Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10169369.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Star_Wars_Episode_VII:_The_Force_Awakens_(2015)
  Relationship:
      Luke_Skywalker/Ben_Solo_|_Kylo_Ren, Leia_Organa/Ben_Solo_|_Kylo_Ren/Han
      Solo, Leia_Organa/Ben_Solo_|_Kylo_Ren/Han_Solo/Luke_Skywalker, Leia
      Organa/Ben_Solo_|_Kylo_Ren/Han_Solo/Luke_Skywalker/Rey
  Character:
      Luke_Skywalker, Ben_Solo_|_Kylo_Ren, Leia_Organa, Han_Solo, Rey_(Star
      Wars)
  Additional Tags:
      Mind_Control, Consensual_Incest, non-consensual_incest, Background_Leia
      Organa/Luke_Skywalker/Han_Solo_-_Freeform
  Collections:
      May_The_4th_Be_With_You_Star_Wars_Fanwork_Exchange_2017
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-05-04 Words: 4573
****** The Fall of the House of Vader ******
by ambiguously
Summary
     Luke can't say no to the people he loves. Ben doesn't accept no from
     anyone. Leia has never found a rule she won't break for the right
     reason. Han just wants his family together.
Notes
     For Cerberusia: I believe and hope this is what you wanted. Have a
     happy May the 4th!
Beginnings are hard. Implying there is one point of origin, one moment between
what could have been and what is, implies a sense of control. If he had just.
If she had instead. If they hadn't at all. Then everything would be different
from the now. Reality has a more convoluted sway: perhaps she said and he chose
and they didn't think, and a dust mote settles on the wrong fly's wing.
There is no place to say, 'This is where it began.' There is a girl, born in
freedom and captured in slavery, and she has a child with no father: not dead,
not absent, neither her cruel master or some secret lover. Does it begin with
him, or with her, or with the choice her parents made when they chose the
flight that killed them and orphaned their daughter to her fate? There is no
one beginning.
Nevertheless, it begins with dreams. The boy is a man, and dreams of the death
of his wife, and in denial of that destiny, he burns his own world to the
ground, and he burns, and his dreams are only of fire. But now there are two
children, a new little girl and a new little boy, and they dream of each other.
The girl is raised with power, and responsibility, and she is taught the
importance of freedom for all beings. She dreams of sand, and flight, and
staring up at the desert night. The boy is raised with humility, and the hunger
acquired by every meal containing just enough. He dreams of snow-covered peaks
and cool lakes, and the taste of freedom on his tongue.
He tastes freedom in her mouth the first time they kiss, not on the cheek but
with need sparked by the celebratory wine and a mutual loneliness from having
lost their families on the same day. She never tells him what she tastes, and
later he hopes it's not sand. The man neither of them can get out of their
heads has his own tastes, musky and a little wild, stale caf in his kiss and
the hot shot of salt after. Han doesn't dream the same dreams Luke does,
doesn't share Leia's vision, and as much as the pair need each other like
breathing, they need him to give them a space between to breathe. Each night
together is like a new beginning, for as long as it lasts.
It lasts until Han is frozen and stolen from them, lasts until they find him,
curling around him in relief, lasts until Luke has one last errand to run. He
speaks with ghosts who must have watched, and known, and said nothing as he'd
spent night after night in Leia's arms, buried so deeply inside her that they
were practically one person.
Beginnings are hard. Endings are hell.
===============================================================================
"Uncle Luke is coming to visit, isn't he?" Ben asks his mother. At nine, he has
learned the craft of the politician, but not how to wield the words as deftly
as she does. He makes clumsy strokes, poking at wounds. He knows when he
mentions his uncle, his mother's eyes take on a peculiar shade, like memories
of a storm, before she puts on a fake smile.
