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There had been a moment, fleeting, brief, where Kylo had thought everything was within his reach. Happiness, stability, an end to the tear in his soul that pulled him in every which direction—it had been there, close enough to touch, and he had craved it like he had craved nothing else in his entire life.
Then the girl had fought him and left, Skywalker had fought him and left, and his mother, too, had fought him and left, ignorant of the weakness in her son that had prevented him from killing her, from ending her life when he should have.
He could have ended the war, he knew. He could have ended everything, but he hadn’t, he couldn’t, and with Snoke’s presence no longer thick in his mind he felt more adrift than ever before, a hollowness filling him where he’d expected the euphoria of freedom, of triumph.
And now you’ll never be free, Kylo thought, his fingers curling against the flat planes of his stomach.
That would have to wait, though, he knew. There was no time to stop and fix this, no time to rest; no time to contemplate the mistake that festered within him as he battled chaos and betrayal at every turn in a desperate attempt to hold the First Order together with hands that he could not seem to stop from shaking. And yet, of all the betrayals, there was one that cut the deepest, one that made his blood simmer with rage and his soul cry out in grief every time he thought about it. His fingers tightened in the fabric of his uniform, and his skin itched, and when he looked into the mirror all he saw staring back was monster traitor Ben Ben Ben until he thought his own self-loathing would choke him alive there on the floor of his own ‘fresher, tucked away in the belly of his temporary flagship.
“This world is your grave,” he told himself flatly, dropping his hands to his side, “and betrayal is now your creed. Live with it.”
He wondered, as he swept out of his still-familiar rooms, if saying it out loud would ever make it hurt less.
They chased the Resistance, of course they did, but in the end Kylo gave the orders to retreat and rebuild. His brashness on Crait had cost the First Order much, his all-consuming desire to see the end of Skywalker turning an all but assured victory into a bitter defeat, and he knew many of the officers loathed him for it, saw in him not a figure who could ensure them victory but instead an unstable child, unfit to lead.
He was sure the good General had a hand in that, but a flame could not be fanned if the embers did not exist in the first place. The officers may not have liked Snoke either, but Snoke had been a strange, obscure, almost omniscient figure to them, and their ignorance and fear of him had kept them firmly in check. Snoke had been power, presence, other, where Kylo was tangible, unstable, human, and Kylo wondered if that was why Snoke had goaded him into removing the mask, to weaken Kylo’s hold over the officers he was supposed to help command, already planning to replace him with someone else once he’d gotten what he wanted.
If that was what Snoke had wanted, it had worked. It was too late to go back to the mask now, too late to retreat behind it as he had years before, but that did not mean he had to let his old Master have the satisfaction of victory in death. He couldn’t be Snoke, didn’t want to be Snoke, so all that remained was to carve out a new image for himself, something that would protect him and ensure the obedience of the military force whose strings had been tossed, tangled and knotted, into his lap.
It was doable, Kylo thought as he braced himself against the table, studying a holographic projection of his new flagship, the Harbinger, smaller than both the Supremacy and the Finalizer—less of a target, but no less efficient or capable of doing what he needed it to do. The Finalizer would be relocated to another position in the fleet to train new 'troopers, and as much as he wanted to send General Hux with it, he knew it was within his best interests to keep the man close where Kylo could keep an eye on him. Hux had shown his hand, after all, and Kylo would be a fool to ignore the cards he had been dealt.
The General would remain, then, alongside Kylo, commanding the Harbinger in his absence, where any acts of rebellion could be snuffed out if need be. A rabid cur on a leash, Kylo thought grimly as he reached up to study the measurements of the chamber that would serve not as a throne room, but as a private meditation chamber, one attached to the quarters he’d requisitioned and designed for himself, large and out of the way of the others, enough to ensure the privacy he knew he would eventually need.
Perhaps others would have found the proximity to the engine rooms and more technical parts of the Harbinger off-putting, but there was a measure of peace to be found within the constant hum of a hyperdrive engine.
His stomach growled, a reminder that he would need to eat soon, a reminder of the medic’s voice in his ear, a miracle, but Kylo ignored it for now as he made the final adjustments. The ship was already mostly built, having been started before open conflict with the Resistance, before Starkiller, and Kylo was sure his orders that this ship would be the new Supreme Leader’s flagship had come as a surprise, seeing as Snoke had deigned to fly on nothing short of a Mega-class Star Dreadnought. That Snoke had thought he could keep such a massive ship a secret forever, even drifting through the Unknown Regions, had been foolish, Kylo saw that now, and he hoped that this would lessen the target the Resistance was no doubt painting on his back.
