For trope_bingo
Jun. 9th, 2019 11:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyofleithianTitle: I Am My Enemy
Summary: The evolution of Snoke’s brainwashing of Ben Solo.
Prompt: Mind Games
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author’s Notes: This may make you squirm. Fair warning.
Title taken from “Water” by Breaking Benjamin.
As far as Ben Solo knew, he had always heard the Voice.
It had been with him since the beginning, a Voice that he couldn’t quite pinpoint the origin of, but which comforted him, in a bizarre way, despite all of that. He could go to the Voice whenever his parents fought about things that Ben couldn’t even begin to understand. There was that.
There was that.
Tonight, his parents were arguing again, his mother shouting at his father about how he always had to leave, somehow. “We don’t need someone who’s rich or perfect; we just need you!” she argued. And Ben wished that he knew magically what to do to make his parents feel better. Anything.
They’re unreliable. the Voice rumbled.
Ben shook his head vigorously.
Can’t he helped, can’t be trusted. They don’t care about you, never have.
The Voice was right, of course. It always was. Ben supposed he must have been Very Very Bad for Mommy and Daddy to think of him like that.
You’re nothing, said the Voice, But not to me. Never to me.
There was that. Ben supposed that he was right. At least the Voice cared about him.
At least he could trust it.
***
He was eight when he was sent away to Uncle Luke.
It should have been a relief, getting away from arguing parents and dark corners of their apartment on Chandrila. Instead, Ben felt more alone than ever.
It was after another student, Arkus, had said Ben was a failure with a lightsaber and should go back to the crèche that Ben had lashed back at him, hitting and kicking and screaming until Uncle Luke pulled them apart. Ben didn’t miss the utter look of loathing on his Uncle’s face, and fear — like there was something terribly wrong with Ben.
Maybe there was. Ben tried to be good, he did. And yet...
“They’re just words, Ben,” Uncle Luke said. “I don’t know why you’re upset over words.”
Ben didn’t know either.
***
It was on the third day that Ben made his first friend, Poe Dameron. Poe at least seemed to like him, even if their age difference suggested more babysitter and charge than two friends.
Poe was kind and caring and really smart. Ben wished he could be that.
You’re not capable of being those things, said the Voice, But you’re of stronger stuff than that. Dare I say it, kindness and compassion are for those who deserve it, and perhaps not even then.
That didn’t sound right. After all, Poe was kind, and he was strong in his own way. Really funny too.
When you’re old enough, you’ll understand, said the Voice. Truly you will. And I will be there to guide you. I will never let you down.
***
Ben got older and made more friends, while not growing into his looks a bit. There was something about his physical features that really was unappealing; his large nose, his large ears. Some of the other kids at the Academy made fun of him for it, and he could tell that Uncle Luke was wondering how he could possibly be related to two very beautiful people. Ben could suppose it was yet another area where he was a failure.
(The exception was his eyes, which, as he got older, Uncle Luke would change his tune to accusing Ben of “batting his eyes” to get people to do what he wanted)
Your Uncle comes from nothing. It really is an insult to have to be...subservient to him, isn’t it?
Ben couldn’t say he disagreed at this point. At this point, the anger was already boiling up, though he kept it carefully locked away. He was not Dark Side. Anger was bad. Anger lead to hate, hate led to suffering. Anger was of the Dark Side, and the Dark Side was bad, and Ben didn’t want to be bad.
Is it that terrible, being Dark?
Was the Voice right? He wondered.
***
It was when Ben was fourteen that he fell in love with Poe Dameron.
Even that was enough to frighten him. Poe was seventeen, his eighteenth birthday in the distance, and he seemed to occupy a different plane of existence altogether. A place that Ben could never reach because he was nothing, except to the Voice.
So he said nothing. Said nothing because he was nothing, and because he didn’t have the nerve.
***
He was nineteen, nearly twenty, and running away, only having said goodbye to Poe, said that they’d see each other again. Someday. He had the blood of six Jedi students on his hands, and somehow it felt like the blood of a thousand more.
He hadn’t wanted to kill them. But they had attacked him, accused him of killing Uncle Luke — and they weren’t wrong. Even if it was in self-defense...
He had good as killed him.
You know where to find me, the Voice said. Ben had been able to glean a name from there. Snoke. Odd name for a voice, but theirs was a galaxy of odd names.
Snoke continued. Meet me in the Unknown Regions. I will complete your training — you and your friends’.