"Soon, I'm sure," she says. "He's very busy getting the school together." So
busy he doesn't visit any more. So busy that Father's eyes can't even disguise
their grief with a false smile. There's been another argument, one Ben wasn't
allowed to listen in on. He did, of course. It didn't help. All three spoke in
half-codes and alluded-to memories. His parents always argue after they fight
with his uncle, and they fight with Uncle Luke because he won't come see them.
They miss him. When he was small, Luke lived with them in the little house they
left three planets ago. If it ended with an argument, Ben doesn't remember.
The budding politician he'll never be says, "He loves me. Obviously he will
come visit." The storm crackles with energy then, as Mother worries her lip and
lives in another time, so much unsaid.
===============================================================================
At fourteen, Ben is old enough to understand love and lovers, if only in the
theoretical sense. The storm in his mother's eyes crashes when she is fighting
with her brother, but there's a placid calmness after he has relented and
returned to them, and now Ben knows why.
They don't know he's home. He's supposed to be with friends today. When he felt
the mental touch of Uncle Luke's mind approaching the planet, he made his
excuses to children who don't like him much anyway. He intended to come in and
surprise Luke, impress his uncle with how his powers are growing. Instead, he
is frozen by the door of his parents' room, transfixed by the sounds he
typically tries to ignore from the pair of them.
Luke is in there. He's moaning. It's low. Someone who didn't have an ear
pressed to the wall, pulse racing and stomach churning with complex feeling,
someone else, they would have missed the sound, definitely would not have
caught the thick breath of Ben's father exerting himself. His mother's voice is
louder, more ragged.
He can feel them.
It's not sensation, not touch. Their emotions bend and curl at him, overlaid
with need and rapturous pleasure. He could not be more sure of what is
happening if he were to stand at the foot of their bed. His mother's legs are
spread wide, and her brother's face is between her thighs, his mouth sucking
and licking at her deliciously. His father is nestled behind Luke, and his
prick is slick with oils as he pushes deeper and deeper into the tight heat.
His mother cries out, and Ben feels her climax inside his belly, feels the
quakes as Luke's tongue pushes against her for more. His own prick is hard as
stone in his pants, the way he wakes up in the morning, uncomfortably aware of
his own body. There's damp against his drawers, and that's enough to break his
trance, enough to tear him across the hallway into his own bedroom, shutting
the door as quietly as he can before he strips off his pants and holds himself.
Two doors between, and there is no difference now because his uncle is giving
way to the thick feel of Ben's father inside him, and Ben can feel everything
as he pumps his hand, crying and wanting, silently coming all over himself.
He's felt this before in his dreams. He's awakened with his own hand down his
pajama pants. Nothing has ever been like this.
He stays in his room, coming out hours later, lying that he thought they
weren't home yet, that he'd taken a nap, that he was happy to see Uncle Luke
there. He pulls back from the hug.
"I'm getting too big for that," Ben lies, and he accepts their lies in return.
===============================================================================
He begins his training with his uncle when he turns fifteen. It feels like his
parents have given up on him, feels like they have kicked him out, but when
he's not sulking, he knows this was the best choice. Luke will train him to
control his often-erratic powers, and he could not love Ben more if they were
father and son. Were it not for the clear marks of his father's face on his own
features, Ben would worry more.
The school exists in name only. Other Jedi have emerged like insects crawling
from a decades-dormant sleep underground. They meet in pairs and fours and
sixes, working together for days or weeks before drifting off again, blown far
and wide by other responsibilities. The unit of Jedi is two: the Master and the
Padawan. A rare teacher will take on two students. Everyone wants to spend time
with the legendary Luke Skywalker, picking up Jedi lore at his myth-addled
knee. They come and go, and Ben learns the expressions they make as they set
eyes on his uncle for the first time, awe and hope melting away distrust and
disbelief. He learns the shape of confusion and disappointment returning, as
the new supplicants inevitably draw their gaze aside, and see the dark, awkward
shadow beside him, all limbs and nose and crooked smile and acne he can neither
wash nor wish away. The other one.
