Pre-note: First, no one in a courtship is related in this universe. Second, this will be a long story, though exactly how long is up in the air. It's a redemption plot and a lot of the hints will be subtle and slow-going. I'm a sucker for symbolism and multiple interpretations.
There will be a mix of in-universe and modern swears (we can all agree that poodoo is too silly a word to be taken seriously), but everything else will stay as close to canon and legends terminology as possible. Give me a note if I slip up and where.

In case this is going unnoticed, this story updates once a week on either a Friday or a Sunday before 12am EST. I am trying to make Friday the regular day, but I'm a college kid and my schoolwork comes first, so Sunday updates should be uncommon but entirely possible.

The M rating is for both sex and violence, though the sex is a while off. Simmer down, folks, this is going onto the slow burner.

1. Bleak Snowfall

His fingers were like iron talons in the scavenger's hair, yanking her down into the cold snow. She'd almost bested him—almost—but he fended her off, throwing her to her knees and ripping the lightsaber he was heir to from her dirty hands. He'd suffered from its blade, a great, gaping gash running across his nose, cutting into his cheek. He could feel his blood running down and, were he more feral a creature, lick it from the corner of his lip. But he restrained, pulling hard at her head until she yelped.

"Bitch," he muttered, "did you think you'd conquer me, girl?"

She stayed silent; her mind no doubt elsewhere with the traitor lying across the split ground. No matter, she did not need to answer now. She'd answer to more than him soon if he could drag her from these dark woods. He was lightheaded from the blood loss, but frenzied with adrenaline. He could last another half hour if he pushed.

Frustrated, he sent out for Snoke, a meek call for help. He had won, and he had the girl, but at the cost of his flesh. His legs would buckle with her weight if he tried to carry her and he knew time was running short—that he could feel in the soles of his boots.

He pressed hard into her mind, knocking her out cleanly before he slumped. His men knew him as an iron pillar wounded or not, but this girl could not see his base of sand. No, there was too much at stake. She needed to fear him, to feel his threat as a constant miasma surrounding her completely. He would not be weak before her.

"You look like you've been to hell and back," were the first words to break him from a failing meditative effort to stay conscious.

Ren glared up at Hux, blood caked in the cracks of his lips, dried and smeared around his nostrils and right eye. He looked worse than hell. "Get me to my ship," he said and stood shakily, brushing away from the troopers who attempted to help. "And don't bump her around too much. I need her clear-headed when she wakes."

"What do you intend to do with the girl?" Hux asked as he quickened his pace to catch up with the swaying Ren. He took note of the hole in his back that cut through from the front of his cloak. A Force-forsaken monster he was, Hux decided. It was a miracle he was even walking.

"Whatever the Supreme Leader commands I do. Snoke wanted her back, not I." If there were any color left in Ren's face, it was gone now; his lips white and eyes pallid. He wouldn't be on his feet much longer.

The gangway proved to be an effort, and the proud Ren struggled to refuse assistance, eventually giving in to two hands on his shoulders, guiding him forward as his mind kept straying into the black void eating at his vision. Hux sighed, as few things changed and Ren still made an incredible effort to prove he was the more stubborn of the two.

First thing in the fresher, he threw up. It was all red, metallic, and cruel. Saliva, stomach acid, and blood dribbled down his chin and the taste almost brought on a second bout of nausea. He'd overstressed his body and was paying in platelets.

"You're an idiot," came the muffled voice from behind the door.

There was the dry heave. He raised his head from the sink with difficulty, grateful Hux couldn't see. "And you're an ass for being late. Are we in hyperspace yet?"

"Yes. We're fifteen minutes to the fleet."

"Alert them that I need a transfusion immediately." His vision hadn't stopped hazing since he'd knocked out the girl. If it were a good day, he had lost no more than a liter.

"Will I have them pry you from the toilet as well?"

"No." He caught his reflection in the mirror, white as a ghost and stained crimson. With as much effort as he could spare, he washed the blood and acid from his face, watching it swirl down the drain with unfocused eyes. He hoped it was a good day.

The medical bay of the Finalizer was enormous and stark white, a change from the gray metal of the ship's interior. The girl was taken to the other side as he was half-ushered, half-carried to a surgical theater. Iodine was swabbed onto the creases of his elbows as his thick cloak was cut away from his skin. The needles bit hard into his veins and the lights above beamed in full blare when the anesthesia hit, pulling him in slow motion to an exhausting sleep.

In the darkness, he recalled the time he fractured his arm as a child, how the bone had punctured his skin and bled. He had been rushed into surgery as his mother hollered at his father for taking his eyes away for one damn second, all the while squeezing hard his uninjured hand. Her touch had been so cold as the shock set deeply in, causing him to shiver. She was in tears. Ben, Ben…

Ren.

Damn that title, damn it and its closeness to the name of the long-dead wide-eyed boy.

Kylo Ren awoke with pain in his teeth and heaviness in his eyes. He held back the bile that rose with the dream, hands bunched in the bedding. Sticky dressing stretched the skin of his nose and his chest was cold, bacta patches taped tightly around the bolt wound. His left arm itched from the catheter still feeding his veins and his shoulder stung so slightly with movement.

