"Peace is despaired—
For who can think submission?—war then, war,
Open or understood, must be resolved."
- John Milton, Paradise Lost
The still flesh half of Alec's face twists into a grimace; the metallic half glows with the light of reflected flames.
Ben swells with pride at knowing the source of Alec's disfigurement; he tamps down awe and horror at the flames' cause. Behind him, Bane is watching. Did he see through Ben's illusion as he entered the temple? Did he allow the charade to play out as part of his grand scheme?
There is no time to consider. The Sith Lord's helmet darkens; Ben can see it in Alec's face and feel it through a shift in the Force, before Bane disappears entirely. Though this all occurs in a nanosecond, Alec's eyes are distracted by the change and it gives Ben the space he needs. Using the Force and rotation of his torso, he pushes Alec back, keeping himself between the stunned knights and the bodies of Rey and Malaak behind him.
Rey.
Concentrate, he thinks and inhales. He surveys the room. It is taller and wider than any structure he has ever been in; larger, he suspects, than even the armory hangar of Snoke's old flagship. He stands in its center on stone steps that lead up to the dais, their scarred surface marked by a fresh lightning mark, the scent of ozone and sulfur lingering in the air as wisps of fading smoke. Along the walls rows of statues look on as inert guardians, each at least the height of three men, their precise numbers lost to the farthest reaches as they trail off into inky blackness.
And at Ben's feet stand his brothers.
Ersn and Vadanav are to his right, Vadanav already spinning his vibro-ax, Ersn moving into his preferred form of Makashi as he ignites his saber. Pular is skulking in the background, Twi'lek-crafted daggers in both hands and one in his mouth. And Alec is resetting his stance, still positioned front and center.
Ben has the vantage of two stone steps. He can feel the euphoria of the Dark, hear the thousands of voices calling out, thirsting for carnage and mayhem, screeching from beyond death. The Sith Lords hover as invisible shadows, watching and impatient, eager for a bloody outcome. Even Bane is palpable in the ether, waiting to see how the spectacle will play out.
Time to put on a show, Ben thinks. He relaxes his shoulders and shrugs. The knights charge.
Alec reaches him first, an empty space in the Force due to the increased power of his cloaking, a vicious vision in white as he nears. His saber is a sleek, smooth red, the blade thin and long, the hilt inspired by the elegant yet unusual design of Darth Sidious'. Always about the aesthetics, he is still a lethal fighter, his style an amalgamation of forms he practiced regularly with Ben. He opts for the acrobatic technique of Trispzest, aiming to fly over Ben's head as Vadanav swings his blade from a distance, ax-handle fully extended, giving Ersn the required coverage to take the flank.
Ben registers this all in a moment, his body so attuned to the movements of his brothers, their sparring sessions exhausting but unyielding. He blocks Alec's overhead strike with his saber, his left hand reaching out to hold Vadanav's ax with the Force. Alec lands on the sarcophagus behind him and Ben lets go of Vadanav long enough to pick up Ersn and throw him bodily against Alec, both tumbling to the other side and skidding across the ground.
He blocks Vadanav's ax once more, this time with his saber, as he senses Pular edging closer. The younger man springs off a wall, aiming to land on Ben's shoulders. Ben always felt he had the potential to be the deadliest, despite his slight stature and youth. There is added power to his movements now, a delighted determination. Ben ducks, the upper half of his body rolling back until he is almost horizontal. He snatches an ankle and brings Pular to the floor as he rights himself. Pular flips back onto his feet and retreats in an instant, grinning wildly. They are all enjoying this.
Ben holds his saber out at arm's length, keeping Pular and Vadanav at bay. He jumps up and lands on the sarcophagus now, aware of her breathing and blood, her growing essence seeping into him like an elixir. What is the opposite of drunk? He stands with feet apart either side of her hips, giddy and turning mad with the need to touch her. He kicks Malaak instead, who only grunts.
Ersn and Alec regroup from the other side. Ben sends out lightning, black and glowing, strong enough to splinter the stone underfoot. They leap with feral cries and Ben leaps too, reaching for the other saber on his belt, the green of Luke's blade igniting in his left hand, the hissing red in his right twisting as he shifts into Niman form.
Ersn and Alec coordinate their attack with silent communion through the Force. Ben can barely hear its echo due to their combined talents, parrying both with matching strikes, relying on body language and muscle memory. All three are in a dance they have rehearsed for this performance, beautiful and hateful and exhilarating. We could have been so much more, Ben thinks, catching Ersn's non-dominant arm with a deep slash as Alec tries for an opening.
