My friends, the people of earth. . .

Bearing this in mind, I ask you to recall that Ben Solo is groomed from childhood by a malevolent entity—Snoke, or Palpatine, if you want to acknowledge the existence of Episode IX—to believe that his strength in the Force is directly correlated to what we, as a modern audience, might recognize as the severity of his disorder. Explosive outbursts, self-hatred, self-harm…each of these symptomatic behaviors is reinforced as crucial to his training in the Dark Side. His identity is broken down and rebuilt into the Kylo Ren we meet in The Force Awakens over the span of years in a vicious and frequently violent reward-punishment cycle by a predator wielding him as a weapon, and his fear of abandonment is used to keep him in line. Whatever else he may be, Ben Solo/Kylo Ren is a victim of abuse.

[AGE OF RESISTANCE: SUPREME LEADER SNOKE: A displeased Snoke strikes his apprentice.]

Of course, none of this excuses the murders. But it does beg the question: Why are some people tripping over themselves to empathize with Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader while insisting that Ben Solo/Kylo Ren got what he deserved?

Because, in case we’ve collectively forgotten, these two are paralleled across the films, novels, and comics more times than I have teeth. Legacy of Vader (Thank you, Charles Soule, for your service.) is the comic equivalent of Lucasfilm grabbing fans by the face and going, “See? See? See?” It does both characters a disservice to love one and hate the other, ignoring that we’re meant to see them as two sides of the same coin.

[LEGACY OF VADER #12: Ben Solo, in the guise of Darth Vader, appears to Kylo Ren.]

Common justifications for this love-hate dichotomy—and my counterarguments—below:

“Kylo Ren is a whiny wannabe-Vader!”

I mean…yes. That’s the point. He’s emotive, much like Anakin in the prequels, and the narrative beats you over the head with the fact that he’s trying to fill Vader’s shoes. (Or helmet, as it were.) What about this makes Kylo Ren a less sympathetic character than Darth Vader?

[AGE OF RESISTANCE: KYLO REN: Decades apart, Darth Vader and Kylo Ren fight to subdue the Benathy.]

While I, personally, would never describe Vader as stoic, this particular complaint reads as a byproduct of attitudes toward masculinity that prioritize stone-faced endurance over anything approaching mental and emotional wellbeing, rather than any kind of meaningful critique. There’s nothing inherently noble about suffering in silence, and there’s nothing inherently ignoble about verbalizing pain. Kylo Ren and Darth Vader are made less sympathetic by their willingness to inflict their suffering on others, not by their “whining” or lack thereof.

“Ben Solo turned to the Dark Side for no reason.”

Ben Solo makes many terrible decisions, several predating his adoption of the title Kylo Ren. It’s not inaccurate to say that he is, to some degree, responsible for his own suffering. It’s also not inaccurate to say that none of his decisions are made in a vacuum.

Canon tells us that Snoke’s influence starts early—early enough that Leia factors it into her decision to send Ben to Luke for training, even if she chooses not to discuss what she knows with her son or her husband. Canon also tells us that, through some cocktail of fear, shame, and avoidance, Leia, Han, and Luke manage to keep the Skywalker-Vader secret from Ben until his early twenties, at which point he has been struggling with both the influence of a powerful Dark Side Force-user and the suspicion that his family fears him for the better part of two decades.

It’s worth noting here that Leia, Han, and Luke’s actions are analogous to the real-world actions of parents who hide family histories of mental illness from their children. Their decision to withhold the truth further isolates Ben, as he likely believes he’s the only member of his family struggling with a call to the Dark, and it does nothing to provide him hope that this struggle can be managed, if not completely overcome.

[THE RISE OF KYLO REN #1: Snoke communes with Ben Solo in the aftermath of Luke’s betrayal.]

Consider, for a moment, learning that (1) your family has been keeping secrets from you, (2) one of those secrets is your direct relation to the most feared Sith in recent galactic history, and (3) your perceived similarity to said Sith—your grandfather—has been poisoning the well of your family’s love for you since you were a child. Then, consider these revelations being followed in short order by the singularly terrifying experience of waking to the sight of the galaxy’s most powerful Jedi—your uncle—standing over you with his lightsaber drawn and the Force “moving darkly” around him. If Ben previously had any reasons to doubt Snoke’s voice in his head, we can assume they crumble with Luke’s Jedi temple.

