Chapter Twenty Seven: Knighted

[ladyofleithian]

In which Ben is knighted.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Notes: Luke's words here are taken a bit from the Star Wars Wiki page about Knighting ceremonies. I thought I'd use it for reference. 

So far, things were already going too well.

Years had passed, but things seemed to already be going to plan perfectly, Snoke thought. He had unfortunately lost the other half of his plan, that being Jaina Skywalker, but nonetheless, he knew that Ben would fulfill his destiny too well. He was always meant to be Vader’s Scion. He was always meant to perfectly encapsulate both the Light Side and the Dark, he was always meant to finish what Vader began.

And the Starkiller’s construction was already underway.

Snoke could only hope that he would have to only use it when it was of utmost necessity. The Starkiller was a powerful weapon, capable of doing what it would, whether it be annihilating fleets or destroying planets. Useful for striking back against their enemies. Snoke had been on the First Death Star, and he had sensed how powerful it was, but also how flawed. How Krennic, the arrogant, unworthy toad, had failed to see that his former friend was working against him. How sentiment had ultimately doomed the Death Star, as well as faith in freedom. Never mind that such things were subjective, personal constructs. Individuality, free will -- they were constructs, not facts.

Not that it stopped Leia Organa and others from believing otherwise.

Snoke was not a soft creature. That was not why he hesitated to use Starkiller Base immediately. It was practicality. Wanton slaughter was not his goal in that regard. But it was the perfect tactical weapon. No matter where it was, it would be able to destroy the Republic fleet in one stroke when it was finally activated.

They had found a planet to mine for crystals. And from there, they could continue to excavate until the planet was ready for harboring the weapon.

There was his other weapon too.

his greatest weapon and the man snoke found, strangely, he cared for

There was Ben.

Ben Solo was already eighteen, and Snoke could not help but feel a sort of awe just at that. Every day he had watched Ben grow older, grow from the helpless small child that he had been to a young man who was just starting to make something for himself.

Snoke wondered, idly, if that was what a parent felt like, or an artist working on a project and watching it come to life. Of course, Ben had a long way to go. He didn’t have the stoicism of Darth Vader, but he had the determination that wove through him like cold iron, and the commitment to a better cause. He had the skill in combat as well.

His skills were blossoming every day, every week, every month, every year. And Snoke could not say that he deserved to be Knighted -- in fact, he deserved something better. Something grander, something greater.

All in good time, of course. Snoke would wait, continuing to cultivate his army, his Order, and of course, his masterpiece.

***

Today was the day, and Ben doubted that he could have felt more nervous if he tried. He had been dreaming of this day, becoming a Knight, when he was still a young Padawan, but he didn't think that it would come right now. He'd done it. He'd faced the Trials, he'd finally gotten it all done…

So why was he so scared? It was supposed to be a joyous time, wasn't it? Everyone was there right now, chatting and joking and mingling, and Ben was standing alone, thinking about what was going to happen next. Already…already, he doubted he could be more scared.

Poe got there, disembarking from his X-Wing with BB-8, his new droid, cheerfully rolling alongside him, and Ben’s heart couldn’t help but lift even as Poe did so. His hair was practically wild even as he pulled the helmet off, shaking his hair free. And his eyes -- well, he looked as if he’d climbed out of one of Yavin’s lakes.

Poe didn’t walk, he practically ran to Ben’s side, and Ben was swept -- despite their height difference -- into an almost rib-crushing embrace. Ben hugged him back, grinning.

Poe buried his head against Ben’s chest, and Ben leaned down, inhaling the scent of Poe against Poe’s shoulder that smelled a lot like X-wing grease and engines.

After a long while, Poe withdrew, and he was practically beaming, the sort of smile that never failed to convey that he thought of Ben as something unbelievably precious. “Hey, Ben.”

“Hey, Poe.” Ben never failed to be caught off-guard by Poe’s show of enthusiasm whenever he showed up after missions.

“I heard about it from your mom. Gotta say, congratulations, Knight Solo!”

“Thanks.” Ben didn't have to entirely force a smile here; despite his fear of what was coming up, there was something about Poe's presence that made it...not as scary, actually.

Poe looked over his robes then, appreciatively. “New robes?”