Ersn emits an audible cry through the Force, projecting his pain with the violence of a weapon. Ben must recoil from the sensation he suddenly feels in his left arm, bandaging the Force around his mind as he stabs his own saber to the floor to send a shockwave through it. Ersn and Alec appear to retreat after losing their footing, while Vadanav and Pular form the rearguard from behind the sarcophagus.
Vadanav's ax spins over his shoulders, seemingly missing Ben only to slash through a column behind him. Pieces of rock begin crumbling down from the impact and the pale knight catches them with the Force, sending some as projectiles towards Ben, while Pular uses the larger as floating stepping stones, climbing to unknown heights. Ersn topples a statue too, aiming for the obsidian altar bearing Rey and Malaak, as Alec sprints up the length of its falling back.
Ben drops both sabers and holds out his hands.
The Force is not his servant but a friend and knows what it must do. It speaks into the spaces between all living things, ripples through the fluid of cells, wraps itself around the inorganic and breathes life into it too.
The knights are rendered immobile. The rocks and statue float uselessly.
Ben feels his brothers struggling against his hold, screaming bloody murder into a soundless void. He does not have much longer until they are free. He rights the statue as Alec somersaults backwards to land on his feet, sends the flying rocks towards Ersn, drops the ones that are holding up Pular and redirects the dagger Pular throws as he falls into Vadanav's remaining flesh and bone leg.
Alec is upon him before he can recall a saber to his hand. Instead Ben steps to the side to dodge the incoming blow and grips Alec by his saber arm and the front of his tunic, his body dropping to the floor and kicking Alec over his head.
Ben only hears the crash as Alec collides with something solid. He springs back onto his feet but the ground is shaking; every statue is vibrating. It is not his doing. The Dark is calling, and Ben is deafened by the noise.
He turns and sees the sarcophagus begin to tremble. Malaak's body rolls off unceremoniously, ending up sprawled halfway down the steps. Rey by comparison remains unmoving, a virginal sacrifice displayed in dusty white. Jagged rocks begin to sprout rapidly from beneath the sarcophagus, sending it shooting up towards the unknown above. How high does it go? What is happening?
"Rey!"
Ben sprints toward the growing tower, hands out and desperately seeking through the Force a way to return her to him. Instead his torso meets a hard-as-rock wall that sends him flying backwards thirty feet.
Sitting up dazedly, he searches for which of his brother knights is the assailant, but there is no human to be found. There is however a wall of actual rock that Ben recognizes as one of the statues from the edges, except now the statue is standing before him, a robed and hooded figure twenty feet in height with glowing yellow fire for eyes.
Ben clambers to his feet. "What the—?"
He is struck in the gut again and sails back just as far, this time having sense enough to use the Force to slow his landing. The statue lies between Ben and Rey trapped atop her tower and this placement appears by design. With a giant stone cudgel ready in its hand, the statue tilts its head in an unnervingly sentient gesture, as if signing the words "your move."
Ben searches for its animator. Could Alec have grown this strong? Or another of the knights? But the essence is unfamiliar. To his left a pale blur flies past him and lands against a column, the body sliding down into a heap that is Vadanav. To his right and further away, he can see Alec dodging blows from his own statue opponent; Pular is somersaulting back from his and Ersn is caught in yet another's punishing grip.
If not his brothers, then Bane?
No ghost is visible and no opportunity for further contemplation is granted. Ben's statue closes in quickly with steps that shake the ground. Ben ducks and rolls to the side, missing a swing designed to separate skull from spine. He calls out for his saber and finds Luke's in his palm, managing to slice off the statue's stone club at the tip. It takes a further ungraceful routine of crawling, rolling and flattening his body to get close enough to sever off part of the statue's feet. It topples sideways and, for a fleeting moment at least, Ben thinks victory is his. That is until jagged black mineral shoots from from an arm and the damaged base, like onyx roots that allow the statue to right itself.
Fuck this, Ben thinks, and attaches the saber to his belt. It is time to rely on more ancient magic.
Even at a distance, he can feel the Dark side thick and concentrated within the newly formed black appendages, made of the same substance that sent Rey and the sarcophagus up into the heavens. He skids along the ground, avoiding another blow from the statue's club, and attempts to gain purchase by climbing up its back. The black rock slices the skin of his hands; the Darkness enters him not like a balm but a poison. Something is corrupted here. It nauseates. It feels unnatural. Ben drops back to the ground.
Opting for a different tact, he decides to face the problem head-on. With a wild and reckless yell reminiscent of his father, he charges from the front and Force leaps straight into the arms of the monstrosity.