[THE RISE OF KYLO REN #1: Ben Solo seeks comfort in the arms of his new master.]

Anakin Skywalker’s fall from grace follows a similar, albeit not identical, trajectory. Born into slavery, separated from his mother (by distance, then death), and thrust into a galactic war at the tender age of nineteen, he experiences significant trauma both before and after Palpatine begins his manipulation. Anakin is both extremely Force-sensitive and extremely emotionally vulnerable, despite the systems in place to support him: a blood brother in Obi-Wan, a lover in Padmé, and a council of mentors in the Jedi. Granted, the Jedi have their problems—the Council is mistrustful and withholding at times, which in turn leads Anakin to lean more and more on Palpatine for guidance—but they recognize Anakin’s potential and nurture his development in the best way they know how.

Where grandfather and grandson differ most starkly is in the immediate circumstances of their respective falls: Ben Solo turns to Snoke for safety after being betrayed by a loved one via an attempt on his life, while Anakin Skywalker betrays his loved ones and turns to Palpatine for the promise of power over death; Ben Solo believes he has no home to return to and will not be forgiven, while Anakin Skywalker has a home in Obi-Wan and Padmé—both of whom have established their willingness to forgive truly shocking acts of violence; Ben Solo tries to flee Luke’s Jedi temple without harming any of his fellow students and only fights when backed into a corner, while Anakin Skywalker leads the slaughter of his Jedi brothers and sisters almost immediately after aligning himself with the Sith.

[Excerpt from SKYWALKER: A FAMILY AT WAR.]

Given the above, if we’re willing to accept the narrative justification for Anakin’s fall, I fail to see why we wouldn’t accept the narrative justification for Ben’s.

“Ben Solo caused all of his own problems.”

Wrong. Or, more precisely: Tell me you don’t understand the impact of childhood emotional neglect without telling me you don’t understand the impact of childhood emotional neglect.

Leia and Han are good people. Leia and Han are heroes. Leia and Han are loving parents. Leia and Han also spend a significant amount of time away from their son, to the extent that Ben spends a solid chunk of his childhood effectively raised by droids.

[Excerpt from SKYWALKER: A FAMILY AT WAR.]

Put simply: Leia Organa and Han Solo have responsibilities to the galaxy that come into conflict with their responsibilities to their son, and little Ben Solo is a child with complex developmental needs that his parents are unequipped to meet. Yes, some of their shortcomings are due to their inability to fully grasp Ben’s connection to the Force, but I would argue that Ben suffers less from a lack of mystical understanding than he does from a lack of emotional support.

Ben Solo is a tender child; he cries easily and often. Even as a toddler, he’s regarded by his father as having eyes far older—and presumably sadder—than his years. His first conscious use of the Force is entirely benign: fetching a favorite plush toy from across a room. He loves his parents and idolizes his uncle Luke. Ben Solo is not, as some Star Wars fans would like to believe, born bad. (No one is. But that’s a post for another day.)

What Ben Solo is is lonely.

He’s different from his peers; he struggles to make friends. Even before he learns the truth about Anakin, his sense of self is split down the middle: pulled toward both Light and Dark. He carries the twin burdens of his family’s legacy and the galaxy’s great expectations from a startlingly young age and—terrified of their disappointment and rejection—hides his feelings of inadequacy from the people he loves. Ben is afraid, and this fear leaves him vulnerable to isolation and manipulation. When Snoke offers him power and purpose, it works because Ben Solo believes he cannot be loved as he is.

He’s wrong, of course. Ben Solo is loved—and so, impossibly, is Kylo Ren. But being loved is not the same as feeling loved, and none of the adults in Ben’s life, except for Snoke, are able to identify this gap.

Certain fans love to pin all the blame for Ben’s fall on Ben himself while railing against the Jedi for failing Anakin, but multiple parties bear responsibility for the rise of Kylo Ren, and this is acknowledged explicitly in canon.

Select examples below:

Luke

[Excerpt from THE LAST JEDI film novelization.]

[Excerpt from THE LAST JEDI junior novelization.]

[Excerpt from SKYWALKER: A FAMILY AT WAR.]

