A small humorous chapter and a glimpse of what Ben's Jedi academy days looked like. Luke started teaching him on Crait, and I firmly believe this will continue through Episode IX. That whole scene is very comical, when you think about it; however I don't believe, not for a second, that was the last thing Kylo Ren will see of his former (and future) master. I am a reformed Reylo optimist - Kylo Ren will die, but Ben Solo will survive.
Also in this chapter: Ben is such a nerd.
Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
That, laps'd in time and passion, lets go by
Th' important acting of your dread command?
O, say!
(Father's Ghost.) Do not forget. This visitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
William Shakespeare, Hamlet (Act 3, Scene 4).
The Day of the Empire is approaching. And with this menial Mandalorian campaign, Kylo Ren agrees to make a lavish banquet for his troops and for Coruscantan war aristocracy.
He steers clear of that Mandalorian wine this time. Troops may have it, if they want, but it only proves to him how pathetic First Order is.
It all bores him to no end. Since his return some weeks ago, he's been training obsessively, pushing himself to his breaking point, exhausting himself so he may sleep at night.
But he is restless regardless. The Imperial Day Snoke re-instated apparently stirs the spirits. One spirit in particular – Luke's. After all, it is practically old man's birthday too. He probably feels slightly nostalgic around the date. (And he surely makes dramatic entrances with sudden power outings, electrical insurgences, droids malfunctioning and weapons inactivating inexplicably.)
But as soon as his exhausted body starts shutting down on its own in the early morning, the ghost appears right over his bed.
How quaint.
"Kid", he calls him.
"Go away", he growls back.
"You're slacking off, Ben", Luke persists.
What in all hells is he talking about? He was never a slacker, unless Luke became another version of Snoke in his afterlife – and Kylo Ren knows he didn't. He was his best student by far – meticulous, precise, talented and powerful. He remembers Luke's eyes, mixing awe, mentor's pride, concern and – fear. Ben Solo was light years before any other Force sensitive youth that Luke picked. And above all, Ben Solo had the bitter sort of motivation no one else had.
Ironically enough, Luke's ghost looks exactly like that time the weak Ben was first introduced to Jedi academy. He remembers everything – it's one of his many faults. He remembers the image of a young boy trembling with anxiety, the Force around him vibrating like a beating drum in the rhythm of his own fretful heart.
Cheap trick – to remind him of his own weakness.
This is just ridiculous.
It reminds him too of all the times when the sweetest slumber would come to him in that very last hour before the dawn training session. Dreams of him rescuing a girl – dreams of forest covered in snow, of him rescuing her in the pouring rain – he was incurably romantic when he was in his late teens, with his calligraphy and history books and obsession with the Old Republic. "Wait for me, sweetheart", he whispers in his sleep, embracing the pillow like he would embrace his hypothetical beloved. And then someone (usually Irin) would just barge in and pull him from under his sheets. "Wake up, my Lord", he says, mockingly. (Irin's special talents included total disregard to authority and prophetical visions in the Force, although Kylo Ren highly doubts the boy was capable of controlling his visions at that point – sometimes, Force just makes bad jokes.) If it wasn't Irin, then it would be Luke. Already alert, the Light Side around him swirling annoyingly as he opened the door.
"Come, Ben, it's time".
He was a kind of a nocturnal animal all his life, and Luke was not. He was a solemn, precocious kid, while Luke was a whimsical adult who felt annoyingly at ease with his legacy. Two polar opposites – two natures that couldn't be more far apart from the very start. Force indeed has its own strange and perverted ways.
At least he had some success in dissipating of Luke's easiness later on.
And soon enough, there it is – the appeal on conscience, as preformed by a very unconventional Force ghost:
"Let Rey go".
He is still there, now sitting on his vast marble desk, legs crossed. He found the crumpled piece of paper Rey sent him before the campaign (Kylo Ren placed it under a marble press to straighten its edges up). The ghost is smirking, mixing pity and irony.
Pestering geezer.
"You let Rey go", Kylo Ren growls. "You're the powerful Force ghost now. Corrupt the electric chips on her door. Lead the way. Help her take the saber. Help her finish what you started. Help her half me like Snoke! Help her get a bloody light freighter, a "Supremacy" class ship and the whole lot of my army! I'd let you do it all just so I can have some peace from you, you bloody Jedi… half-wit"!