The statue drops its club and crushes Ben in a bearhug against its stone chest. Ben can feel his bones grind together and hear his joints crack. The Dark is trying to smother him in its embrace so he no longer resists. Instead he draws everything inside him. Everything he can touch and sense. Same as with Plagueis, as with Hosna, as with all the dead. Ben hungers, and the pure unfettered Darkness inside him wakes with an insatiable hunger as well. Give it to me, Ben thinks, even as white spots begin to cloud his vision. Give me everything, he thinks and, at last, the monster does.
It topples to the ground with Ben still attached, the yellow fire of its eyes gone, the black rock reduced to anemic gray. Ben feels its energy spread within him, wrong yet welcome, sickening yet growing in strength. He is certain he could fell every statue in this way; but with a cough to catch his breath, blood black as oil sprays out.
I can take this, he thinks. There is no Darkness within me darker than the one that is my own. He will digest this like every other hurt. He wipes his mouth and looks around. His brothers remain caught in their own battles. Ben uses the chance to get to Rey.
The black rock tower cannot be climbed; he confirms this with further damage to his hands and a shock of poisoned Dark so strong that he loses his hold entirely. He never fully mastered the art of sustained levitation, so he must find another way. Do or do not, he thinks. There is no try. I will find you again.
Turning to survey his surroundings, Ben is punched in the face.
He staggers back but somehow manages to stay upright, expecting to see another statue brought to life; he is met by the living instead.
"Looking for someone?" Alec says, idly twirling his red blade as if strolling on a summer's day.
"How did you…?"
The flesh half of his face forms an arrogant smile. "My gift, dear brother. One cannot kill what it cannot see."
Ben's hand goes to Luke's saber on his belt. "I see you just fine."
"Do you?" Here Alec pauses in his pacing. "Ah but it was not always so. All those days I would kneel at your feet begging to be noticed, yet you were nothing more than the consummate virgin. Luke must've been so proud—before he tried to kill you, that is."
"Did I really break your heart?" Ben will not take such bait. "It is not like you to play the spurned lover."
"But I play a great many things. Just like that witch who shared your bed. Her body was my instrument and her mind—"
"Silence!" Ben roars, and the ground beneath them splinters. "You shall not speak of her."
"If I don't then who will?" Alec says. "The mind can only take so much. I should have broken her completely the first time. I won't make the same mistake again."
Ben ignites his saber. "You won't live to see the dawn."
"Oh, I have missed this." Alec smiles; this time a lover's sigh after a knowing caress. "The rage. The noble tragedy. The poetic sense of self-importance every Skywalker claims like a—"
"What do you want from me?" Ben shouts; Alec's answer is just as loud.
"Everything! You had all that power but lacked any real ambition. Always seeking out a master, whether Skywalker or Snoke. Why did it take you so long to see? The galaxy was ours for the taking and I would've showed you how. A match like ours could have shaken the stars."
It may yet, Ben thinks.
Alec begins to circle, and Ben mirrors his steps. The flesh of his brother's face turns hateful and repugnant as the metal half when he speaks. "How come you didn't die?"
"I did."
"Can I still kill you?"
"I don't know."
"You don't have an answer?"
"I came here to kill you."
At this Alec grins. "Finally, we are on the same page."
Ben grips his saber; the seventh form of Juyo springs to his mind. Malignant grace was how he had once read it described. Luke always felt it was too violent and tied to anger, which suited Ben just fine. Both he and Alec take the same stance now.
Alec launches himself at full speed, leaping and flipping to cross the remaining distance between them until, at last, their sabers meet. Red clashes against green in a symphony of light and buzzing sound. Despite the form's erratic style, each strike is parried and matched, torsos angling and legs dancing in perfect complement, every action being answered by its equal and deadly reaction.
The speed with which they fight is like nothing Ben has encountered before. His oldest friend and most brutal sparring partner, Alec is one of the best warriors he has known—and without question the most ruthless. All is on display, and it takes the coordination of every molecule, every fraction of Ben's concentration to maintain his ground.
They are working towards the towering mass of black rock and Ben takes the opportunity to switch their positions, using the superior length and reach of his blade to drive forward until Alec is forced against it. Ben waits for the Dark poison to begin weakening the other man but his hesitation is his undoing; Alec takes locks their blades and slips out, ducking beneath Ben's reach before planting a Force-powered kick to his chest.