It was certainly smaller than a Star Dreadnought, he thought as he drew back. Whereas the Supremacy had been a hulking, titanic thing able to host a crew of over two million personnel as well as birth ships of its own from within its creeping hull, the Harbinger was a smaller, sleeker thing, its design harkening back to the old days, more of a battlecruiser than anything. It could host a crew of ten thousand personnel, including companies of elite stormtroopers and officers, and would include room to dock Kylo’s personal shuttle as well as a host of TIE fighters, but it would not be a floating base the way Snoke's flagship had been. Instead, Kylo intended to spread the First Order’s resources more evenly throughout the remaining Resurgent-class Star Destroyers in an attempt to preserve resources.
They had lost too much concentrating their resources on the Supremacy. Millions of lives lost on one ship alone, thousands of other resources destroyed. It was too risky. If they were to have a base, it would be a planet. Kylo was no fool, he knew planets could be destroyed, razed, obliterated, but unless the Resistance had a backup Death Star in their arsenal, it would not be easy. Yes, he thought, closing down the hologram, a planet, perhaps several.
And he knew, with a sudden streak of clarity, just which planet they could use.
At night, alone in the chambers he called his own while he waited for the completion of his new flagship, Kylo entertained thoughts of running away, of abandoning the First Order and living his days on the fringes of space. But his desertion would only bring about a return to the old days of the Republic, and then, he knew, this war would continue. It wouldn’t matter where he ran to, where he hid—history would only repeat itself, and as his body began to betray him in the weeks and months that followed, hurting and swelling and begging for the comfort that had been his before Starkiller, before the girl, he knew he couldn’t allow this cycle to continue. The true war would be fought with the Force, not with technology, and he knew, if he abandoned the Order now, it would only be a matter of time before Organa and the girl managed to destroy it all and find him.
Alone, laying back on his bed, hand absently resting on his abdomen, Kylo closed his eyes. It wasn’t as bad as it could be, he knew. These were the early symptoms, the early discomforts, ones he’d never thought he’d have reason to feel, but for some unknown reason allowed to continue, concealed from everyone, but especially Hux. The girl, too, could not know, though he had yet to see her since the defeat on Crait.
The Harbinger would be completed soon. The Finalizer was serving as the temporary flagship of the First Order for now, much to the dismay of Captain Peavey, who had been disgruntled to learn that he would be expected to relinquish control of the vessel back to General Hux. It had surprised Kylo to feel the man's utter disdain for the General, but it had also been oddly comforting. Peavey’s opinion of Kylo himself may not have been personally favourable, but nor was it disrespectful, and Kylo knew the man was professional enough not to let his contempt for even Hux stand in the way of completing his duties.
Kylo grimaced, unable to sleep for the constant discomfort that now plagued his body, and would continue to do so for the foreseeable future. Peavey would just have to be patient. Kylo would just have to be patient. But as the weeks turned into months, and his days became a never-ending series of delegations and strategies as they struggled to recoup from the devastating loss of the Supremacy and ensure the continuing loyalty of previously allied and conquered systems, he found himself wondering if it would be completed soon enough.
What people tended to forget was that the Jedi had never been limited to simply one planet, and nor had the Sith. The High Jedi Council had been situated on Coruscant for thousands of years, of course, feeding into both their own corruption and the corruption of the Republic, but there had always been other academies, other places of learning. Dantooine, Obroa-skai, Telos, Corellia, Ossus—places touched by the Force where Jedi could learn and thrive, now blackened by ash and war, their hallways empty and their fountains still. The Sith, too, had many places to train. Snoke had told him of the specialized, ancient academies on Dathomir and Iridonia, on Korriban.
Perhaps Korriban would have been Snoke’s choice, but Korriban’s academy had lain empty for centuries, as had many of the ancient tombs dotting its surface, kept company only by the vengeful spirits of the dead Sith. Dantooine, too, had forgotten much of its own past, of the Jedi who had once guarded and shepherded them, to the point where the people had forgotten what it was to take care of themselves. Now, it was little more than a lush world filled with farmers, forests, and expansive plains, the Jedi academy long retaken by nature.
If Dantooine was lush, rich life, and Korriban a desolate wasteland, then Ossus was the child of both. Situated on the Outer Rim, the planet hadn’t contributed anything major to galactic history since the surface had been razed thousands of years ago, turning a once-lush world into a wasteland that had been recovering ever since.