But when they part with the others, as they always do, Ben is the one who flies
away with the legend, and there's a jealous pride in that which lights his eyes
as he feels another new student catching their first look at him and judging.
Uncle Luke helps, and hurts, by his warm smiles and his patient lessons. Ben
picks up new tricks at a varied pace, sometimes laser-fast, sometimes stupidly
slow, and his uncle praises him every time he succeeds, and helps him every
time he falters. It should be patronizing.
It's heavenly.
Later, Ben will convince himself Luke must have compelled his mind, using Jedi
power for dark purpose. He will retell the story to himself, tell himself the
same must have happened with his parents. At best, Luke doesn't know he's
drawing the people he loves in too close, and at worst, he knows that's
precisely what he's doing. Ben will create the story, and Kylo will whisper the
words to his new Master.
Much later, in the embers of the ruined conflagration of his life, Kylo will
know it was the other way around. He wanted, and he pushed, and Luke fell.
Now there is nothing but basking under the glow of Luke's sun-drenched smiles
and his encouraging words, leaning like a weed towards the light, the tendrils
of his own clinging need wrapping around the nearest solid wall he can reach.
The beginning is lost in a churning sea of affectionate hugs and intimate
touching of minds. It is mixed with nights spent huddled in the same duratent,
through cold and storms, and waking with the same human needs they can only
give the barest privacy towards with averted eyes and the occasional deafened
ear.
There's a woman, beautiful and brilliant, one of dozens of old friends they
meet during their brief stays. His uncle is attracted to women, to Ben's shame,
and while this one does not flirt more than a friendly smile, the waft of her
scent lingers on Luke's robes after he's hugged her good-bye, and he and Ben
have returned to the small room they are borrowing for the night. There's no
bed, but enough blankets make a soft place to sleep. Ben closes his eyes, and
wakes to Luke beside him wide awake and attempting to be both silent and still.
The blankets are hot, and his nose is full of the light perfume and the scent
of sweat on the shoulder beside his, and he wants. He has wanted since he knew
he could want.
He reaches out, and his hand joins Luke's.
Luke bolts upright instantly, pulling away, the blanket around his waist. His
face is open, scared. "Ben. I shouldn't have, not with you in the room."
There's a moment. Some Jedi can see the shattered directions of the future
cracking out from one point. Luke doesn't have this gift, and normally, neither
does Ben, but right now, he knows he can mumble an embarrassed joke, and roll
over, and this will be forgotten by morning. They'll be tense around each
other, then fall back into their usual pattern, and nothing will have changed.
He will grow under Luke's teaching, and become a Jedi Knight in due course, and
no one will know about the night he made a mistake in thinking Luke would want
him back.
This is the other path.
"It's fine," Ben says, sliding closer. He wants Luke to open his mind, wants
him to see the simple truth of their shared desire. He wants, and he wishes
very hard.
Luke blinks, shaking his head. "It's not fine. It's...."
"It's not any worse than what you've already done with my mother and my
father."
Luke's jaw tightens, and his scent changes, frightened. "Ben, don't think
that."
"You love them, and you love me. Don't be afraid." Later, when he tells himself
that Luke forced the encounter, he will make himself forget how he reaches for
his uncle's chin and brings him in for a clumsy kiss. Much later, he will
remember the spark of resistance he meets when he pushes past Luke's barriers,
remember pushing in with his own mind, until a softness falls over his uncle,
and he allows his mouth to hang open, accepting Ben's curious tongue.
Ben reaches for him again, finding the half-hard flesh just like his own hand
touches on desperate nights. He knows how good it feels to slide his clenched
fingers up and down, to flick a nail at the sensitive foreskin. He kisses and
he strokes, and he's hard under the last of the blanket still covering him.
"Touch me," he says, and Luke's arm jerks out and grasps hold, and it's good,
so good to have someone else touching him this way.