"Cloaking, brother," Alec reminds him, and he charges as Ben lies prone. There is barely time to reach for Luke's saber to block what would have been a killing blow. They each use a free hand to push against each other with the Force, but neither can prevail. Ben uses the distraction to sideswipe Alec's feet and scrambles to his own. He lands a glancing blow across his brother's shoulder; Alec responds with a late block and another punch to the face.
They stare at each other, panting. Black blood drips from Ben's lips, and there is iron on his tongue. Alec's white tunic is splattered red, and his metallic face is golden. Sabers once again clash in brutal and increasingly uncontrolled strikes, the impact of each driving them apart, their countenances burning with a demented fervor.
This is Vaapad, Ben thinks, the pleasure of the fight by absorption of an opponent's fury. They are an unending loop of rage feeding off each other like the serpent that swallowed its own tail.
The Dark is gnawing from inside Ben, not the peaceful one he knows but a caustic erosion that seeks to destroy. He thinks of Rey and what was done and what cannot be repaired; all the ways in which he has failed and the ways Alec has been cruel and Ben did not protect her, his wife. I am the failure. Would it not have been better if Luke had killed me?
Yes. Can't you see?
Yellow eyes are reflected in the surface of Alec's metallic mask. What is the Darkness doing? This is not who he is.
But you should see yourself.
"Why must it always choose you?!" Alec cries, each gripping the other's saber wrist until their weapons are forced from their hands. "Why was I not good enough?" Their faces are so now close they could kiss; Alec head-butts Ben instead and brings him to his knees. "You sent me here and I suffered for this gift. But the Dark still loves you."
"It is not love," Ben says, black liquid pouring from his nose and mouth. "You have never known what love is."
"Yes, I did! And that was taken from me too!"
"So you took my wife?"
"I took what I wanted, what you always take for granted and waste. Such power and yet at her most base she is still just a scared little girl."
"What did you do to her?!" All Ben can see is yellow now. He rises to his feet with black marrow in his bones.
"I learned from the only child and did just as you taught me, brother; I broke your favorite toy." Alec is still smiling even as Ben crushes the bones in his wrist. "I had her as you wish you could."
"You will die for what you did." Ben's voice is a grating sound, deep and distorted as if still cast through his mask. "I will make you suffer beyond life, all through death; you will know only pain."
"And you will have only regrets."
Alec kicks Ben in the groin as his hands wrap around Alec's throat. Struggling to the ground, they kick and punch where they can, neither gaining purchase yet desperate, the Force an afterthought to the all-consuming hatred that controls them now.
Both reach out for their sabers and it is the Old Republic replica with the cracked kyber crystal that lands in Ben's hand, hilt sticky with tar-like congealed blood, the screams of a thousand sins inside him. Old friend, he thinks, rising to stand. Alec lands the first hit but his rage is stronger; he strikes and he strikes until Alec lies at his feet, guard arm slashed open, face a split mask of red pulp and metal smeared with blood. Ben could land the killing blow. End the torture and betrayal, the pain and insidious poison of failure that felled all their dreams. How he has envisioned this moment, vengeance a balm that cannot heal his soul, will not cure her. But let me taste this. Let me rip your heart out, brother. Let me drink of your last breath.
Alec smiles as if victorious, his mouth a bloodied gash of broken teeth. "You have waited for this day."
"You have no idea," Ben says and looks upon his brother. The Dark screams inside for the chance of vengeance. There is no peace; only passion. Through strength to power; through power to victory. Break the chains. Destroy your brother. Kill the one who hurt your love. His death shall set you free.
Babá, you must let go.
Death is not destruction. There is no peace through that door, and who is the more wronged and wounded? This is not the true Darkness. This is Bane's perversion, the twisted vision of the Sith. He accepts what lives inside him, lets the toxic parts dissolve and dilute. He thinks of Rey. Who has wronged him?
Ben sighs. He lowers his saber to his side and steps back. "It is not my place to kill you," he says.
"COWARD!"
There is a flash of white. Ben feels a sharp and sudden pressure. Pular is braced on his shoulders, a dagger embedded deep into his neck, which snaps off at the hilt.
Pain shoots down Ben's spine, spreading through his neural pathways until he can feel every atom crying out in pain. "Is that … a shikkar?" He can barely get the words out, but he knows this—even if only in the vast recesses of his mind. A Sith weapon meant to be used only once, the glass blade remains inside the victim and leads to a slow and agonizing death.
"I've been saving it for a special occasion," Pular says. He clutches Ben's head and begins to drain the Force out of him. "Don't hold back on me now."
