Rating: K plus

Genre: Tragedy

Summary: Love can conquer any heart, even those sunk to the depths of Darkness. And when it is ripped away...then comes the pain.

Warning: Spoilers for Last Jedi.


New Supreme Leader Kylo Ren strode out of the throne room, an intimidated Hux behind him. His breathing was quick and panicked - he had felt the ship shudder as it was ripped in half by the Resistance cruiser. Worry clouded his mind as he got closer and closer to his destination. If that one person had survived...please, please...

He increased his pace until he was practically running. They turned a corner and an awful scene played out before him - twisted, glowing metal, all radiating out from a central point. An explosion happened here, and the Force reeked of death. One death, in particular, tugged at him, making him almost physically sick with grief. No, no, it can't be true...

A medicrew was setting up shop nearby. Recovered bodies, both alive and dead, lined the spaces of undamaged floor, trained professionals moving among them, recording times of death. Kylo marched up to one of them. "Where is she?"

The doctor didn't have to ask who he meant - rumors of their relationship had reached all ears in the First Order. She lead him solemnly through the ranks of the wounded, dreading their arrival. A body came into sight, clad in silvery armor, helmet missing a piece around the left eye. The hole revealed heavily charred skin, so burnt it was more ash than organic material. The Supreme Leader rushed to the ever-so-slightly feminine figure, lifting the headpiece off. The face underneath was no model, but it was beautiful in its own right - soft, colorless lips below a slightly slanting nose, a small scar on her right jawbone the only asymmetry.

Captain Phasma.

Ben Solo's soulmate.


I dole out feels with no regards to race, sex, or gender identity. However, by the nature of my feels, I must regard fandom. Enjoy your shock and grief.