Yet there were secrets here, things the galaxy had allowed itself to forget, and Kylo had felt drawn to the world in a way he couldn’t explain, ever since he’d first read about it in the old Jedi texts that Skywalker had so religiously guarded. The Jedi academy on Ossus had once been a wonder of its time, and if Kylo wanted to rebuild, if he wanted to do what he intended to do, to bring about an end to the chaos, a balance to the Force and the war that waged within his own body, his own mind, then Ossus would have to be where he started. But he couldn’t do it alone, and now, four months after Snoke’s death, after he had allowed the Resistance to hide itself and regroup as the First Order did, after the completion of the Harbinger and the redistribution of First Order resources throughout what remained of their fleet, it was finally time to do what he had been itching to ever since he’d assumed the mantle of Supreme Leader. The Republic sympathizers so far had been content to remain silent, still afraid to show their support openly for the dwindling Resistance, and Kylo knew he had to use this lull to act, to pull them together.
“Set a course for the Adega system, and prepare the Harbinger to receive a contingency of my Knights,” Kylo ordered his new bridge crew as he stared into the vast expanse of space, peripherally aware of the familiar and once-welcome figure standing at his side, of the equally familiar strong scent that made his head spin and his traitorous body still ache with want and loss. “It’s time to rebuild.”
He had never been more grateful for the presence of his Knights in the days that marked their journey to Ossus. The crew of the flagship Harbinger disagreed, finding their collective existence to be eerie, more reminiscent of phantoms than actual people, but for Kylo they were safety, support, family, and he drew comfort and strength from their proximity, the way he knew they did from him, their loyalty the sole thing Kylo could count on simply because they knew each other like no one else. It was why Snoke had sent them away, he knew, having seen in Kylo’s mind the bond they shared, having identified the threat it posed to him.
He wondered, grimly, why Snoke had not simply killed them, or if Snoke had thought he could sway them firmly to his side, but as Kylo felt Savitri Ren’s presence grow closer to him as she neared the bridge, he could not bring himself to regret his dead master’s arrogance.
Once upon a time Ben Solo had pulled six other padawans from the wreckage of Luke Skywalker’s biggest mistake, and they had walked through the fire to become more than the sum of what they had been. Their loyalty to each other was absolute, formed out of necessity and powered by the knowledge of the treachery of others, and in this world where that treachery reigned supreme, they were more valuable to him than anything.
“Supreme Leader,” one of the lieutenants said, her voice firm even though Kylo could feel the fear rolling off her in thick, nauseating waves. His stomach clenched uncomfortably, but Kylo ignored it as best he could. “The Harbinger is in orbit around Ossus, but—” and here the lieutenant broke off, her fear thickening, causing Kylo to turn and focus intently on her “—General Hux has requested a meeting with you before you depart.”
“Has he,” Kylo murmured, voice utterly devoid of inflection. He resisted the urge to bite his lip, even as his stomach gave another lurch. Not now. “And did he tell you what about?”
“No, sir, only that he awaited your presence in the shuttle bay.” To her credit, she remained firm, and Kylo studied her curiously, noting the way fright made her eyes seem smaller, her face more pinched. He recalled instances where Snoke had thrown crew members around like they were nothing, where he himself had—
Kylo exhaled. Another thing he would have to change, on top of everything else.
“You’re dismissed,” he told the lieutenant, who couldn’t quite hide the way the air escaped from between her teeth as she exhaled in sudden relief. Kylo caught her glancing back over at him as she returned to her station, but he was quick to turn his attention towards the door, where Savitri stood like a looming shadow, so silent the bridge staff hadn’t even heard her entry, if the way one of the officers turned and flinched was any indication. Wordlessly, Kylo moved to join his knight, and together they left the bridge, intent on reaching the shuttle bay where the others were doubtless already assembled—and, Kylo now knew, where Hux awaited his presence.
“Kylo?” Savitri asked, her voice characteristically rough even through her mask, as if she could taste smoke still, and Kylo shook his head as his nausea mounted, grateful when she said nothing else. They passed few people in the hallways, but the ones they did were quick to move out of their path, and Kylo found he was pathetically grateful for their compliance as well, even if it largely stemmed out of fear.
He felt a touch at his mind, almost insubstantial, but still welcome, and he and Savitri walked in silence until the ambience of the hanger bay grew louder and louder, the large, open space making true silence wholly impossible. It was there that Hux met them, face pinched but otherwise devoid of any true emotion, which made Kylo’s mouth twitch.