It took a moment to focus on Hux's frown. It always had to be him, didn't it? Always Hux at the sidelines of his great fallings. Always Hux when he tripped up or stumbled. Man had a nose that smelled out promotions.

Ren cleared his throat, tongue rough and dry. "Report."

Hux narrowed his eyes; displeased with being ordered

Tough love, Ren thought, I still outrank you.

"The Supreme Leader demands your attendance as soon as physically possible. The girl is being chemically sedated for now, to be awoken upon your command."

"And the base evacuation?"

"At least ten carrier ships did not make it. Numbers are still coming through."

He nodded, settling down. "Do you know how long I was out?"

"Three hours. That blaster bolt was millimeters from nicking your intestines."

"Happy day."

Hux scowled so hard Ren thought the vein across his forehead was in danger of bursting. "You were almost dead because of this newfound obsession."

"I was almost dead because Han Solo kept a crossbow-wielding walking carpet for a best friend."

He deflated. "So you've done it, then."

"Yes. Old news." Ren began to absently pick at the tape on the catheter. "Tell Snoke I'll be up within the hour, later only if they insist I stay to make sure I'm cognizant."

"Noted." He gave a curt nod and turned to leave.

"And Hux?"

"Yes?"

"Did you find Phasma?"

He turned and hid a small smirk. "She's royally furious and still reeks of garbage."

"The whole gang's safe."

"For now, until I rip off Phasma's head and Snoke rips off yours."

He closed his eyes after Hux left, head throbbing, ears and eyes too sensitive to the waking world. They'd lost Starkiller Base, but he'd been strong in the dark side and killed his father. He'd been powerful enough. He'd won.

Then why did he feel so…defeated? A sickness like grief crawled up his abdomen, sinking its claws into his stomach and twisting. It ached a fire in his limbs, the rattling of his teeth calling traitor, traitor. He wasn't the traitor. He'd been loyal, he'd completed his task, he'd followed his master. But he'd betrayed something deep inside, and it pricked his skin.

He had murdered his own father. The man who raised him, who called him son. And though he wanted to cry victory and celebrate his feat, he disgusted himself. Ren was quick to swallow the thick feeling and lock it far away in his atrophied heart. Now was not the time for crippling guilt.

Sitting up, he found his limbs movable but sluggish, as though his bones had been replaced with lead. His head still swam like a thousand fish and leaning over gave him the sensation that he might hurl. Every second said that he should not be approaching Snoke for at least a day, maybe two. But duty called, and duty ignored physical injuries.

A new robe and cloak were laid out beside the bed, along with his still-wet boots and new socks. His belt had a hole through it, but it little mattered—a meeting with the Supreme Leader was not the most formal of affairs. Dressed, he crossed the bay to take a look at the girl.

She was far back in a private room, machines and tubes hooked into her at different junctions. Her face was scrunched in dismay and anger, and she was the furthest painting from peaceful he'd seen in a while. Her knee jerked as he approached, and he could swear a whine curled in the back of her throat. He prodded at her mind tentatively, feeling for the link accidentally forged during her last interrogation.

Waves of emotion washed over him as he followed the line, fear coupled with spite. He felt pity when his knuckle grazed her forehead and recoiled, enraged that she actually pitied him. She should be fearful, hateful, but not pitiful of him. It revolted Ren and his stomach threatened to rebel, forcing him to leave her be.

He had time to straighten her out. He had all the time in the world. With Snoke's guidance, he didn't even need that long. She would become a great apprentice to him, powerful and fortified in the ways of the Force, he would see to it.

Force, he needed to go back to sleep.

Time flowed backwards for Rey. Her shins dug into the cold ice of the forest ground, head aching from where it collided with the tree. The light was fading and her surroundings were blanketed in a blue tint. Her breath was white and foggy, a physical manifestation of her current state of mind. She raised her hand in a frantic plea, calling Luke's saber to her.

But he was there standing over her. He glared down through red-hued eyes; so darkly crimson they seemed to sizzle like hot coals on the snow of his sclera. His open mouth bared sharp, back-pointed teeth like those of a shark, meant to pull and never let go. A beast in a human's skin with a great black mane like a manka cat.

"Monster," she whispered into the softness of the air.

"Like none you've ever known."

He lifted her with the Force, setting her roughly on her feet, Luke's saber in his grip. Its silver hilt was thrust at her, blade sheathed and pointed at her heart.

She took it in shaking hands with fingers too numb to close.

With the fluidity and grace of a raptor, Kylo leaned down, near enough that he no doubt could smell her fear. "Make me proud."

Coat fluttering like wings he vanished from the dream, charcoal-black feathers scattered in his wake. Rey's stomach sunk with her knees as they slammed back into the frozen dirt. The creaking, gnarled trees groaned and she was alone. It was too difficult to stand and she opted to watch red droplets fall between her hands. Confused, she turned to look up into the canopy, choking on her heart as it struggled to clamber out of her throat at the sight.

