A/N: This begged to be written! Kylo is just too fun of a character. The movie was absolutely glorious, and I can't wait to watch it a second (and a third, and a fourth) time. Still in denial about a fair bit of it (the lack of Mara Jade, cough), but I'll survive. Major spoilers ahead, naturally.

Peace is a lie. There is only passion.

He's always been ambitious. Son of a princess-turned-general and a smuggler-turned-war hero, he was always destined for greatness. Sometimes he sees himself as a diplomat like his mother, settling disputes between planets with the compassion and wisdom born of the Force. Sometimes he sees himself as a pilot like his father, charting the Unknown Regions and bringing democracy to their societies. Sometimes he sees himself as a ruler like his grandfather, holding the lives of trillions and knowing that he's finally important, that people stand a little straighter when they see him. He doesn't tell anybody about that last dream of his, just tucks it close to his heart and seeks the Force.

Ambition is frowned upon by the Jedi. One can attempt to aid others as best they can, but they can't obtain a position that will allow them to have more influence. If assassinating a corrupt ruler would save millions of lives from their tyranny, why not do it? Actions done for the greater good can only bring about peace. But when he voices these views aloud, his parents cringe. He stops telling them his beliefs, just shoves them down to stew with his frustration. It's hard to be at peace when the world isn't.

Through passion I gain strength.

Training is hard for him. Snoke pushes him farther beyond anything Skywalker had ever taught him. Jedi training was all about limiting and controlling one's power. This training tests the limits of the possible, then breaks straight through them. He can rip thoughts from a prisoner's head, tear the consciousness of a person away, freeze anything in place- a human, a blaster bolt, anything. He's learning so much more than he ever had at the Academy, and every day he can feel himself approaching his potential. There's only one thing blocking him from greatness.

There's strength in his gratitude, his thankfulness that his father is willing to give up his life to further his own potential. Perhaps Solo doesn't see that yet, what he's just agreed to, but he knows that all his father had ever wanted to do was help his son. And if that help is allowing him to break down one of his last ties to the light, one of his last remaining weaknesses? Solo touches his face, and it feels like absolution. He isn't sure he wants to be absolved.

Through strength I gain power.

He hits the wound on his side, the gaping hole left from the Wookie's overpowered bowcaster. A new wave of pain courses through him and he focuses on it, uses it to make him stronger. His focus is absolute, his mission certain. He will win, and the First Order will prevail. He ignores the memories of Chewbacca acting as the only nanny he'd ever known, back before his view of the world had been shattered. Nostalgia for his childhood is such an unforgivable weakness, he's surprised the Supreme Leader doesn't destroy him on the spot, radiating Force lightning across millions of light-years to strike him dead. He hits the wound again and advances. Pain is all he's ever known. Sometimes he thinks it's all he deserves.

Through power I gain victory.

The Force allows him to move effortlessly, the ache in his side suddenly dulled to an afterthought. He counters the traitorous stormtrooper's attacks with ease. Look what happens to you when you depend on the light, he thinks as he drives the crossguard of his ragged, flickering lightsaber through Finn's shoulder, sizzling through cloth and flesh. You become weak. Weakness leads to failure, failure leads to ruin, ruin leads to darkness. The dark always wins. Always.

He wins. He knew he would.

Through victory my chains are broken.

He lies numb on the ground and watches Rey recede from him, not by choice but by the planet's intervention. She's won this battle. He needs to train more, to immerse himself in the all-conquering strength of the Force if he wants to win the next time. Oh, and he does. He licks his bleeding lips as she vanishes off to collect the body of her pathetic friend and crow about her victory, no doubt.

She has everything he's ever wanted- unlimited potential of the Force, a circle of friends instead of unwilling allies, the love and respect of his own father. His grandfather would be more proud of her than of him. Hatred fills him, swims before his eyes in a sea of red like blood, like his lightsaber sticking out through his father's back, and he seizes it triumphantly. That hatred- that passion- is back, and he greets it like a beloved friend. This time, he won't be weak. This time, he'll win.

The Force shall free me.