Star Wars Imagines

Imagine || Ben Solo/Kylo Ren

requested by AHolyDonkey

//

Imagine being the only one spared when Ben Solo turns to the Dark and murders all of the younglings.

For the first time in your life, you wished that you weren't Force sensitive.

You had never resented your power. Your mother, for the brief time you knew her, told you that what you had was a gift, and that training with Luke Skywalker was the best way to take advantage of it. You were happy to be sent to train and live the Jedi way at the age of two.

But now, you were a young teenager and hiding in a dark crevice between the ancient walls of a temple. There was only pain surrounding you. All that was heard was the sound of a dozen or more voices crying out, only to be silenced by the strike of a lightsaber.

You knew that whoever it was would find you. You could feel their Force. It travelled around the whole place, searching for life. You felt like a coward as you hid, but even Master Skywalker had vanished. It was just you and the enemy that was fast approaching.

You saw their shadow. You held your breath. However, the light of their weapon vanished, and though the shadow of the hooded cape came a deep and careful voice.

"I won't hurt you," he said.

You felt your stomach lurch into your throat. A soft cry burst out of your lips and you began to sob. Shoulders and hands shaking, teeth chattering, you heard the shuffle of his boots against the floor.

It was Ben Solo. A friend of yours. While he was several years older, he provided only gentle smiles and witty jokes when you needed them most. You thought of his childlike eyes, dots of dark freckles around them. He was so kind, and gentle... how did he do this?

"Come out," Ben Solo said. "And I will spare your life."

"How do I know this is not a trick of yours?" you asked. "That you will not slay me the moment I step into the light?"

He tossed his lightsaber to the side. You jumped at the noise it made. To make it clear that he had no other weapons, he pulled his cape off his shoulders, revealing the long tunic and brown pants every padawan wore.

Ben looked different. His braid was chopped and his hair was hanging free. His eyes were no longer a warm muddy color, but instead were surrounded by red, as if he had rubbed his eyes until they nearly popped.

"You have my word," he said.

You stepped out slowly. He held his head high and waited for your answer. You glanced from him to the bodies of younglings around you. You had a choice: go with him and survive, or die for your fellow padawans.

With a steady voice, you made your decision.