Ben moans into the kisses, his hand stuttering through the work. Quiet. He
ought to be quiet, but he'll be screaming if he doesn't watch himself,
listening in to Luke's thoughts and feeling his own hand rubbing faster on
Luke's prick while Luke squeezes and strokes him.
He's stronger every day, strong enough to tug Luke down to the blanket instead
of huddled against the wall, settling his lanky legs between Luke's thighs as
they keep stroking and jerking each other. There's a dim, shocked look in his
uncle's eyes, and the word in his mouth that Ben kisses away is "No." He
doesn't have time for no. He doesn't have room for anything but the burning
rush through his head, shocking down his body, as he comes in a wet stain on
his uncle's half-open night shirt. He forgets himself for a moment, and he
continues his own work another minute, until he feels Luke's pleasure betray
him, spilling out in a second mess.
Ben kisses him again, learning this new feeling as he rests, mindless of the
stickiness between them.
"We waited too long for that," he says, and he wants Luke to agree, but he
doesn't.
Luke doesn't speak to him for much of the next day. "Work on your meditation,"
is the most Ben can get out of him, and nothing else on any other subject.
They're off on more travels, and in the ship, they each have their own bunk, a
rare luxury. Ben goes to his uncle's quarters that night, but the door is
locked.
"We should talk," he says the next morning, as soon as Luke emerges from his
cabin. "You're avoiding me."
"I need room to think now," Luke says. He hasn't offered up one of his smiles
in days. "I need to figure out what to do with you."
"I have some suggestions," Ben says with a grin. He doesn't miss the quiet
shudder that passes through Luke and vanishes again like smoke. He drops the
grin. "Fine."
"I've set a course for Aleen. Your father will meet us there. You're going home
for a while."
"What? Why?"
"Because I have things I need to do, and it isn't safe to bring you with me."
He closes his eyes. "I have drifted too far into shadow. I would excuse it out
of love, but that's what destroyed your grandfather. You can spend time with
your parents. In the meantime, work on your meditation."
There is no argument. Luke will hear no complaints. He's not angry, which is
the worst thing. Ben can face anger. He can take rebuke. He is happy to be
punished if Luke thinks he should be. But sent home? That's a disgrace.
===============================================================================
Han can't stop the worried smile as he sees his son for the first time in a
year. Luke's unhappy about something, and clearly has been ever since he sent
his message. Han's got hugs for both, and Chewie just about cracks ribs saying
hello, and Luke won't even smile for him.
While Ben takes his stuff aboard the Falcon, Han pulls Luke aside. "What is it?
What's wrong?"
Luke shakes his head. "I'll tell you when I'm ready. I can't now. I'm sorry.
I'll be back for him soon."
"Okay, but you come back for us, too, all right?" Han tries a twinkle, and
since Ben is out of sight, he goes in for a quick kiss. Luke's whole body
tenses, and he tugs away. The twinkle is gone, and Han is all worry now. "Luke,
what happened?"
Luke's eyes are dark. "I will tell you when I can." He does press his lips
against Han's cheek, but it's not the same.
Han watches his ship take off, and he wonders.
===============================================================================
Ben is by turns quiet and surly, which Han fully expects. Teenagers are famous
for moodiness, and telepathic, telekinetic teenagers with a chip on their
shoulders are worse. Whatever argument he and Luke had, Ben isn't sharing any
more than Luke did. It must have been bad.
There's a worry, one of several, that grows in Han's stomach as the days go by.
He keeps his cargo runs within the system, and keeps his eye on his kid, and he
can't help but wonder how good that telepathy thing has grown. Does Ben listen
in on his thoughts? Can he hear Leia dreaming? Does he know?
They've never told him about the thing with Luke, the incredible, wonderful
thing that began back in the old days and never really stopped, no matter how
many times Luke pulls away and says they shouldn't. Han knows they shouldn't
keep bedding Leia's brother, not since they discovered the truth, but Han loves
him so much, and he's lousy at letting go. Leia's never once let the rules tell
her she can't do something she believes is the right thing to do.