Ben nodded. They were more ceremonial ones, more for the Knighting Ceremony. They were paler in color, and Ben couldn’t say that they were his taste, he couldn’t say they suited him, but it didn’t matter, not really. Still, the way Poe looked over him...

He couldn’t say that anyone had looked at him in a way that made Ben feel as if his heart had sped up suddenly, or his breath hitched, and both of these things were far from unpleasant. Poe’s eyes were on his face, on the collar of his neck, before Poe’s look of almost awe

and Ben definitely couldn’t say that he had ever been looked at that way either. It simply wasn’t stuff you saw around the Jedi Order every day

was replaced with a smile.

“They suit you,” Poe said, and there was something about that gaze, something about how heavy those eyes were on him, that was enough to make Ben feel almost shy, but not in an uncomfortable way. Not necessarily bad. Just shy, in the sort of way that people probably felt

in one of those sappy romantic holos, maybe. Ben could already feel those eyes on him, gentle, reverent eyes, and kind. The stare lasted long enough for Ben to feel his heart starting to beat in his chest.

“Thanks.” His voice practically came out as a squeak. Smooth, Ben. Very smooth. Gotta give it up for Calrissian-esque verbalizing that good. You gotta give it up for that.

Silence reigned for a long time.

“I better go,” Ben said. “They’re waiting for me.”

Poe beamed. “Good luck, Ben.”

“Thanks.”

The Council chamber seemed enormous even as Ben entered it, and Ben wasn’t even in the everything’s-taller-than-me stage anymore. Around him, the Jedi Masters sat, dressed in their finest robes, Uncle Luke at the front. There was silence before he spoke.

“We are all Jedi. The Force speaks through us.” There was something about the way Uncle Luke spoke that would have been enough to make all go silent and fix their attention on him. “Through our actions, the Force proclaims itself and what is real. Today we are here to acknowledge what the Force has proclaimed. Ben Solo...”

Ben stepped forward. Already, he felt as if his knees had turned to mush, but he couldn’t turn back now. He had done it. He was leaving childhood behind, becoming a good Jedi finally -- it was the sort of thing that was enough to make anyone both excited and nervous. Excited-nervous? That was actually a good word for it.

He stopped in front of Uncle Luke, who brought his still-deactivated lightsaber down on either side of Ben’s shoulders. “By the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, I dub thee Jedi, Knight of the Republic.” Uncle Luke beamed. “Congratulations, Ben.”

Ben swallowed. Already, he felt tears start to form in his eyes.

Then with an ignition of Uncle Luke’s lightsaber, Ben’s Padawan braid fell to the floor just then, and Ben knew, somehow, that it was akin to the beginning of his new life as a Knight and the end of his old life as a Padawan. He was no longer a child. He was now as good as an adult, stepping into this strange and new adult world.

And it hit him, almost like a runaway speeder. He didn't have much of a choice going into adulthood; he was practically being propelled there, sped into there, and there was no way he could ask time just to slam on the brakes.

There was no going back. Even stepping out of the chambers, Padawan braid in hand, Ben had to lean against the wall for support in that knowledge. No going back no going back no going back...

“Hey.” Thomas’ arm around his shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Ben.”

“I’m scared.” And he knew he shouldn’t be. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering...but nobody turned to the Dark Side just because of being scared of their Knighting ceremony, right? They just didn’t, right?

“I know. I know you are. Breathe, Ben. Just breathe.”

Ben took a deep breath. Somehow, even that was grounding. Almost as if it was reminding him of where he was, reminding him to stay calm even though gods knew it was hard. Unfortunately, it reminded him of another detail that Ben didn't want to think about. Dad wasn't there yet. It wasn't like it was a big deal, and yet it didn't feel right; Dad should be there, he should --

“He should be here by now...” Ben was aware of how childish he sounded, and yet he couldn't help it. It wasn't like Dad to be late for things like this. It wasn’t right either. Dad should be in the crowd, Dad should be grinning ridiculously wide in the sort of smile that he saved just for Ben, like Ben was perfect and for a moment, none of his obvious, obvious faults mattered.

“He will, Ben.” Mei placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Besides, you shouldn't worry too much about him. Tonight’s for you, and you alone.”

“Thank you, Master Mei.”