“Supreme Leader,” Hux greeted, the title rolling off his tongue without the mocking disdain that had accompanied it in those first few days when the bruises were still healing and the initial betrayals simmered at the surface level. If Hux felt anything now Kylo didn’t know, having done his best to block out the hatred he was sure Hux felt towards him, the hatred Hux must have felt towards him even back then, when Kylo had thought things better between them, when he’d thought gentle fingers running through his hair and hissed words in the darkness had meant something.
He supposed they had, he thought, feeling as though he was going to bring up the food he hadn’t yet eaten today. They’d meant a plan, wherein you were nothing but a pawn, a means to an end, as you have always been.
Kylo’s expression hardened, and his fingers curled into fists. Not anymore. Not ever again.
“General Hux,” he said, as calmly as he could manage, “is there a reason you’re here?” His eyes shifted to his shuttle, which waited patiently, engines primed for their descent onto the planet below.
“I wish to know why we are here, of all places,” Hux said. “Ossus is a strategically unimportant world, and I can see no benefit of being here—and nor can any of the other officers.”
Savitri shifted slightly, but before she could do anything Kylo cut in with a curt, “then it is a good thing I am not beholden to the other officers, or to you, General.” At his side, Kylo almost missed the way Hux’s gloved hands curled into a fist, covered nails scraping against a leathered palm, and for a moment he almost reached out to uncurl Hux’s fingers like he had so many times before, but the memory of Hux reaching for his blaster while Kylo lay quiet on the floor of Snoke’s throne room stilled his hand and reaffirmed his purpose.
“Ossus may be dead to you, General, but there are secrets here—things we cannot afford to let fall into the wrong hands now.” It was a stretch, really, for Kylo doubted Organa had any idea of the planet’s existence. If she did, the planet was useless to her. The Republic had never cared for the Outer Rim unless it was advantageous to do so, not the way it had back when the planet had been lush and thriving, before Exar Kun ravaged it centuries ago, and so Organa, who had never followed in her brother’s footsteps and who would not have seen any strategic value in the planet when building her precious Resistance, likely had no idea of the planet’s history in regards to the Jedi.
Not in the way Skywalker must have.
“If that is all,” Kylo intoned, but he didn’t wait for Hux to respond before he was sweeping past, Savitri at his heels, and boarding the Upsilon-class shuttle, peripherally aware of the way Tace, another of his knights, materialized seemingly out of nowhere as they all took their seats.
“The others arrived on the planet a few hours ago,” Tace told him as they cleared the hanger bay, leaving the Harbinger, and Hux, behind them. Kylo didn’t know if he felt more relaxed or more tensed, but he loosened his grip on the shuttle’s controls either way. “We should clear the planet’s atmosphere shortly.” He paused, and Kylo knew Tace, knew the silence meant the Vultan man wanted to say something else but was unsure if it would be welcome. The fact that he hesitated at all had Kylo turning to him, and in a voice more exhausted than he’d let anyone hear in months, said, “ask.”
Tace paused, then removed his mask, revealing a smattering of tattoos and the strangely intricate folds and ridges on his head so common to his species, almost mimicking hair. “Are you all right?” he asked, and Kylo could see Savitri removed her own mask from the corner of his eyes, tight black braids preventing a tumble of dark hair from spilling around her shoulders as Kylo knew it could. She was silent, but Kylo could feel the question from her as well, and as they cleared Ossus’ atmosphere, edging closer and closer to the planet’s surface, Kylo could feel his earlier exhaustion spread to every part of his body, aided by the nausea that still lurked beneath the surface, and the sudden pressure from within his own body.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said at last. “You were right. I was a fool to have trusted him, and now—” he closed his eyes. “And now it’s too late.” He opened them again, but he never took his eyes off the controls as he said, softly, “you can sense it.”
Tace looked like he wanted to protest Kylo’s earlier statement, his eyes flicking down from Kylo’s face for a split-second, but the line of his mouth was as grim as the spark in Savitri’s eyes was determined. Kylo spoke the truth, and they all knew it. There was nothing to do but live with this, to seek what answers Ossus could give.
“You don’t have to do it alone,” Savitri said at last in her scratchy voice, reaching out to graze her finger across his wrist as Kylo brought them closer to their destination. On his other side, Tace moved as close as he dared, the only one of the Knights to come even close to Kylo in height, towering above both the seated Kylo and the standing Savitri. “You have us. You’ll always have us.”
