Upon his arrival to Arkanis, Han Solo sat with his Wookiee first mate, Chewbacca; watching as the landscape of the dry, desert planet passed them by through the cockpit windows of the Millennium Falcon. Regardless of his status as King Consort of Chandrila, he always insisted on flying himself to wherever the duties of his political status had to take him. Naturally, Chewie was always there to accompany him. Forever his most faithful and truest friend.

Chewie was all the protection that he needed considering most people knew it wasn't wise to upset a Wookiee in the first place if they insisted on keeping all of their limbs intact.

Han hated politics. Although, in actuality hate wasn't a strong enough word for the level of his disdain of bureaucratic dealings and diplomacy. Too long having lived by the code of a smuggler: trust no one and keep a blaster on your hip. How he had managed to get himself as crowned king in the first place he still couldn't comprehend, but all it took was being bribed into ferrying a Jedi and another force sensitive young man with sandy-blonde hair half-way across the galaxy, leading to the harrowing rescue of one very tenacious Princess.

Amusement washed over him at the memories and a small smirk played across his aging face at the thought of his wife, Leia Organa, reigning Queen and the only one of the two of them of royal blood. Not only was Leia born of the houses Naberrie and Organa, she was also one of two scions, with her twin brother Luke of the most powerful and feared force users of his time, Darth Vader.

Before he was Vader, the man beneath the machine was Anakin Skywalker, Jedi knight of the Old Republic, the Chosen One. Supposed to bring balance to the Force yet manipulated by Emperor Palpatine in his most vulnerable state, he succumbed to darkness, plunging himself and the galaxy to the abyss.

For nineteen years hence, he wielded terror across the galaxy, cursed to live in torment beneath his helmet and respirator that forced oxygen into his damaged lungs. In the end, however, Vader had broken his curse in the most poignant way by saving his son, Luke Skywalker from the Emperor, just the mere mentioning of Vader's name was enough to spread fear to any sentient being that heard it.

He was glad that Leia never pursued force training like Luke had done. To Han, the whole idea of the force was still a bunch of mumbo jumbo. A hokey religion that held together the forces of good and evil in the galaxy the light and the dark. Never bought into it. Never could have really believed it, that is until the birth of their only child, Ben.

Ben Organa-Solo, of Skywalker blood – chosen blood, in fact, his son was one of the reasons why Han was on this forsaken planet to begin with. He was visiting the Supreme Leader Snoke, a man if he could be called as such who had been adamant about gaining power over Chandrila for years for Chandrila had been settled by both Arkanian and Alderaanian settlers. Snoke believed in his right to rule Chandrila as a result. Yet as the young Ben grew and began to develop his powers, Snoke's watchful gaze turned to the boy, unsettling both Leia and Han.

Han was hoping that a treaty could be forged between Snoke's reign in Arkanis and Chandrila to bring an end to the war that raged since the fall of Palpatine's Empire. Then, he had hoped, that Snoke would lose interest in their son's abilities. Although something gave him a feeling of dread low in his stomach. His instincts, warning him that Snoke's interest in Ben, the true heir to the throne and Skywalker bloodline would not be satiated with a simple peace treaty.

Han was snapped out of his thoughts by a low growl from his Wookiee companion, sitting in the co-pilot's seat next to him, alerting him of their arrival to the palace.

"Looks like that's the place over there," Han pointed out as he steered the Falcon towards the landing pad of Snoke's palace. The structure blended in well with the planet's mountainous landscape. Rotundas jutting out of the outcroppings of rock. It reminded him of Jabba's palace come to think of it. Settling down onto the landing pad, Han reminded Chewie, "Remember, no matter what happens, let me do the talking."

Chewie replied back with a series of growls as if to make a snarky remark to his friend.

"Yes, I do. Every time!" Han retorted with lone pointer finger pointed in his companion's direction.

Lowering the exit ramp to the Falcon, Han was greeted by a group of Stormtroopers, fashioned much the same in the garb of the Imperial fighters of old. The small garrison of white armored troops were led at the front by one trooper, taller than the rest, in gleaming chrome plated armor, a staff in hand and a black and red cape draped at her shoulders. Han had met Captain Phasma, previously in the halls of the New Republic. She was second in command of Snoke's Arkanian army – second only to General Armitage Hux.