Outside, there were people laughing and chatting and mingling, and Ben couldn't help but smile, but it was a sad one. Dad probably had his reasons for not being there, of course, but the truth was, it wasn't just the Knighting ceremony. Ben was too used to feeling like his parents were just cut out of his life, like someone who was supposed to be in the holo but just didn't show up. He just wished that it didn't have to be that way. You could always have it worse, and yet still, it was painful.

He turned to look at Poe. “There's actually something I want to give you,” he said.

He held out the Padawan braid that Uncle Luke had cut from his head, and he didn't know how Poe would react to it at first. Somehow, it felt as if Ben were offering a piece of himself up, just to Poe, a reminder of the times that they had shared when Ben was a kid. Now that I'm no longer a kid…

“Ben...” Already, Poe sounded amazed, even touched.

“It isn't much,” Ben said, “But I thought that you would like to have it. Just to...” Remember me. Something so small that had a whole slew of memories attached to it.

Poe hugged him again, and there was something about it that made Ben’s heart skip a beat in his chest. The hug lasted long enough, Ben thought, to make him feel almost as if his worries were far away.

Poe drew away eventually, and said, “I’d love it, Ben. Thank you so much. I actually have something for you too.”

It was one of the crystals they'd found while exploring Yavin IV. A silver crystal, one of the rarest, one of the most beautiful out there. And Ben looked at Poe in amazement.

“Poe...”

“I thought you'd like to have it,” Poe said. Just to remember, was the unspoken sentiment. Just so you don't have to leave your memories behind.

Ben grinned at him. “Poe,” he said, “Thank you. Thank you so much...”

It was then that Ben felt it, the Millennium Falcon going through the sky, and he already felt a mix of relief and, strangely enough, hurt. Had Dad really thought that he wasn't that important? That he was unimportant enough to show up –

No, of course not. He wouldn't really think that, would he? It's probably just a misunderstanding...

The Falcon touched down, and Ben couldn’t help but feel a touch of anger in between his relief. Finally, Dad was here, but what had taken him so long? What had kept him? He supposed he should be glad that Dad was even here at all, but it didn’t stop the pang of resentment in him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Han said, even as he stepped out of the Falcon, Chewie at his side. He looked almost as if he had gotten back from a rough job, because of course he was out doing a rough job, Ben thought bitterly, that was what he always did, it wasn’t as if his father --

No. It wasn’t like that at all, was it?

Stang, are Mom and I just that unimportant to you?

It shouldn’t be a big deal. And yet Ben couldn’t stop the writhing snakes of indignance and confusion that seemed to have taken up residence in his insides.

“Hey, Dad,” he said, and he was aware of how colorless it sounded. “Smuggling job?”

“Yeah. Should tell you more about it after.”

“Yeah.” Ben tried to ignore the unpleasant, painful twists in his stomach, the feelings of hurt and indignance that Dad could have shown up that late. It’s nothing personal, not really, is it? I mean, hyperspace routes aren't just quick zips from point A to point B. Sometimes they take a while...

Maybe it was nothing personal. Maybe. And besides, other people had it worse. Thomas probably didn't even have parents who showed up to his Knighting ceremony, and Jimmy’s parents were downright criminals. It didn't stop the twists of anger and humiliation and frustration and indignance in Ben’s stomach. Why do you have to leave so often? I don’t give a flying bantha’s ass, as you say, about how many credits you’re rolling in or how many races you’ve won, and neither does Mom! We just want you.

But he didn't say it out loud. In the Order, you didn't act on your anger or vocalize it. You kept it quiet. And considering some of the stuff that happened when you let it run as wild as Mom and Dad both did

sometimes he felt like that terrified boy hiding in a corner listening to his parents fight

it was probably a good thing that way.

Poe, on the other hand, had no such reservations.

“How could you miss out on your own son’s Knighting ceremony?” Poe said. “For kriff’s sake, Mr. Solo -- ’’

“Really, Poe, it’s okay.” It was best to keep his emotions quiet. The feelings of resentment and abandonment that needed to just be locked away in some internal box with the key thrown away. Dad couldn’t know. Uncle couldn't know. Anger was of the Dark Side; Ben couldn’t get angry. He had to keep it all quiet, keep it watered down.

Nobody could ever know.

***

By the time the Knighting ceremony was over, Han was already angry. Not with Ben – he doubted he ever could be, and besides, Ben hadn't done anything wrong – but with himself, and because anger at yourself could be hard to take sometimes, at Poe.