Kylo couldn’t help but smile slightly, comforted by her words even as he cast his gaze out over the recovering surface of Ossus and the crumbling remains of what must have once been the great Jedi Temple. You’re as alone as you make yourself, a voice whispered in his head, both familiar and not. Let them in.
“Prepare for landing,” he said, pulling back on the controls. “Everything will be decided here.”
The plan to utilize Ossus hadn’t been a spontaneous one, despite what Hux might have thought. Snoke had always intended to use the planet in some form, and while Kylo didn’t intend to follow in his old Master’s footsteps, not in the way everyone so clearly thought he would, that didn’t mean there hadn’t been any merit in approaching it and seeing if it was capable of serving the purpose Kylo hoped it could. The locals had been wary at first, almost hostile, and Kylo had seen the Knights bracing for a confrontation before they’d managed to come to an agreement.
Now, as he stood in the ruins of the once-great library, he wondered just what it was he’d hoped to find here, nestled in the ruins of an old Jedi fortress world. He had no specific artefact in mind, though he knew there were likely many here, lost during the Great Sith War thousands of years ago, and despite the weight of disapproval he swore he could feel from his memories of both Snoke and Skywalker, he found he didn’t care to look for the relics of an old order, at least not yet. Instead, as he lowered himself to his knees and tried to clear his mind and centre himself amongst a world still teeming with the struggle of life, he found he was searching for something else, though what he did not know, not until he connected to it with a sharp gasp, almost drawing back from the shock of it all.
Its thoughts were indistinct, more impressions than anything, but here, with the Force ebbing gently around them, Kylo could feel it, him, the being he’d cradled within his body all these months, conceived on the eve of Starkiller’s singular triumph, when the flush of a temporary victory had still been high in their cheeks.
A miracle, the medic had said, that the foetus has survived, and Kylo had almost been too shocked to respond, almost too shocked to rip the memory of the diagnosis from the medic’s mind before he’d requested for droids to treat the rest of his injuries, determined to keep the news a secret, though he had not yet understood his own reasoning behind such a decision.
The child was Hux’s, he knew that much, just as he had known, standing in that room with Snoke, with the girl, that as long as Snoke lived neither of them were safe; that as long as Snoke drew breath Kylo and the thing growing inside of him could not. Snoke had used him, as Skywalker had used him, and after the battle, when the girl had offered her hand again, he had seen the gears turning in her mind as well: bring him back, turn him, we need him, we can use him.
And Kylo had sworn then that he would never, everlet someone use him like that again.
He flinched, his connection to the Force momentarily wavering in the face of strong emotions, but instead of rejecting them, as Skywalker and the Jedi had cautioned, or embracing them and letting them rule him, as Snoke had always commanded, Kylo instead just let them simply… be, mingling with the Force until they, too, were swirling around him, the battle between himself and the girl, Rey, playing through until its conclusion, with him left winded on the floor, the feeling of his own empty mind temporarily overwhelming him.
When he’d woken, it’d been because the Force had screamed danger through every core fibre of his being, and in a rush of anger and betrayal, he realized he’d been a fool to ever imagine a happy ending. So he taken upon himself the mantle of Supreme Leader, and swore that never again would he allow himself to be used for the gain of another; never again would he be foolish enough to believe soft words spoken through treacherous lips.
He wouldn’t let this child be used, either.
When he’d first found out, he’d considered getting rid of it—almost had. He wouldn’t be the first, certainly not the last, and he was sure there had been procedures performed on both the Finalizer and the Supremacy to do just that, sure that if he commanded it they wouldn’t deny him, even at this more advanced stage. Something had stopped him, however, and now, as he centred himself, as he let the Force flow through him, past the surface, he found that he drew a measure of comfort from the still-forming mind of the child inside him. It wasn’t the time, he knew, but then again, would there ever be a time? They were in the midst of a war that promised to drag on for years longer, and the right thing to do would be to get rid of the child before the bond grew too strong. Conversely, he thought bitterly, he would need time to recover from a procedure to the remove the child, time he no longer had. He couldn’t afford to be out of commission at this stage of the game, to let his subordinates see him as weak or fallible more than they already had.
He wondered if this was a decision his own mother had had to make when she first felt him, the child she’d never planned on or wanted, and the thought was almost enough to make Kylo want to give it up again, images of a lonely, isolated childhood save for the dark voice whispering in his mind colouring the air around him red before he was able to clear it again.