"Your highness, Lord Solo, so good to see you again. The Supreme Leader is expecting you. Would you please follow me?" greeted Phasma as she promptly turned to lead Han and Chewbacca into the massive fortress. The formal greetings and pleasantries of royal interactions still felt off to Solo even with greater than two decades of practice.

Following the gleaming trooper captain, Han and Chewie were lead into a massive chamber with onyx marbled flooring spanning the entirety of the room. Crimson draperies lining the walls, blocking out all windows and light. The throne sat, directly opposite the entrance, was flanked by guards in red armor, each holding a variety of bladed staffs.

The mere sight of the creature that sat upon the throne sent a chill down Han's spine. He was a thing of what nightmares would be made of. His face was badly scarred with the left side of his face sunken in. If Han were to be completely honest with himself, Snoke resembled that of a shriveled-up potato. Draped around him was a robe spun entirely out of gold linen, his long and spindly fingers gripping the arms of the throne.

"Lord Solo, what do I owe the pleasure of speaking with you today? In person might I add." Snoke's voice was raspy and it sounded like it took every ounce of energy he had just to get the sentence out. His piercing blue gaze, however was probably the most unsettling thing about him.

Han knew that bringing him to the throne room directly was a power play. Meant to show him who the real power here is. Undeterred by the blatant show of hubris, Han finally spoke, "Let's just cut to the chase. You know why I'm here. Our offer on the peace treaty between Arkanis and Chandrila still remains. Our worlds have been at odds long enough, Snoke. I came here in hopes that a compromise could be reached. If not for the galaxy but for the sake of our people."

Snoke considered him for a second before giving a low cackle. Rising up out of his chair, Snoke moved directly up to where Han stood, the train golden robes trailing behind his shuffling gait. As if the sight of Snoke was bad enough from afar, having him in his personal space was worse. The gaping hole in the side of his face much more disturbing up close. The lines and scars across his burned face served to show the man was not above taking what he wanted by force.

"And what good would that do me?" He replied, surmising that Han would offer such a treaty. But it wasn't peace that he wanted. It was power. Pure and absolute.

Han furrowed his eyebrows and shifted slightly on his feet, considering his words carefully before wanting to reply with a sarcastic retort that he always had at the ready; remembering his current status in the galaxy. Things were much easier in his smuggling days when he was able to swindle anyone that he came across as a threat. Being well mannered didn't exactly come with ease to Han. In fact, the mere effort at the moment as killing him.

"Taking worlds by force doesn't necessarily make their leaders want to be loyal allies now does it? If we could settle a treaty between the First Order and Chandrila, our people will no longer need to suffer from the war that has been raging between us. We've been at a stalemate for years. The more this continues, the more our people will continue to suffer," Han implored, hoping that the man could see reason. The Arkanians suffered as much as the Chandrilans did the longer this conflict continued.

Snoke chuckled, though it was hollow almost bemused at the pleas of royalty before him.

"The young Prince seems to think otherwise, does he not? Your futile attempts at making your world prosperous have proven themselves ineffective for years. Perhaps you should consider his opinions on this matter. He is of age to rule yet here you are – always holding him back from his true potential. It's a shame that that mighty Skywalker blood is being wasted as such."

The mentioning of his son was enough to make Han's blood pressure skyrocket, but he stood his ground. He knew that Snoke had been trying to persuade his son for years to join his cause. This time though, Snoke's words were deeply unsettling. Taking a deep breath, he pressed on.

"This is between you, me and Leia. Leave our son out of this."

"Ah, but he is the heir to the throne is he not?"

"As long as my wife and I remain rulers of Chandrila, these are the terms that we have to offer."

Snoke let out a lewd chuckle that sent chills up Han's spine. "We shall see," he said as he slowly turned from his stance in front of him, returning to take his seat upon his throne.

