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Six years ago, an eighteen year old princess (who had recently been caught with the ability to use the Force) was sent to a remote island somewhere far away.

Young and without your parents, you were placed in solitude, forced to remain in a single temple for a year. Your trainer was the legendary Luke Skywalker.

Where you went was a secret. While your parents weren't loyal to the First Order at the time, they were not loyal to the Resistance either. But desperate to train the daughter they didn't know what to do with, they sent her far away.

In your solitude, you were taught the ways of the Force by the old man. But he was cold and distant, and as a child, you longed for the soft touch of a friend or a loved one.

Not that you ever were loved by your parents. But as you understood the power inside of you more, the more you longed for things.

Luke had a nephew. He was twenty-three years old, and was the only one allowed near you. As Luke's apprentice, he was ordered to train you when Luke had to be with the younglings on the island.

His name was Ben Solo.

In your foggy memories, you can still see the boy.

He was slightly older than you, but only by five years. bits and pieces of your time with him. Sitting side by side in an empty temple, meditating together. Him bringing you lunch. Him taking you for walks behind the temples. Sitting beside him on a rock, feeling the waves crash against the stone just below your feet.

But the second those familiar brown eyes met yours, a flood of memories came back.

The coldness of the stone floor. Not even the mat you slept on could keep you warm. The feeling of homesickness - not for your parents or sisters, but the homesickness you felt as you waited for the boy.

You remember hearing him walk inside of your room.

He laid down beside you, turned on his side. He was so warm.

It was pitch black in the room.

He smelled like the ocean breeze.

You weren't allowed to see him this late. This was breaking all of the rules.

Jedi weren't supposed to love.

You weren't supposed to make friends.

He placed his warm hand on your cheek and moved closer.

He called you something. It wasn't your name... but it made you feel warm and loved inside.

But then-

You remember your door flying open, the light flooding in. Luke stood there. You and Ben jumped apart.

And you were taken home the next day.

Your parents put you through therapy. Their version of therapy.

The daughter they were making a weapon out of had been reset. She'd been changed into this person that cared for someone.

Therefore, you were whisked away from him in a heartbeat and then taken home, where your parents locked you away in the darkest part of the castle, brought other Force users in to torment you, and slowly but surely took over your mind. You were physically and mentally abused, made into a weapon of their design.

And now you were what you were today. You were a cold blooded, uncaring killer.

The memory of loving the boy on that island had been wiped clean from your memory. But even as a young woman, you knew better than to give them everything that you had.

You'd kept a few small suppressed memories in the back of your mind. They were foggy, they didn't have sound, they were dimly lit. But they were real. They were as real as the pair of warm brown eyes before you.

The warm brown eyes found in the man you were meant to marry.

Ben Solo.

/ / /

A dinner was thrown for the officers of the First Order and your family. Everyone attended - everyone besides your father. In his place was your father's stepbrother. He sat beside your mother and lead the family, speaking on behalf of your father (a man who could not speak coherently, so every word uttered from your uncle's mouth was a complete lie).

He stood and gave a speech over the table full of gold and silver platters.

You were not paying a bit of attention. The words he spoke so loudly faded to a light murmur in the background. Your mind was occupied (something that never happened to you). You were replaying the memories you had rediscovered today again and again in your head.

The saltwater splashing up against your bare feet. The warmth of his hand on your cheek. The flooding of the light that broke into your room, ruining the last good memory you remember having.

A wrinkle of concentration formed between your painted brows as you stared at your blurred reflection on your plate. The Force swirled around you. You felt a similar Force radiating from Ben - Kylo.

"___," your name was said as a throat cleared. You glanced up from your plate and looked around. More than a dozen pair of eyes were on you. Your step-uncle stared at you, his grey eyes flashing a warning that no one else could make sense of. "Did you hear what I said, my dear?"

It was the first mistake you'd made in six years.

"I-I... no. I did not. My apologies." You ducked your head apologetically, and then glanced up at the Commander, who sat beside you, at the foot of the table.

Your uncle, at the other foot of the table, chuckled and held up his goblet. "Ah, wedding jitters!" he said, passing it off as a joke, but deep inside you knew you were going to be beat senseless for your screw up later on. "My dear niece, I was simply inviting you and your betrothed to make a toast to the union of our people."

"Oh. Yes." You stood up - not as gracefully as you would have been - and your fingers grabbed your own goblet clumsily.

Your fiance stood from his seat, his eyes on you, his movements quick and steady.

You glanced at him.

"On behalf of me, my people... and my fiance, Kylo Ren-" you were breathless as you spoke, your eyes wet with tears. "I thank the First Order for their selfless sacrifice. May this wedding be in honor of our leader, Supreme Leader Snoke."

Everyone lifted their glasses.

Your fiance held out a hand to you. You placed yours in his gloved palm, feeling the pressure of his fingers folding in on your much smaller hand. He sank to his seat as you did, and the food was served.

Before forks and knives were picked up, your hand was dropped, and you were left to concentrate on your memories once more.

Another mistake.

In your focus, you were unaware of the cold stares you were receiving from your step-uncle and your sister, Lucielle.

CRIMSON STREAM [KYLO REN X READER] BOOK IWhere stories live. Discover now