Force Destiny

Kylo After Crait

I'll destroy her.

Kylo Ren stormed down the dark corridor of the Finalizer, returning to his private chambers after their failure – his failure – to decimate the Resistance on Crait. Five hundred and seventy-two more steps until he reached the refuge of the small space in the galaxy that was truly his. He could finally be alone. Ironic, that he held the entire galaxy in his grasp, yet a few walls and a bed were somehow the only part left that felt his own. That sentiment disgusted him, but it was a weakness he could train out of himself easily enough.

As Supreme Leader, he had a choice of any quarters in the ship, of course. The general's quarters were more spacious and centralized in location; he could demand that Hux relinquish them to him, and he would feel no remorse in vacating the old ones. There were far more significant disputes, however, to engage in with his general. It had nothing to do with his sentiment; it was practical. His quarters suited him fine and provided him an advantage. Hidden away, they added an extra obstacle to Hux's constant tabs on him. Four hundred and two more steps – closer to his place to shut out the galaxy and farther from his failures on Crait.

At first, he had been consumed with short-sighted, foolish despair when she had shut him out. Then his father's dice had disappeared, reminding him that he was alone again. No, not again; he had always been alone. It should have been painful, but all he felt was... relief. As the light inside him flickered out, he was hit with a liberating realization; the light he had felt inside himself had been hers, not his. When she shut out the bond, she had shut out the light.

Kneeling in supplication – and defeat – in that base on Crait and alone in the passenger compartment of his Upsilon-class command shuttle, he had accepted that she was gone. She didn't want him, and he didn't need her. He was better off without her. With the agony of her betrayal and finality of their broken bond, he found the comfort of darkness. The whispers of the darkness – words in his own voice that sounded decidedly too much like his fallen master – reminded him of his path. He had failed, but he hadn't strayed from his purpose. The fate of the galaxy rested on his shoulders. As with every obstacle he had overcome, this loss had to befall him for his destiny to be realized.

His destiny was within his grasp, but the war was far from over. Skywalker's stunt had made him appear weak. The Resistance would undoubtedly seek to rebuild quickly to best exploit his weaknesses, and the First Order was hesitant to accept him as their leader after his failure, but he would prove his worthiness to them all. Crait had only pushed him to become stronger, shaping him in his grandfather's image. He would destroy her. The Resistance had been in his grasp, but she had helped them all escape—in Han Solo's ship, no less. She had shut him out as if he had wronged her; as if betraying him and leaving him for dead, after he spared her life, wasn't enough. Snoke was wrong. Killing her wouldn't complete his path to the dark side. No, he should thank her. What she did for him was far greater. If Skywalker started him on this path that fateful night, then she finished it in the throne room.

I offered her everything, still, she betrayed me. Just like Han Solo. And Leia. Skywalker. Snoke. She was wrong. I am alone. No one can stand in my way. No one can take this away... this hatred. I will not stop until I destroy her. All of it. This is my destiny.

The resolution was empowering. Kylo had never felt more certain of anything in his life. The more he contemplated it, the calmer he felt. This conviction was new and... satisfying. He felt, dare he believe it, no conflict. This was the closest he had come to peace in as long as he could remember. There were no voices in his head, no opposing emotions. There was only cold, powerful darkness.

Resolute nothingness.

Kylo hesitated on his course to his quarters as a sharp pain spread through his chest. It was concerning because it was not a physical pain. He sensed profound despair with a bitter aftertaste of failure – a condition he had become well acquainted with throughout his life. It was oppressive and desperate in nature, curious only in its divergence from his current contradictory resolution. His eyes narrowed as he held his breath, waiting... for what, he wasn't certain. A fleeting sensation in the Force passed through his consciousness. The source echoed with eerie, dreadful familiarity. Before he could probe into this disturbance, it disappeared, and the emptiness returned. He continued walking slowly, stubbornly determined to maintain his current emotional state, rather than analyze the possibilities of the abnormal disruption in the Force. As he focused on his emotions, his conviction returned.

"Ren!"

The peaceful feeling was short-lived. It always was. He dropped his head and sighed quietly as annoyance crept up his spine. "General Hux," he acknowledged, without turning to face him. "There are thousands of others to irritate on this ship. Find one willing to tolerate you."

"I warned you, Ren!" the general sputtered, stomping down the corridor toward him. "Luke Skywalker, the most wanted man in the Galaxy, was within our grasp! And you..."

"Skywalker is dead," Kylo sneered, his patience with the other man veil thin. He was all too aware that the edges of his emotional wounds were far more loathingly raw – exposed and fragile – than he was willing to admit. And if anyone could elicit a sharp physical reaction from him, it was his vexing subordinate. He could not afford another embarrassment in front of the First Order; his weakness and instability were all too evident in his lapse of judgment and focus on Crait. If he did not render a strong, intimidating presence, a mutiny would strike at the first drop of blood, the first sign of vulnerability. "I have felt the change in the Force. You should be with your officers celebrating this victory," he continued flatly. "Preferably as far away from me as physically possible."

"Your personal interests have cost the First Order victory. The Resistance escaped. They were cornered. Defeated. Your emotions clouded your better judgment. Again! Your allegiance to the First Order is questionable at – "

"Is it?" Kylo's resolve to maintain a composed, dispassionate front lasted mere seconds. Hux was quite skilled at provoking his reactive nature. Kylo didn't bother turning to face his general, instead, he stared down at his clenched fist, reveling in the quiet choking sounds emanating from behind him.

"Careful, Hux; your assertions could be... misinterpreted as treason. I am your Supreme Leader; be mindful not to forget that." His hand shook as he mercilessly manipulated the Force to constrict tighter around the man's windpipe. Kylo's own breath hissed through gritted teeth as a sadistic thrill pulsed through his veins. When he felt the general's consciousness slipping away, he released him from his grasp. Kylo continued to his quarters – one hundred and thirty-five more steps – in apathetic disinterest, leaving the general in a coughing fit on the floor.

"Careful Ren," Hux whispered between gasps, staring daggers into the Supreme Leader's back as he walked away. Bracing himself on his elbows, he swallowed another cough, his ordinarily immaculately groomed hair falling loosely into his burning eyes. "Snoke is no longer here to protect you."