"Defiance. Impudence. Traits of smuggler scum. You have spoken like the true pirate you are, Han Solo," Snoke sneered. "No matter how hard you try to act the role of a royal, you cannot escape your more-humble beginnings. This conversation is over, there will be no treaty, no peace until I have what I seek," Snoke gestured for the no longer welcome pair to leave.

Han opened his mouth to speak yet found that no words would be enough to sway Snoke's decision. Feeling defeated, Han nodded before turning to see himself out of Snoke's chambers, gesturing for Chewie to follow. The only words replaying over in his head were those words of his son. How much had Snoke gotten to him? After all that they'd done to protect him. He knew he had never been the best father to Ben; always having to put his civil duties before family. Han had also always felt that he could never fully connect with Ben due to his abilities in the force. On his way back to Chandrila, Han hoped that he wasn't too late to get through to him.

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The royal palace of Hanna City was warm and bright despite the late evening hours. It was late spring, the as evidenced by the fragrant waft of pollen from the gardens that spanned much of the palace grounds. Ben Solo stood upon his terrace that was connected to his west wing quarters, hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the view of his family's prized rose gardens. The view was always enough to take his breath away. It was his favorite part of the palace grounds, and he could remain there, meditating for hours doing so.

At times he found himself practicing his calligraphy writing while enjoying the spectacular view, hoping to draw inspiration for the poetry he would sometimes write. Lately though, he had other thoughts that plagued his mind; thoughts that even this view he had grown to love so much couldn't divert.

Snoke had been trying to persuade him for years to join his cause with his plans for the First Order, for the galaxy at large. There were many nights where Ben could hear Snoke's voice in his head; coaxing him into leaving his family and embracing his true heritage: many sleepless nights that lead to many days where he would have dark shadows under his eyes.

What hurt more than anything was that his mother and father were hardly around enough to notice, as they were always busy putting their political affairs before him. It had been that way for much of his life. A boy never far from his studies as a young apprentice monarch, to an adolescent learning the ways of the Force as a Jedi Knight, to now as he bided his time before his mother's inevitable retirement announcement.

The isolation had been so encompassing that it was almost comforting, in a sick way, to hear that voice in his head. At times it made him feel less alone, even if he had friends. His faithful Knights of Ren, fellow padawans once, now Jedi knights sworn fealty to serve him. Even amongst the palace servants he lived among many of them he could almost call his friends.

However, there were moments where that voice was completely different. The voice that came to him in his dreams when he was actually able to sleep through the night. It was a much more soothing voice than that of Snoke's, but there was never a face to go with it.

Furrowing his brows, he pushed his thoughts aside as he reached a black, gloved hand up to grasp the red kyber crystal that hung from a delicate chain around his neck. It was the crystal that had belonged to his grandfather, whom had served the Emperor decades prior. It was moments such as this where he felt the only thing that brought him comfort was the relic of his ancestry: moments where he had felt the darkness and light tugging from within him, the deep fissure of conflict. Of what he as the scion of the Skywalker line must do and what his grandfather could not in his youth.

Guide me, grandfather, and I will finish what you started.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a knock on the door of his chambers, before the uninvited company had let himself in. Annoyed at the interruption he clenched his fists at his sides before he turned his head slightly, but never faced his father as he approached.

"Ben."

"I don't recall giving you permission to enter. What do you want?" In truth, it was a question that he didn't really need to ask. He could sense his father's unease before he even entered the room. The meeting with Snoke had not gone well, and he didn't need to sense that from his father either.

Han clenched his jaw as he pondered his next words carefully. It was a touchy subject between him and Ben, and it never generally ended well when the subject was approached. "Ben, we can't keep avoiding this. What lies has Snoke been feeding you?"

Ben kept his stance firm, keeping himself rooted as the words started him. "So, after twenty-three years you finally feel the need to express your concern over my well-being? Or is it over the counsel I keep?" Ben sneered, finally turning so that he was able to face his father.

"Damn it, Ben! You know that's not true."

Frowning, his mouth pressed into a firm line, Ben stared as his father for a moment before finally speaking in a lower voice, "Do I? Tell me, when was the last time you actually told me that you were proud of me – that you loved me? Or better yet, when was the last time that you chose me over Chandrila?"