Ben nodded. He needed a teacher. And from there...from there he could find someone to show him his place in all this.
Summary: The evolution of Snoke’s brainwashing of Ben Solo.
Prompt: Mind Games
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author’s Notes: This may make you squirm. Fair warning.
Title taken from “Water” by Breaking Benjamin.
As far as Ben Solo knew, he had always heard the Voice.
It had been with him since the beginning, a Voice that he couldn’t quite pinpoint the origin of, but which comforted him, in a bizarre way, despite all of that. He could go to the Voice whenever his parents fought about things that Ben couldn’t even begin to understand. There was that.
There was that.
Tonight, his parents were arguing again, his mother shouting at his father about how he always had to leave, somehow. “We don’t need someone who’s rich or perfect; we just need you!” she argued. And Ben wished that he knew magically what to do to make his parents feel better. Anything.
They’re unreliable. the Voice rumbled.
Ben shook his head vigorously.
Can’t he helped, can’t be trusted. They don’t care about you, never have.
The Voice was right, of course. It always was. Ben supposed he must have been Very Very Bad for Mommy and Daddy to think of him like that.
You’re nothing, said the Voice, But not to me. Never to me.
There was that. Ben supposed that he was right. At least the Voice cared about him.
At least he could trust it.
***
He was eight when he was sent away to Uncle Luke.
It should have been a relief, getting away from arguing parents and dark corners of their apartment on Chandrila. Instead, Ben felt more alone than ever.
It was after another student, Arkus, had said Ben was a failure with a lightsaber and should go back to the crèche that Ben had lashed back at him, hitting and kicking and screaming until Uncle Luke pulled them apart. Ben didn’t miss the utter look of loathing on his Uncle’s face, and fear — like there was something terribly wrong with Ben.
Maybe there was. Ben tried to be good, he did. And yet...
“They’re just words, Ben,” Uncle Luke said. “I don’t know why you’re upset over words.”
Ben didn’t know either.
***
It was on the third day that Ben made his first friend, Poe Dameron. Poe at least seemed to like him, even if their age difference suggested more babysitter and charge than two friends.
Poe was kind and caring and really smart. Ben wished he could be that.
You’re not capable of being those things, said the Voice, But you’re of stronger stuff than that. Dare I say it, kindness and compassion are for those who deserve it, and perhaps not even then.
That didn’t sound right. After all, Poe was kind, and he was strong in his own way. Really funny too.
When you’re old enough, you’ll understand, said the Voice. Truly you will. And I will be there to guide you. I will never let you down.
***
Ben got older and made more friends, while not growing into his looks a bit. There was something about his physical features that really was unappealing; his large nose, his large ears. Some of the other kids at the Academy made fun of him for it, and he could tell that Uncle Luke was wondering how he could possibly be related to two very beautiful people. Ben could suppose it was yet another area where he was a failure.
(The exception was his eyes, which, as he got older, Uncle Luke would change his tune to accusing Ben of “batting his eyes” to get people to do what he wanted)
Your Uncle comes from nothing. It really is an insult to have to be...subservient to him, isn’t it?
Ben couldn’t say he disagreed at this point. At this point, the anger was already boiling up, though he kept it carefully locked away. He was not Dark Side. Anger was bad. Anger lead to hate, hate led to suffering. Anger was of the Dark Side, and the Dark Side was bad, and Ben didn’t want to be bad.
Is it that terrible, being Dark?
Was the Voice right? He wondered.
***
It was when Ben was fourteen that he fell in love with Poe Dameron.
Even that was enough to frighten him. Poe was seventeen, his eighteenth birthday in the distance, and he seemed to occupy a different plane of existence altogether. A place that Ben could never reach because he was nothing, except to the Voice.
So he said nothing. Said nothing because he was nothing, and because he didn’t have the nerve.
***
He was nineteen, nearly twenty, and running away, only having said goodbye to Poe, said that they’d see each other again. Someday. He had the blood of six Jedi students on his hands, and somehow it felt like the blood of a thousand more.
He hadn’t wanted to kill them. But they had attacked him, accused him of killing Uncle Luke — and they weren’t wrong. Even if it was in self-defense...
He had good as killed him.
You know where to find me, the Voice said. Ben had been able to glean a name from there. Snoke. Odd name for a voice, but theirs was a galaxy of odd names.
Snoke continued. Meet me in the Unknown Regions. I will complete your training — you and your friends’.
Ben nodded. He needed a teacher. And from there...from there he could find someone to show him his place in all this.