Leia

[Excerpt from THE LAST JEDI film novelization.]

[Excerpt from THE LAST JEDI junior novelization.]

[Excerpt from SKYWALKER: A FAMILY AT WAR.]

Han

[Excerpt from AFTERMATH: EMPIRE'S END.]

[Excerpt from THE FORCE AWAKENS junior novelization.]

[Excerpt from SKYWALKER: A FAMILY AT WAR.]

If you’ve made it this far, you may be wondering where I’m going with all this. If so, I hope you’ll indulge me just a bit longer as I attempt to land this metaphorical transport.

Anakin Skywalker fears loss, and his pursuit of an end to this fear makes it come true. When we first meet him in A New Hope, his wife is dead, his brother is in hiding, and the Jedi Order is no more. He trusts no one but the master who lured him into the Darkness. Darth Vader survives his past self in a lonely half-life, filled with rage and regret.

Ben Solo fears loss, and his pursuit of an end to this fear makes it come true. When we first meet him in The Force Awakens, his parents are dead to him, his uncle is in hiding, and the Jedi Order is no more. He trusts no one but the master who lured him into the Darkness. Kylo Ren survives his past self in a lonely half-life, filled with rage and regret.

The tragedy of Darth Vader is that he can’t turn back. The tragedy of Kylo Ren is that he can.

So, why doesn’t he?

The answer to this question comes, of all places, from the swamps of Dagobah, where the Cave of Evil confronts Kylo Ren with his greatest fear: not an enemy, or even his own inner darkness, but a vision of his uncle, hesitant to strike, and of his parents, ready to forgive.

[AGE OF RESISTANCE: SUPREME LEADER SNOKE: Kylo Ren receives a vision of his parents.]

This is why Kylo Ren fights so desperately against his own redemption: because if he can be forgiven after destroying Luke’s temple, murdering Han, and terrorizing the galaxy as Snoke’s apprentice, it means his family loves him, still; and if his family loves him, still, it means they never stopped, that the voices in his head—some his own, some his master’s—have all been wrong, or lying, and that he’s never had to be anything but what he is.

Ben Solo, like his grandfather before him, wants nothing more than to go home.

Disclaimer: I’ve seen some less-than-charitable takes on this run. Fans have variously (1) praised it for casting Kylo Ren as a “self-pitying incel,” (2) criticized it for sidelining Hux, (3) loved it solely for shipping reasons, (4) hated it solely for shipping reasons…the list goes on. If you, gentle reader, fall into any of the aforementioned camps, please know that I’m not here to tell you that you have to like Legacy of Vader. You’re not obligated to like anything. I am, however, here to make the case that Legacy of Vader is valuable to fans interested in the interiority of Ben Solo.

Kylo Ren is a liar. He lies to others, and he lies to himself; often, he does both at the same time.

Legacy of Vader spends much of its time on this idea. Issues #1-11 see Kylo Ren receiving and rejecting others’ assessments of his raison d'être, unwilling to do the introspective work required to test their validity, while Issue #12 presents him with a mirror and holds his face to the glass. The sequence illustrated above is from the series’ final confrontation, a duel between Kylo Ren as he is and Ben Solo as he might have been, set meaningfully in (emphasis mine) “Fortress Vader. Within.” This place, we’re told, is true. What might we learn from its honesty?

Interpretations below. Please note that truth is being used here to mean “character’s sincerely-held belief” and not “objective fact.”

“You’ve destroyed your relationships with everyone you could plausibly call family. You’ve methodically destroyed every connection in your life.”

Lie: Kylo Ren is content to be alone. The only relationships he’s interested in are those that aid his pursuit of power. (Legacy of Vader #3)

Truth: Kylo Ren has betrayed everyone he’s ever loved. Despite his ongoing pursuit of power, he’s lonely. He has no one to blame but himself.

“You brought destruction, chaos, and death to everyone you met. At least Vader had reasons for the things he did. You…you’re just an explosion.”

Lie: Kylo Ren's actions are justified by his pain. The galaxy deserves to suffer because he's suffered. (Legacy of Vader #2)

Truth: Kylo Ren doesn’t know why he does the things he does. He thinks he might be cursed, or broken.

“You’re so scared. Scared of moving forward, scared you have no future because of how thoroughly you’ve ruined everything you’ve ever done.”