Han thinks they definitely ought to sit the kid down one day very soon, and
tell him. Cards on the table, full story. About Vader. About Luke. About
everything.
Then he comes home one night, and Ben is kissing his mother, really kissing
her. At first, Han doesn't know what to think, doesn't know what he's seeing.
Is she choking, and he's helping her? Is he giving her a good-night kiss and
Han is at a weird angle? The moment changes, and so does the angle, and it's
three strides to reach them, pushing them apart.
"What the hell?" The words are to Ben. He doesn't want to think Leia did this.
He's watched her straddle her brother's thighs, riding him as sweat stuck her
hair down her back, urging him on. He has seen her lips play over Luke's prick,
sucking and licking him as Han's mouth nibbled at the soft down covering his
balls. She's buckled on a belt, fitted with a proud, jutting silicone toy, and
she's fed the slicked phallus into her twin as he gasped and begged her to go
deeper.
But this is her son.
Surely she wouldn't. Surely she couldn't. Surely she hasn't spread her knees
and let Ben kneel between her legs to take that first intimate taste as she
arched under the press of his tongue.
Oh, Leia.
Leia's eyes are distant, almost clouded. "It's fine," she says, in an echo of
her own voice. Inside Han's head, he hears, "It's fine." The same clouds in her
eyes press against his head.
It's not fine. It's horrible. But Ben has taken his neck in a firm hand,
drawing him closer, and his lips are soft. "You love me," his son breathes into
his mouth. "Please, I need you to love me." His erection is thick in his
trousers, pressing against Han's hip.
Han does love him. He loves Ben more than his life.
"Love me," is the command, given to them both.
The clouds descend.
===============================================================================
"I've asked for a posting on another planet," Leia announces. She's taken them
out to dinner yet again. For some reason, she hates stepping into the apartment
here. The living room bothers her. She's rearranged it five times since Ben
came home, and every morning, she wakes up hating everything about it. The
apartment feels wrong, from the kitchen to her bedroom. The whole planet feels
wrong.
"Great," Han says, toasting her. He's had a lot to drink tonight. He's been
drinking more, and she wants to tell him to stop, and she wants to join him.
"Oh," she says, turning to Ben. "I've got some great news for you. Luke
contacted me today. He's finally got a permanent site set up for the school
he's been trying to get together. He's already got four other students, and he
says he can't wait for you to join him. Aren't you excited?"
Her voice is upbeat, and she can't explain the fear under her words. She
couldn't answer Luke's question when he asked her if she was all right.
"You're sending me back to him?"
"If you want to go. You seem to have learned so much." The words come out in
brittle staccato. She's reminded, crazily, of a puppet show she watched as a
child. The puppet's mouth moved, but she kept her eyes on the puppeteer,
waiting to catch him.
Her strings feel limp.
"He doesn't want me, either."
"Hey," Han says, a little too loudly. "Luke loves having you around, and so do
we. We just all want what's best for you."
Ben stands up. "I'm tired. Let's go home."
Ice freezes in Leia's veins. She'll be leaving this planet soon. Everything
will be better when they leave this planet.
She doesn't want to go home.
===============================================================================
"They are yours to command," says his new Master, the wrinkled alien who seems
to know every thought Ben has ever had.
No, not Ben. Ben is gone. Ben was rejected, unloved. The people who should have
loved him were afraid of him and sent him away again and again.
"I have the coordinates," says Kylo Ren.
===============================================================================
The scene plays out in front of her, and Rey cannot make a move to stop it, not
a word. The beast who invaded her mind, who's been chasing her on this base,
who visited her dreams long before she knew his name, is going to murder the
man in front of him. She can see it crackle out into the future, one path in
front of them out of many, but the most likely of all.