He stands up and wants to hurl something at his former mentor, but he knows it is in vain. He fired the whole barrage against him on Crait, and in the aftermath he is still here, trolling his waking nights.
…and slurping the goddamn blue milk all over his books and his marble desk, leaving real milk blots– is it possible to kill a Jedi twice? Why can't this family just die peacefully like the rest of the galaxy and stop haunting the living?
But the ghost only smirks at him.
"You sound just like your father".
That is just a very low blow, he feels - low even by Skywalker's standards. The old wound on his abdomen hurts like he is being burned all over again.
He sits on the edge of his bed and stares at the old man.
"Do I?" He speaks in his usual low growl, sadness and guilt making way to helpless rage. "I highly doubt Solo was ever capable of keeping even his own ship to himself, let alone the whole Empire".
He stands up to his feet again, towering the little man.
"Your pathetic Republic is gone and will be no more", he hisses. "Everything you ever strived for is destroyed. The last person remotely capable of restoring the democracy is gone. Resistance is destroyed. And as for your precious apprentice –".
He halts, realizing his words stir the Dark Side to a climax, but continues nevertheless. The wound is practically exploding on him by now.
"Just another few nights with her in my bed, and she'll be turned. Turning her will be the last remaining obstacle and her defenses will fail miserably. They already did. Stay around – see it for yourself".
Sometime ago he would probably compliment himself on his lavish sadism, but now he feels so empty. His gut is burning. Can she hear him? It doesn't matter – the damn fool will convey everything to her.
He scrambles to the untouched Correllian whiskey he knew his personnel left for him. It is generally regarded the liquid has something to do with masculinity and elitism, but now he only needs something to wash away the repugnant taste of his words from his mouth. Water, poison, medicine, alcohol or everything of the above – he doesn't care. The amber liquid burns but it's a welcoming, human sort of smoldering. It even subdues the pain to some extent. He drains the whole glass in one gulp.
He stares into a dark gray wall in front of him. It must be the exhaustion and the constant Skywalker-induced insomnia. This is borderline psychosis.
He speaks out softly.
"I'll die if she leaves", he says and wants to punch the wall in front of him to regain his manhood, but something keeps him in place.
His voice becomes even more sorrowful, but at the same time, he feels strange sort of relief for being able to tell any sentient being this.
"You help her escape, and there is nothing left of me, do you understand, old man?"
"Left of whom – Kylo Ren or Ben Solo?" Luke asks, tongue-in-cheek.
"Enough", he growls and finally lets the rage come in. It's the glass first, hurled with his own hand, coming crashing down through ghost's head. Then it's the decanter, followed by the remaining glasses, the massive desk with the marble top, chairs and his bed. His black robes and books now flap frantically in the air like frightened flock of birds. The room shakes in seismic spasm. But the furnishings and everything else remain floating mid-air.
Of course it was useless – and more than useless – barely a second later, the intercom activates and the jittery voice of a Stormtrooper comes in.
"Supreme Leader, is everything in order?"
Everything is in utter disorder.
"Yes. A glass broke. Go to your post, man", he growls back. The embarrassment sets in.
Whenever he would snap at the Jedi academy, it would end just like this. Things he tried to trash floating like a huge exhibition of his lack of control for all to see. Only now it's his late uncle and him. How appropriate.
Luke seemed annoyingly content, like he unearthed something that was long buried or like he extracted a festering thorn out of a patient's foot.
"You could end it all right now, Luke", he regains something of his detached tone. He even makes that flick of a wrist that signals the First Order dogs to leave him alone in his commanding chair. "Why don't you?"
"I said you were slacking, Ben", Luke says again, letting the things fall down softly.
If only the useless fool would finally exploit his powers for his murder instead of making things float… that would be a welcoming exit from these sleepless nights and this mental castration. Pity Luke didn't finish the job that night in the cabin.
But then the ghost leaves him for some time.
Kylo Ren's nerves are already a wreck by that point, so any prospect of sleep goes right out of the window. He's left alone with the chaos of his thoughts and with the chaos of his room. Again, a nauseating reminder of his Jedi days – he would be left with a broomstick and a bucket of water to clean up the mess he made. No Force use – it was sort of penance for letting the rage in.
It would take a lot more than a bucket and a broomstick to mend the mess I made this time, his insomniac brain murmurs bad, demented jokes.