Ben staggers. "As you wish." He lets the poison seep back out as he reaches for Pular's slender arms, dislocating a shoulder as he throws his body off him. Ersn appears before him next, one of his pale eyes ruined, the other clear with violent intent; he greets Ben with a silent saber slash across the chest. Vadanav is also not far behind, limping heavily as he drags his good leg from where Ben stabbed him.
"Kneel," he spits and brings his axe down to meet the bone of Ben's left thigh.
The pain is excruciating but Ben knows it well. "As you wish," he repeats, dropping to his knees. His former knights and once brothers are all gathered around. Except Malaak. Where is Malaak? Ben reaches for him through the Force. You must wake, old friend. Protect Rey—Rey! He shouts the word across time and space.
Why did you come back? Ersn's voice sounds in all their minds. To forgive us? To save our souls?
Ben coughs up pure black blood as he speaks. "Forgive me." He is dying. (He has died before.) He and his brothers, they are all broken and wounded. Rey has left her mark upon them. "I was the one who failed you," he says. The Force holds onto him and beats inside him and he is not afraid. There is so much Light that he can see. A seed that has taken root, it blossoms with every fading heartbeat. Rey, he thinks; he speaks, her name echoing from his oil-stained lips again and again.
"This is pathetic," Pular says, snapping his injured shoulder back into his socket. "Someone put him out of his misery."
"Allow me." Another voice. Ben's good friend steps forward. But his eyes are cold and without recognition; his saber-club glows red between his hands. "My Master wills it."
"Malaak, I'm so glad you're here," Ben says. "It has been so long since we were all together. Promise me that you'll protect her—"
"Oh shut up!" Alec snaps. He Force-pushes Malaak aside, hobbling back to front and center, his ruined face is morphed into a look of utter contempt. "Kylo Ren did not deserve the glory of the Darkness," he says, lifting his saber to point at Ben's throat. "And you are nothing more than a slave to the Light."
"I will be her slave forever," Ben says, and he tilts his head back with a gentle smile.
Alec swings his saber back, the temple trembles, and a terrifying scream pierces through the air.
A figure descends from the heavens; bare feet smash against stone.
The knights all spring back as the floor veritably undulates from the impact. There is a crater before them, and inside that crater is a woman. She rises to her full height, long brown hair floating around her face, white gown swirling about her thighs in a breeze that does not exist. Her fists are clenched, her teeth are bared, and her eyes are fierce and so very, very alive. The Force is a blinding Light that surrounds her; it leaks from everything, pulsating with the finest movements of her heart and lungs.
She is glorious, Ben thinks. A feral goddess made real. A desert orphan and an empress.
His wife.
"Rey."
She glances back at him then glares at the men who surround them. "You will not lay another finger on him. Ben Solo belongs to me."
At her words, a large crack forms and splits along the ground. She raises her arms towards the tower she has descended from and the black rock begins to shatter; soon the entire structure is crumbling down.
His brothers scatter backwards to avoid the crushing weight. A deep fissure lies between them now; they are hidden beyond a gigantic pile of rubble. Somewhere in this great cavern a dozen Sith Lords also lie in wait and maybe a thousand animated giant statues. He was a fool to come here but he only came for one thing.
"I'm so sorry, Rey."
She stares as he stares and then he is falling, his body finally giving up and slumping to the ground.
Strong arms catch him and lay him down. His head lies pillowed on the soft flesh of her legs and she is looking down at him, tears falling from her eyes to land on his face. "Idiot," she says, and he tries to wipe them away but his hands are smeared with his black blood and he leaves dark marks on her skin. She takes his dirtied hand in hers and keeps it against her cheek.
"Idiot," she says again.
I can die in peace now, he thinks.
"You're not fucking dying. Not again." Her grip is like a vice that tethers him to this world.
"Rey." He must say her name. "Do you remember?"
"Shut up, Ben. Don't ask me."
"Do you?"
"I said…" She leans down, her mouth hovering over her is. "I said shut up." And she makes sure with a kiss.
Inside somewhere the Force spreads through him. Not the bottomless ocean of his Dark but a penetrating Light that chases every shadow and fills up every part.
"I won't let you die," she says.
"I won't die. I can't die."
"You're such a mess."
"But you know I love you, right?"
"I know. And I love you. Now please be quiet."
He closes his eyes as she runs her fingers through his hair, and the tears fall like fresh rain, but maybe they are his tears now.
"I won't leave you," he says.
"I know."
"I'm just so tired."
"I know. I'm making you go to sleep."
Ben smiles. "Revenge at last," he breathes. And when the darkness comes, her hand is still holding his.