luv

WIP Kylo Ren is the Master of his order, powerful in the ways of the Force, campaigning through the universe to eradicate all those who would stand in his path. But before he became the cold and cruel Enigma with the reputation for destruction and darkness, he was a sad, lonely prince, yearning to stop out of the shadow of his family. This is an origin story.

"I am immune to the Light."

He chanted the words over and over, the synth speaker from his helmet amplifying his voice, the words ringing though his bones and numbing his torrential thoughts.

" .thelight. I am immune to the Light," he murmured. He couldn't recognize his own voice, the words sounded oddly metallic and foreign, which is what he was striving for. He wanted to lose himself in the moment. Darkness snaked out and slowly flooded his mind, coiling out through his entire being. The crepuscule pushed him further down, until he was drowning in a sea of darkness. He felt the harsh Light of the Force dampen and then snuff out. Quiet. Calm. Peace.

He was in pain. Constantly in pain…being torn apart from the inside. The Light was trying to push through the barrier he had created around himself. It would make its way through every now and then, when he thought of his past, when he thought too hard about her.

He was always thinking of her. All the Light needed was a tiny tendril, an insignificant spark, and it would blind him with its power. He was flooded with memories of the beauty and the love that was now forever lost to him. It was so bright. She was so bright. The temptation to get lost in the warmth of her memory was almost too much to bear, and the pain of loss burned him. It was too bright for a creature such as himself.

Kylo Ren pressed the release for his helmet and yanked it off of his head. His eyes were watering from the blinding power of the Force. Raking a hand through his hair, he stalked forward in frustration. One moment, he thought, one moment is all I need. Kylo opened the door to his chambers and set his helmet on the large bed. The room was uniform and cold. Regulation First Order: Black walls, and black flooring, no adornment. He sat on his bed with shaking hands and slowly reached into the neckline of his robe, pulling out a light, silvery chain.

At the end of the chain was a small rectangle, no bigger than his thumb. He caressed it affectionately, gently fingering the engraving. The design was simple, crafted by the hands of a ten-year-old child who was born into poverty, but made with tender care, love and grace forming the crude metal into a lovely work of art. Geometric lines crisscrossed throughout the necklace, and in between the parallels was a secret script, her name and his old name intertwined. He applied a slight amount of pressure and opened the secret panel, the locket opening up to reveal one of his most valued treasures. A small lock of bright, golden hair was secured with a piece of twine. He exhaled slowly as a fat tear rolled down his face and spilled onto the dainty tress of hair. It darkened the color of the lock to a rich wheat color. The Light pushed through and this time he let it consume him.