Damn that kid. Poe was a nice kid, of course, but he didn’t really get it, did he? He doesn’t know what it’s like. He hasn’t had to do half the stuff I had. He was lucky.

Then again, Poe also seemed to adore Ben in a way that wasn’t just friendship, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Han wasn't Force Sensitive, but he knew something was going on when he saw it. He could remember when Ben was fourteen and Poe was seventeen, and the hugs they shared on occasion, and how Ben never seemed to shut up at times about how great Poe was, and things like that. Poe cared about Ben, and Han could admire that, and yet…

Who the hell was Poe to decide what kind of decisions he made?

And just to make it all worse, Luke walked up towards him, ceremonial robes and all, the sort of solemn look on his face that suggested that Han and he needed to have some sort of talk.

Luke sighed. “Han...can I talk to you about something?”

“Go ahead.”

“You really upset Ben.” Oh, wonderful; Luke was going into one of his patented Self-Righteous Guilt Trips again. It was like years prior, when Luke was a brat of a teen who was somehow starting to grow on Han and Han just wanted to bail out so Jabba could get the money Han owed him. He didn't get it then, and though they were much older now, Han felt the same irritation he did back in that hangar on Yavin IV, the irritation where he knew, just plain knew that Luke had zero idea of what he was trying to do and even if he did, he was too caught up in his holier-than-thou bantha poodoo to care.

And unlike at nineteen, Luke already seemed to know his weakness here. Ben. Ben was pretty good, actually, at being his weakness. The moment he was born, he’d been Han’s weakness, the reason he was moving everywhere across the galaxy, taking whatever credits he could even though Luke was taking care of him now and hell, Ben was eighteen at most and didn't need to rely on Han anymore. Luke had found it, zeroed in on it, and it only made Han irrationally hate him more.

“I didn't mean it.”

“I know you didn't. I just think that you seem to care more about how many credits you earn than your own family.”

Why that little –

“Are you kidding me?” Han said. “I'm trying to make sure that they can live well.”

“You don't need to. Leia's a Senator, and Ben's a Jedi; he doesn't really need credits any more than Leia does. What you're doing is only harming them further.”

Han narrowed his eyes. “You’re not our family therapist, Luke, and if I wanted one, I’d damn well go to one!”

Luke’s eyes widened, clearly hurt by Han’s outburst, and Han took a deep breath. Shouldn't have done that. Really shouldn't have done that.

“I'm not trying to lecture you,” Luke said. “I'm trying to help you.”

“Got it. I'm sorry.” Han sighed. “You just have no idea, Luke. What it was like for me, growing up.”

“I have some idea, and I'm sorry.”

“No, you had a home, you had a place to go. I want to make sure Ben at least has that. I want to make sure...” That I'm good enough, was the unspoken end of the sentence. That I've earned their love for me, and that Ben never has to know any sort of pain or disappointment like I did.

Luke’s eyes became gentle then, kind. “Han...you don’t get it, do you? Leia, Ben...they don’t care about how many winnings you get.”

“I’m trying to make sure they can live well.”

“I know. But most of all, they want you. A father, a husband...just as you are. They don't care about the amounts of credits you have, how many races you win. Just you.”

Han sighed. He wished he could believe Luke on this one. Ben -- well, it was clear Ben adored him. Saw him as akin to a god (which, yeah, lots of kids saw their parents that way, but it was still a bit unsettling. Han had a feeling he wouldn't make a good god. “Perfect” was in Luke and Leia’s vocabularies, as was “divine”, but his? Not really. Looks-wise, yes, behavior-wise, no. Plus, he’d have a habit of smiting, say, Goldenrod, or Naris, which probably went against some sort of god code, probably “You can’t just beat the poodoo out of people who tick you off every time no matter how tempting it is”. Han Solo was good at many things, but controlling his temper wasn't one of them). Leia, though? They still loved each other, but things were as rocky as an asteroid field right now, from the stupid stuff that somehow managed to tick them off to the bigger stuff that called to mind the term “the bantha in the room”. “Hope you’re right on that one, kid.”

“They love you,” Luke said. “I know they love you.”

Silence. Then Han spoke, more solemnly, softer, the voice of a man who would do anything – yes, anything – for his family. After all, he wasn't Vader. He would never scare them or hurt them the way that Vader did, because he loved them too much to do that.

“I know.”