The galaxy didn’t need another lonely Skywalker boy. The world didn’t need another target.
But he won’t be a Skywalker, Kylo thought then, determination lancing through him, tasting of desperation. And I won’t let anyone target him the way they did me. I will build a better life for him. I will protect him.
Foolish boy, something within him boomed, as if the Force was mocking him, foolish boy, weak boy, to think you can have any of this, but even as the words seemed to echo through his head another, more calming sensation began to fill him, like invisible hands smoothing his hair, touching his face, chasing away the shadows and the shades until only a strange peace remained.
Whatever he decided, he would not allow himself regret it. His body would not become his prison, not again, and with that came an almost euphoric acceptance, as if the final shackles still binding him had at last been released, and in a rush he could almost see the future as it could be, a shining era of peace and balance—the rebuilding of the old Orders not as they were but into something better, into something stable. Surveying it all was himself, and cradled in his arms a faceless boy: his reason, his motivation, his hope.
As if on cue, he felt the baby kick, turn, reminding Kylo that he was there, alive, something to hold onto when it felt as though everything was breaking apart. That he was growing, just as the surface of Ossus was growing, just as Kylo himself was—recovering from the past and looking towards the future.
Kylo exhaled, and when he opened his eyes his Knights were surrounding him, five where there should have been six, the empty spot where Fiach had once stood like an open wound that refused to heal. The Resistance would pay for his death ten times over, Kylo thought with narrowed eyes as he rose to his feet, hand straying at last to rest over his abdomen, where his child—their child too, in a way, he thought, looking at the Knights, knowing they would protect him with everything—rested.
The Knights wouldn’t be able to stay with him, he knew, not for long. He had too few allies and keeping the Knights clustered around him at all times would only ensure his own isolation, and guarantee that someone would try and take him out. No, as much as it hurt, he would have to send them away, to seed them into the other command ships that made up the fleet and trust that they would act as his eyes and ears and hands where he could not be physically present. He could see by the expressions on their faces that they were just as aware of this as he was, and that they weren’t happy to leave him physically alone, but their loyalty and their connection to him would ensure that their support reached him; their actions would be the determinants that would ensure their safety, security, and victory.
He had to trust that they would not fail. The planet had given them the answer they sought, and while Kylo knew the future was not always set in stone, the vision had solidified plans that, until then, had only been tentative. In time, the academy here would grow and flourish once more, aided by the Knights, not a weapon or a base of the Jedi or the Sith but something better, something that had developed and learned, separate from the First Order, from the Republic, from strictly the light and the dark.
“Our work starts here,” he said, feeling oddly at peace with what he knew he had to do as he and the Knights filed out of the Great Library, spreading to different parts of the ruined temple to carry out their tasks. Soon, Kylo knew, they would have to return to the ship, and Kylo would have to share his plans to reinvest precious resources in Ossus, as well as propose a different planet to serve as the First Order’s own base.
It would not be easy, he thought as he stood at the top of the stairs to the ruined Great Library, stroking his fingers across his stomach, something he would soon not be able to disguise from anyone. It would not be easy, but for the first time in years, perhaps decades, Kylo allowed himself to feel that perhaps, one day in the future, they could be safe. Happy. They could live, belong, thrive.
And if he had to raze Organa and her Resistance to the ground to achieve that, he would do it.
Hux's betrayal, in many ways, was worse. If the General regretted it, Kylo didn't know, just as he wasn't sure he could regret the bruises he himself had left shortly thereafter, but he couldn't allow the man that close a second time. Hux craved power above all else, and now that Kylo was no longer a means to an end, he would be a target for Hux, a true rival, and Kylo doubted Hux knowing that he was the father of Kylo's child would change things. Hux would simply adjust, and then Kylo would forever have to worry about the man he'd once almost called lover trying to take his son from him.
It was time to leave his personal entanglements behind, too. His days of being that weak, frightened boy were over, and he couldn’t allow that weakness to destroy him, to crush him. Ben Solo was dead, and so was Snoke and Hux's Kylo Ren, for all that he bore the same name. Hux had his command and Organa had a new Jedi, one better than her son, and he knew that, wherever she was, she would not allow her sentiment for the boy she had failed to get in the way of what she thought she had to do.
It’s time to let the past die, he thought to himself, to his mother, his father, his uncle, his grandfather, Hux, to the ghosts of all the people he’d failed and who had failed him. Their mistakes would not be his, this he swore. Not anymore.
Let the learning begin.