Han furrowed his brows, putting his hands on his hips as he looked down at his feet. "You know it's not that simple," Han said as he looked back up at his son. "Your mother and I always made sure that you never went without. We've worked tirelessly to build a better galaxy for you," he supplicated trying to get his son to see reason.

"We're done here." Ben snorted, Snoke had said that Han would say as much. They didn't love him. They feared his potential. That's why they hired the best tutors and had him trained as a Jedi. To mold him into something they could control. He turned around with his fists clenched at his sides to walk over to the edge of the terrace.

Han pressed further, not willing to let the conversation die just yet. "Snoke is only using you for your power. Once he gets what he wants he'll crush you. You know that it's true."

The words washed over him and he knew on some level the truth to his father's words but where it should give him pause it only fueled his anger. His frustration. Ben clenched his jaw as he felt the darkness rising up inside of him.

Closing his eyes, he fought the urge to unleash his temper that he was so infamously known for around the palace. He lost track of how many times the staff had needed to replace furniture and repair the walls but those moments were fleeting, never consuming.

He knew what Snoke wanted of him. Knew the test he was going to have to face in this moment. A choice. His face finally showing how truly broken he felt inside.

He could hear Snoke in his mind, twisting, manipulating his father's every word. Now you see young Solo. He has only ever wanted to control you. They fear your power. Fear your potential. The heir to Lord Vader.

Ben struggled against the darkness rising within him, beginning to buckle beneath the weight of it upon his shoulders. "I'm being torn apart. I want to be free of this pain. I know what I have to do, but I don't have the strength to do it. Will you help me?" The darkness was surging around him, but his light was pushing back an internal struggle that was so clear upon his features.

For the first time, it pained Han as he finally realized the sadness behind his son's eyes. "Yes, anything," he said, stepping forward.

You know what you must do, my young apprentice. Snoke's words rang through him. Do what must be done. Succeed where Vader failed.

The darkness pulled him in, embracing, suffocating, swallowing him whole. For Ben, the next few moments seemed to pass by in a blur before his eyes as his anger surged. He let the pain and anger flow through him, fueling the fire of rage in the pit of his gut. Han was so focused on his son's wounded face that he never noticed Ben reaching for his lightsaber that hung from his belt – and ignited the blue blade through Han's chest. The look on his father's face was a look that would forever be burned into Ben's memory.

Stunned by his actions, Ben blinked, withdrawing the blade of the saber from his father. "Thank you."

The act was supposed to have made his internal battle easier, but now it was worse -- much worse than it had ever been, and he suddenly felt like there was a gaping hole inside his chest.

Han reached up with a weak hand and touched his son's cheek, gently wiping away a single tear that fell down Ben's face with his thumb before he fell over the edge of the terrace. Pain. Despair. Acceptance. Forgiveness. Ben felt his father's emotions as his father left him, falling to the ground, a burned hole through his chest.

The deed, ripped through him, a powerful force had knocked the air from his chest, falling to his knees he saw the blade of his lightsaber was now a blazing, crackling crimson. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he coughed, a spatter of blood on the pale marble floor. He wheezed, gasping for breath as he fell forward onto his hands.

He tried to call for his knights but his voice wouldn't come. His lungs burned as they screamed for oxygen. The hilt of his saber grew hot with the change in the blade, he dropped it as it began to singe through his gloved hand, the blade disappeared as it clattered to the ground.

He grasped a hold of the kyber crystal that hung from his neck. It suddenly felt as if a weight had been hanging from it and the chain was beginning to dig into his skin, pulling him under, locking him in darkness. Collapsing and rolling to his back he clawed at his cowl as fear consumed him. He was going to die. He'd done what Snoke had wanted and he was going to crush him, just as his father had foretold.

Faintly he could hear the cries of his mother and uncle in the room as everything faded to black.

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A horrified Leia Organa stood next to her equally fearful brother in the medical wing of the palace as they both watched, from behind the glassed-in interior, the medical droid quickly tend to her son. The cause of his constricted breathing was still unknown, but the droid insisted that the life support of a respirator mask was the only way to keep him alive. With her arms hugging her torso, she closed her eyes to fight back the sudden wave of tears that she felt brewing; she nodded her approval for the droid to proceed.