Lie: Kylo Ren has defeated everything and everyone that once held power over him. He has nothing to fear. (Legacy of Vader #10)

Truth: Every choice Kylo Ren has ever made for himself has been wrong. Without a master, he feels paralyzed.

“That’s why you’re obsessed with your past. That’s why you want to kill it. Because maybe if you weren’t who you are, maybe if you could just erase it…then the Jedi girl would have taken your hand.”

Lie: Ben Solo is nothing but the sum of Kylo Ren's mistakes. Once Kylo Ren removes the memory of who he used to be from the galaxy, he'll be able to move on. (Legacy of Vader #5)

Truth: Kylo Ren spares his mother and his rival—both of whom know him more intimately than anyone still living—because losing them will mean he's truly alone.

“You can’t kill your past. But you already know that, don’t you? It’s the truth you can’t escape.”

Lie: Kylo Ren's past is something external he can kill. (Legacy of Vader #1)

Truth: Kylo Ren's past dies with him, or not at all.

“This could all be over. I could make it all stop for you. But that's not something I would ever do. I'm a Jedi.”

Lie: Kylo Ren has no limits. Nothing is forbidden to him. (Legacy of Vader #4)

Truth: Kylo Ren wants to die. He cannot kill himself.

Kylo Ren spends the majority of this comic run demanding a worthy opponent. Why? Because he wants to lose. Vader’s legacy, Charles Soule reminds us, isn’t glory—it’s this: “Dying to fight. Dying to die.”

It’s a shame that Disney/Lucasfilm couldn’t conceive of an arc for Ben Solo that didn’t boil down to “passively suicidal character is better off dead,” but I’m curious to see where this next installment will take him.

Shame pools like oil in his throat, recognizing the casual cruelty in it, but that doesn't steal the truth from the statement. Some part of him had believed, had hoped, even, these desires would wane once sated—that, at some point, he would no longer feel so starved of you, for the brush of your lips against his, the caress of your fingers at his neck.

But this is a hunger that has him clinging to the bunched fabric of your skirt with the kind of grip he'd normally reserve for the hilt of a blade, so transparently desperate in his attempts to keep you close.

You sigh at his lips, your breath almost chill compared to his feverish skin. At the fear of your absence, Armitage slips a hand from where it rests at your hip, encircling your waist until he feels the press of your chest against his own.

And in response, you shift more fully into his lap, kissing him deeper than before, your thumb brushing over the expanse of his cheek. If a there will be a day when Armitage stops craving the feeling, he cannot bear to think of it. He's becoming more and more certain that this need will be insatiable long after he meets his grave.

The shape of you is distorted by the layers of fabric between his body and yours, but the pressure is enough to bring a gasp to his lips when he feels your hips meet his, the welcome weight of your body against his quickly-stiffening cock.

There's a little pause in your movement, and the smile that comes after burns like a brand against his cheek as your kisses drift further from his mouth, across the contours of his jaw to the space just below his ear.

The trace of your tongue along the edge of his earlobe, the sound of his name, your voice thick with suggestion. Armitage cannot help himself.

His hips shift upward without any command, and a groan he can't suppress forces its way between his teeth at the feeling of it, at the friction, even through the layers of your skirts, the drag of his uniform.

Your ribs flex under his palm with a heavy gasp, stunned maybe, at his boldness. And yet it cannot shame him out of the subtle pull at your hip, encouraging you to follow suit, to feel the effect you have on him.

You sit back as much as he'll allow you, meeting his gaze, eyes wide for a moment before your lids flutter closed, hummed moans breaking from your lips in time with the movement of your bodies. Armitage has let himself forget again—that you enjoy this. Being with him. Feeling him.

And so your husband makes no apology as he allows the hand at your hip to drift upwards over the silken bodice of your dress, thumb just brushing over the stiff peak of your nipple. The moan that breaks through your lips carries the sound of his name.

Oh, no. Armitage can feel his pulse throbbing, insistent, through his dick, and the spike of fear in the front of his mind cannot stop the end that is quickly approaching.

"Sh-should we—" Armitage can hardly get the words out, and you show no interest in helping him, your lips back at his neck, the drag of your cunt right where he needs you most and where he cannot stand to feel you as his toes curl in his boots, thighs aching with this final attempt to restrain himself, if you would only give him a moment, he could—

Fuck. Too late now.