She's known Han for a day, and Kylo is right. She already loves him like the
missing father she can't remember. But Han has a child, and his son is about to
kill him.
The last light fades.
The crystal cracks in the other direction.
The lightsaber flares into Kylo, a self-inflicted attempt to end a torment she
only glimpsed inside the tatters of his powerful mind. Han catches his son,
checking for the damage, and hoists him into a carry as he shouts to Chewbacca,
"He's hurt! Come on!"
The moment is broken, and so is her paralysis. She takes Finn's hand without
thinking. "Hurry," she says, and meets Han and Chewie at the door.
===============================================================================
It begins with little observations.
As soon as Han has retrieved his wayward brother-in-law from the mysterious
planet Luke ran off to, he's back with them, living out of the ship. Rey
already has quarters with the Resistance, bunking with the other pilots, and
she doesn't feel bad about declining his offer to sign on. This is where she
belongs. Besides, Luke has the third bunk now. The General has her quarters,
but no one bats an eye at her spending her sleeping hours aboard her husband's
ship, even so far as swapping her room on the base with Chewbacca, who's
apparently pretty high-ranking in the military when he's not off swindling
Kanjiklub with Han.
Rey watches, and doesn't quite, not quite, know how these pieces fit together.
Everyone's curious. Finn and his friend are always asking her if she's seen or
heard anything strange since Luke got home. He's offered to teach her, she
tells them, but not until after.
'After' is a strange word. Kylo Ren has been recuperating in the infirmary
under a name Rey never heard before. She and Finn have been sworn to secrecy
that this Ben Solo is the same tyrant who destroyed worlds.
Poe already knows.
As soon as his wounds are healed, Ben takes quarters aboard the Falcon, and
then even if she wanted to, she has no cabin left. 'After' hasn't come yet. The
odd family is spending all their hours together working through their past.
She wishes she could say the same. She remembers being abandoned. She doesn't
remember the faces of the people who abandoned her. They're stuck behind clouds
in her memory.
"I could help you with that," says Ben one day as they sit together. She is at
her earliest lessons. He has forgotten most of his. Luke is patient with them
both.
"With my memory?"
"You would have to be certain you want to know. Some things are best left
unknown." He's never apologized for what he did to her, or to Poe, or to the
galaxy. She has no reason to trust him.
"No. I'd rather not know."
But when she looks at Luke, part of her already knows. Not the how. Not the
why. Just the truth.
===============================================================================
The beginning was fear, and transgression. The second beginning is hard,
opening her mind in his presence with Luke there to serve as guard and
chaperone.
Beginnings take time.
It takes four months until she follows Ben back to his bunk on the ship. When
he is buried inside of her, and his mind is curled around hers like a vine,
only then can her senses reach out and feel the bunk next to them is empty, and
this one is practically bare.
She reads the truth in his eyes, and Rey wants to be horrified. Instead, she
feels the three in the furthest bunk, writhing together, feels their pleasures
deep in her belly.
She wants.
Ben pulls from her, still hard and needy. "Are you sure?"
She can feel his mind try to shove into hers, and she pushes back easily.
"Yes." Naked, he takes her hand and leads her to the other bunk. The door opens
under his hand. Rey knows what she will see, can feel it in the warmth between
her legs, could read the past in Ben's thoughts. Luke is deep inside Han, and
Leia's mouth is on him.
They turn, like cats, grey and experienced, eyes on them both. Leia stands,
knees creaking a bit, and she kisses Rey, her mouth tasting of her husband. Ben
stands beside her, his face dropping to press against his mother's breast as
his hand reaches out to stroke his father. She can feel a press in the air, the
Force pushing at them. Leia guides her closer to the bed. Luke's hand touches
Rey's leg, his fingers stroking into her as he moans into Han's body. She's
close, too close, and she is drowning as she shouts against Leia's lips.
This is right where Rey has always belonged. This is the beginning of something
big.
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