Too many losses. Her husband gone at the hands of her son. Despite her grief she could not let that turn to anger at her son. She couldn't lose him. It is exactly what Snoke would have wanted. If Ben wouldn't join him, he would have his throne with or without him.

Sensing her dismay, Luke put his arm around his sister's shoulders and drew her into a tight embrace. Leia had always been the kind of woman who, no matter the circumstances, always put on a strong face. But her emotions were plain. Anguish and despair. Yet on the outside she was ever the Queen she was raised to be, ensuring everyone, including herself at times, that she had everything under control.

The dim light of Ben's force signature quickly plunging into darkness, pushing her further and further into her grief. Luke tried to comfort her sending out calming thoughts as he held her to him.

Yet it was Leia who finally broke the silence between them, as she leaned into her brother for support. "I can't believe I was so foolish enough to believe that we could keep him from following Vader's path. That if we fought hard enough against Snoke he wouldn't be suffering right now. He's always been drawn towards the darkness. I just can't shake this feeling now that my son is gone for good."

Luke looked down at his sister. "No. Leia, no one is ever really gone. What happened to Ben – I've only seen this once before. It didn't scare me enough then; not nearly as much as it does now."

Leia furrowed her brows and looked up at her brother. "Luke, what are you talking about? What have you not told me?"

Abashed, Luke bit the inside of his cheek and took a step back from Leia. He rubbed his hands over his face as he paced across the short distance of the room, trying to work up the courage to tell his sister a secret that he had held back for years. At the time, it seemed to have been the right thing to do.

But now...

Luke swallowed before he finally spoke. "Leia, our father was cursed. Anakin Skywalker was created of pure Force to be the chosen one and bring balance, before he gave himself over to the dark side. There was a prophecy as such that explains it that dates back long before Palpatine's reign. But there's a caveat, a curse. If one of the chosen line ever gave into hate and anger that they would live a cursed life of suffering and having to be separated from those that they hold close in their life."

Shocked Leia leaned a hand onto the table in front her, the instruments on it shaking with her latent force ability reacting to her strong emotion. "And you didn't think I should know this? Luke I am as much at risk as you were. We're of his bloodline. You put me and my son in danger."

Luke sighed, having regretted not sharing the information for years. "I know, I know. But since you never trained your abilities I didn't think you would have anything to worry about."

Leia turned to him, her brown eyes fierce and hard. She was angry, of course. Her brother had kept this from her. From Ben. Yet she knew he did not mean them harm in doing so. "But Ben should have known."

Luke nodded in response. "I'm sorry, Leia. I failed him. I failed you both. I thought training him to balance himself would ensure that he'd never have to face that fate. I hadn't counted on how much Snoke had twisted his mind."

Taking all of this in Leia blinked, and stared at her brother in shock: shocked that something so important could have been kept from her for all of these years. Information that would've been enough for her to have sought out the proper help for her son. Maybe if they'd been honest with him from the beginning he would have been able to resist Snoke's influence.

For too long she'd known the Supreme Leader's eyes had fallen upon her boy. For too long she tried to keep him safe by arming him with all the tools to fight against him. The thought that there could have been a way for her to help Ben when he needed her the most, and that this information had been held back from her made her sick to her stomach.

"But..."

Leia finally turned her gaze back to her brother as she listened.

"The prophecy also states that hope for those who do fall under the curse isn't completely lost. The crystal he wore around his neck. It's warm again, a symbol of the curse just like Obi-Wan's crystal was for Vader. It will begin to deteriorate with time, however. If he can learn to love another again and earn her love in return by the curse's time, before the last bit of the crystal crumbles to dust, then the curse will be broken."

Leia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She turned to look at Ben through the glassed-in enclosure as the droid positioned the helmet over Ben's head; completely sealing him in his fate. She stared at her son with a blank expression on her face. All of this information was falling down on her too fast, and all she could think was that if she continued listening that she would eventually feel herself starting to drown. Without looking at her brother, Leia sighed before working up the courage to ask the question she wasn't sure she really wanted to know the answer to.