Armitage groans, low and deep, breath feathering through the soft hairs by your ear as the embers of his release course through him. Before the pleasure has even subsided, humiliation follows. He would run if he could manage it, if you were not still perched in his lap, frozen, with your fingers carding through his hair.

"Armitage?" He hears the question hidden in the way you say his name, and he cannot bear the weight of it, cannot bear to meet your eyes, burying his face in the palms of his hands—a weak attempt to hide from you, with the cum-soaked fabric of his trousers pressed against your thighs.

You try again, repeating his name, softer this time, your fingers slipping into the space between the edge of his gloves and the sleeve of his uniform, gentle, as you tug his hands into your lap.

Stars, he cannot face this—the little dip in your brow as you watch him, those curious eyes and your flushed lips, waiting, still, for him to explain to you how imbecilic he has been, how selfish.

"My apologies," Hux just manages to spit out the words as his fingers curl into fists, "I hadn't meant for that to- to happen."

He watches you, anxiety tugging at his every nerve, taking in the little twitch at the bridge your nose as you process his words. And when the smile begins to form, Armitage attempts weakly to avoid your gaze, but you will not allow it.

"Really?"

You release your grip on him, let one of your hands press into his chest, traveling upward until you take hold of his jaw, stealing the breath from his lungs, and there's no shadow of disappointment in the path of your fingers, no trace of reproach as you lean closer, your lips hovering just out of reach of his own.

"Because of me?" you whisper, and you must find your answer written in his red-rimmed eyes and pathetic expression, because your smile only grows wider. Armitage lets his head fall back against the couch cushion, eyes shut tight to you and your indefatigable ability to see the best in him when it is not deserved.

"I had hoped to—" You must already know, of course, heard those whispered words—inside you, please—every time you had granted him the privilege to feel you beneath him, beside him, above him. Armitage stalls, at a loss. He doesn't have the language to map the caverns of his disgrace for you, to make you understand that it was his own lack of restraint that had deprived both of you of the incomparable delight.

And yet you are undeterred, once again taking his wrist in your grip, guiding Armitage's hand beneath the sea-foam ripples of your skirts, (like your eyes, you had said, when he complimented the color, the words that had started this whole mess), pressing him nearer and nearer to the apex of your thighs until his fingers just brush the dampened lace that covers your cunt.

"I think we'll manage," you whisper, your wet lips pressed up against his ear, and for a moment Armitage forgets those wells of shame surging inside him, pressing at your core until he hears you gasp, stroking his fingers along the soft valleys of your body.

"And you're not—" he shouldn't even speak of it, shouldn't give the idea any weight in your mind, and yet his fear will not allow him to let those insecurities fester inside him, "disappointed?"

Your brows pull together, confused, but only for a moment before pleasure overtakes it, soft moans spilling from between your lips, your fingers tightening their grip at his shoulder as he pets at your folds.

"I had never hoped," you whisper, "for something like this. I never thought I'd know what it feels like to be so—"

Armitage cannot help the terror that grips his lungs at the thought you might say it—the word that has been on the tip of his tongue from the beginning, the word that could tear him apart to hear it in the open now, as vulnerable as he feels, as undeserving as he is.

"Admired?" he supplies, before you can complete your thought, and his suggestion brings a laugh to your lips that quickly dissolves into a sigh as Armitage shifts the wet fabric out of the way, tracing your slit with his leather-clad fingers.

You shake your head as your eyes roll back at the feeling of him, at the pleasure he can bring.

"I've been admired more than enough," you respond, and even with his fingers thrusting in and out of your pulsing cunt, Armitage feels a spark of jealousy.

It's quelled quickly enough—you press your forehead against his own, his breaths coming almost as hard and fast as your own, and he knows you're close, the heel of his hand grinding insistently against your clit.

He tastes your words sooner than he hears them with the way you whisper against his parted lips.

"You've shown me what it's like to be adored."

Oh. The truth of it rings through his body, through his fingers as he works at your core and his chest where it meets yours and the flush of his cheeks. Armitage adores you, his wife, the singular joy his blood-stained hands and repugnant soul will ever be allowed.