Bodies swung from branches high above, still fresh, still bleeding. The legs of one kicked—a small boy—and a voice strangled with blood screamed. Hands brittle as ice, Rey scrambled into the trees, using the Force to aid her grip. She'd left Finn in the snow; she would not abandon another who needed her help. The trees were icy and her feet slid as she ran down a thick, twisting snake of a branch. Her mouth was too frostbitten and numb to call to him, to reassure him.

Just a few seconds more, hold on, hold on…

Grabbing the boy's arm to lift him, she tried painfully to cut the rope with the lightsaber, its metal burning her palm. Slicing through, the branch collapsed, sending her and the small boy plummeting to the ground. Helpless, Rey roared at the Force to break their fall—and it listened, if only a little. She felt one of her ribs snap on impact, ice-white pain radiating like a poison through her chest. The rope, however, lay far away from the pair, curled and dead by the base of the tree. The boy coughed and curled in on himself. He was safe.

She had saved one, at least.

He sat up, weakly brushing powder from his dark curls. His nose had broken, the bridge crooked, blood steadily streaming across his lips and down his chin. But his eyes were alive with wonder, brown and green and full like stars.

In her room on the Finalizer, a sedated Rey whimpered, tears falling from her unopened eyes.

Ren was out of breath by the time he got to the hallway before Snoke's chamber. The little energy he'd retained was whipping away, causing a horrible bout of dizziness to nestle into his temples. Which were, of course, throbbing worse than a bee sting. Kriffing Sith hells, he was a minute away from turning around and sleeping this all off. Aside from feeling sick, he was more likely to say something really stupid to Snoke, a slip-up that occurred with impeccable frequency when he was emotional, injured, or excited. A little of all three today was not an enviable hand of cards.

He bowed before the empty throne, shivering slightly at the coldness of the chamber. With tremendous effort, Ren raised his mental shields and coiled his body in preparation for the assault. Snoke was not happy—that much he could hear clearly through the murmuring of the Force.

The meters-tall hologram of the Supreme Leader snapped into existence, ominously casting blue light around the chamber walls.

Ren ducked his head harder against his chest. "Master."

"You have news for me, Kylo." Voice flat as always.

A tendril lashed against his mind and he resisted. "I am not without victories, small may they be."

"Some smaller than others. How is the pain?"

"Present." It was Snoke's idea to not allow him recovery in bacta tanks. Pain was his ally, but Force had it been years since he'd been this woozy with injury. "It fuels me."

"We are not Sith, boy. We do not bow to our feelings, something you struggle with greatly."

"Yes, master."

The Supreme Leader eased back on his throne. "Now, what is your news?"

"I fought the girl in the forest on Starkiller Base. She is more powerful in the Force than I originally gauged."

"So much so she almost killed you."

Ren bit his tongue but was unable to hide his growing sneer. "And I still won. Her grip is strong."

"Where is she now?"

"Sedated in the med bay, guarded by troopers."

"She escaped your men before."

"I intend to monitor her personally this time." The words grit like sand against his teeth.

"Then do, and bring her before me when she wakes."

"Understood."

The hologram dissipated and Ren let his muscles relax with a long, groaning sigh. His joints felt locked in position and the act of standing made him sound like a geriatric. He so badly craved sleep that his walk from Snoke's chamber was a blur, his feet following a path from memory as his mind shut down.

His rooms were dark and pristine, unlike how he'd left them days prior. Beyond finished with being conscious, he left a trail of clothing from the closed door to the bed, all but throwing himself on top of the sheets. Sleep was a loving mistress and Kylo Ren plunged into a dreamless void.

In the darkness was a light.

It touched his face with nimble fingers and he was back on the bridge, lightsaber in hand. This time, he dropped the weapon and let it roll to the floor stories below. The father took his son into his arms as the boy cried undignified, clutching at his shoulders. He was no more than a child, scared and trying to hide in the folds of his father's coat.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

I don't know who I've become.

"Nor do I."

Kylo glanced up into a new face, one unfamiliar and warm. The eyes were not his father's and the robes he wore recalled an image of his uncle. A hand brushed tears from his cheek and he looked away in shame, embarrassed by his display in front of the stranger.

"Who are you now?"

His voice faltered. "I don't know."

"Do you know who I am?"

"No."

"Think."

"You're a Jedi."

"Getting warmer. I'll ask again in time." The man smiled, setting his hands on Kylo's shoulders. "We've got a bet running about you." He kissed the top of his head. "Prove me right."

The man flickered into brightness before vanishing. Kylo fell to his knees, once again alone in the murky darkness. "Don't leave me, father," he said in a weak voice, fingers lacing into the holes of the grated floor. "Please don't leave."

A/N: And that's the beginning wrap! The story will contain bits from the EU/Legends, but will try to draw mostly on canon, which will be difficult since only one of the three new movies is out.

It's hard to improve without critique and I welcome all well-formed thoughts and criticisms with open arms. Anything good, anything bad, I want to know so I can make it better. Especially characterization; that's the first thing to throw me out of a story.