"And if he doesn't?" She asked, though by the fear in her eyes, she already knew the truth.

Never taking his eyes off his sister, Luke swallowed before saying what could have possibly been the hardest thing he had ever had to admit. "Then the mask will always remain, and he will be consumed by darkness for the remainder of his days."

The words raked through Leia's heart, tearing it to pieces. Leia had finally reached her breaking point. She couldn't hold back the tears any longer as they fell down her cheeks. She couldn't live with herself having to see her son in this much pain. So isolated and closed off to everyone he'd ever cared for. And all of it was due to the fact that she had been ignorant of his need for her. All this time when he had needed her the most and she had failed him – they all failed him.

Without taking her eyes off her son, she reached out to him through the force. Hoping to find one last little bit of light within him to make her have that bit of hope that he could be saved, but she was only met with walls whether the curse had put those up or he did, she did not know. All she knew was that her son. Her little boy was lost to her now.

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In the short days following the activation of the curse once he'd finished convalescing, Ben fled Hanna city, leaving his mother to rule alone in his stead. He couldn't stay in the palace where he'd murdered his father. Couldn't handle how the deed had destroyed him so completely. She would not announce her retirement and stay on as Queen so long as the curse remained or until the end of her life. He'd sent his loyal knights to be her personal guard, to keep her safe while she as well sent many people after him, to care for him while he hid himself away from the world – abhorrent and disgusted by the mask that gave him life.

Poe Dameron, a commander in Chandrila's military and childhood friend of Ben's went with him to give him a friendly face to converse with. Luke went, naturally, to serve as advisor and guide his nephew on a path to break the curse. Many of the staff and personal servants within the royal household volunteered, feeling the pain of their friend's abrupt departure. Yet for all their kindness and friendship Ben remained cold, angry. The more he pushed them away the more they stayed, steadfast in their search to help restore him to the Prince they once knew.

The days eventually bled into years and despair began to grow in his heart, turning him bitter and cruel. To hide from the court of Chandrila and its subjects Ben had taken on a new persona under the name Lord Kylo Ren. For the most part he kept to himself, isolated from the remaining palace staff. Sulking in his chambers and barking orders when he felt deemed necessary. Most of his outbursts were taken out on the furniture and walls, but the chambers that received the brunt of his ruthless fury were his own quarters of the palace's west wing.

However, the only piece of furniture that remained untouched was a small table with a bell jar in the center. Inside the jar, hovering was the red kyber crystal that had become the physical representation of his torment even more so than the black and chrome of his mask.

As the days passed, with the curse in effect, the crystal slowly began to crack: reminding Kylo that each passing day his fate was growing closer to being sealed the moment he drove his lightsaber through his father's heart. And he hated himself for it.

When he'd awoken in the hyperbaric chamber, being measured and fit for the respirator mask that now sat upon his head, Luke had explained everything. The curse, the prophecy, even how it could be broken. He'd already resigned himself to his fate. To live in his own isolation and torment. Even the people his mother had sent him could not give him the comfort he so desperately wanted but so ardently shoved away.

The mask itself, had given him mobility, freedom, but the hyperbaric chamber had come with him to the country palace, set up in his chambers so that he could spend a few hours a day without the helmet, to bathe, to give him some semblance of quiet.

Looking at himself now in the mirror, his body completely covered in black robes, his face concealed by that mask, and the hooded cowl which he occasionally wore around his shoulders. It was a look that was meant to entirely intimidate to push anyone away from him who might seek to know the man beneath it. To instill fear into those who saw him. The funny thing was no one ever saw him outside the palace walls except those few members of his remaining staff. He saw to that personally. His own prison sentence for his crimes.

In the beginning learning the curse could be broken had given him hope. Yet as he grew more reclusive that hope faded to cynicism. He snorted to himself at the memory, pushing away all of those ridiculous thoughts of hope that someone could ever love him like this aside. A hideous masked monster. He looked like a monster.

No. I am a monster, he thought to himself. No one in their right mind would ever look at him and think twice to even consider the option.

For who could ever learn to love a monster?