Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jakku

Rising from the unforgiving sands of the desert Kingdom of Jakku, stood the fortified city of Nima, defiantly alive in a sea of sunburnt rock and heat that stretched endlessly into the horizon.

At its heart was the royal palace, a citadel of carved sandstone walls, domed courtyards and pools fed by underground springs. 

To the people, the palace was the soul of Jakku, for within its walls lived the Royal family, a noble and ancient line and the guardians of their traditions, their faith and their peace. 

It was from this line that Princess Rey was born.

Tonight, she stood alone on a high balcony, her back to the candlelit chamber behind her. 

Below her, the kingdom slept, almost silent. 

This was her favorite time of day. After the sweltering heat, the night air was a welcome relief. She leaned over the banister, reveling in the way the cool breeze rolled over her skin and played in her long chestnut hair. 

She smiled to herself.

If only she were a bird. 

“Why leave Jakku?” Her mother, Queen Adah, would often scoff at her daughter's wishful fancies. “These sands are sacred, anointed by the gods.”

Anointed, because nowhere else in the country did the sun, moon, and stars hang so near, as if just out of reach. Her father, King Prana, used to say it was because Jakku sat closest to the Sky Goddess, who watched over them like a mother cradling her children. 

But while her parents and the rest of the kingdom revered the Sky Goddess, Rey had always offered her prayers to the Earth Goddess.

As a child, she would pray for Jakku to be blessed with the beauty of the far away lands of her storybooks. She dreamed of towering trees, wild, brightly colored flowers, rushing rivers and fields of fragrant herbs to fill her medicine pouch. 

Her prayers were never answered. 

Still, she felt something. A soft, persistent pull, as if the Earth Goddess were calling to her, promising her a greener world. 

She was only a girl, a princess bound to the fortress and safety of the palace walls. Her older brothers, who often traveled to distant lands, would return home with stories of vibrant cultures, strange foods, lively dances and women, beautiful beyond words. 

But there were also darker tales.

Whispers of war, bloodshed and an army of shadows that crept across the land.

Rey shivered as an icy breeze swept past her, slipping into her room and ruffling the gossamer curtains hanging on the windows.

A new threat was rising from the North. She had overheard her eldest brother, Samm, speak of it to their father the evening he returned from his latest diplomatic mission.

“They call themselves the First Order,” his voice was hushed. “But they’re no different from the old Empire.”

“What? A remnant of the old Empire?” The King frowned

“Led by the heir of the Skywalker line”

Rey heard the scrape of a chair and her father’s deep growl. 

“That family has been a scourge on this country for generations!” 

Rey, hidden just beyond the chamber doors, leaned in closer, heart pounding. She had heard the name before, in whispers and old war songs.

“What of the Emperor?” her father asked. “What do we know of him?”

Her brother hesitated. “They say he’s young…brilliant. Brutal. A warrior raised by a General who fought in the war with his father, the old Emperor. His name…”

“Speak it,” her father commanded.

“Kylo Ren.”

Rey felt a chill ripple through her.

Kylo Ren. 

It echoed in her mind, strange, sharp, imperial. Who was this man who ruled from the shadows?

They spoke of Kylo Ren as if he were a storm, unpredictable, merciless. A shadow that passed through kingdoms and left only ash and silence in his wake. 

The First Order, her brother said, was no mere army. They were impostors in crimson and black. They carried with them not only swords, but a dark religion with a single, merciless god, faceless and hungry, demanding submission.

Rey’s breath caught in her throat.

What kind of man follows a god like that?

What kind of emperor leads them?

“The latest news is that the Provinces of Yavin and Hoth have fallen” Samm sighed, hanging his head.

“That means they’re moving South!” Her father exclaimed.

“It’s only a matter of time before they set their sights on Jakku.” Samm said in response to their father’s alarm “we have to move fast, send emissaries to the neighboring provinces and set up defenses as soon as possible.”

“We have nothing here that would interest a man like Kylo Ren…” This time it was Mother who spoke, her usually sharp voice, soft and fearful.

She wasn’t wrong. They were a quaint little Kingdom. They had no riches, no armies strong enough to fight, no fertile fields to feed an alliance. Just endless sand and dust.

“Kylo Ren conquers for sport.” Samm responded “he doesn’t care what we have or don’t have. He wants the whole country to fall under his command”

Pulling herself out of her cold reverie, Rey moved away from the balcony to her chamber. She sat down on her bed and began to braid her hair, thinking of the Kingdoms that had fallen to Kylo Ren. Once, their emissaries had filled her father’s court and their banners flew proudly beside Jakku’s. Now, those flags were most likely torn down, replaced by the bloodied banners of the First Order.

“Rey?”

It was Jess, her companion and childhood friend. Rey turned, offering a small smile as Jess crossed the room and leaned casually against one of the bedposts.

“Your mother wants to know if you’ll be visiting the shrine tomorrow.”

“Of course I will,” Rey replied, laying back on the bed. “I always go on my birthday.”

“Well, your mother is bringing in a soothsayer,” Jess said with a mischievous smile. “Now that you’re turning nineteen, I think she wants to find you a suitable prince.”

Rey rolled her eyes.

But Jess leaned closer, her eyes sparkling.

“Or who knows, maybe even a king.” She added

Rey had been expecting this.

With three older brothers ahead of her, it had always been easy to forget that her turn would come too. But now, the time was ripe for her parents to let go, and for Rey to fulfill her duty as a princess. To forge an alliance.

But the news that her mother was bringing in a soothsayer filled her with quiet frustration.

“So, she wants to predict my fate? You can tell my mother that I plan on making my own destiny!”

Jess chuckled, settling down on the bed beside Rey.

“Rey, you never know what the gods have planned for you.”

“I already know what the gods want for me,” Rey shot back with fierce conviction. “And it’s not marriage to a pompous prince.”

Naboo

That morning, the sun that rose over the emereld green splendour of the province of Naboo, cast its rays on an empty throne.

The Emperor was nowhere to be found.

He was absent from both his private chambers and the council hall. Though he had been seen leaving the harem at daybreak, no one had caught sight of him since.

Where is that boy?

General Snoke moved with deliberate calm through the palace grounds, eyes scanning the marble paths and shadowed corners. Kylo Ren, now Emperor in title, was no longer a child, but in Snoke’s eyes, traces of the boy Leia Organa had left in his care still lingered.

Snoke had shaped him carefully over the years, honing his ambition, stripping away the softness that had filled the boy, teaching him to want, to conquer, to forsake all.

It was necessary. 

His power depended on it.

In his childhood, the Emperor had been known as Prince Ben Solo, the only son of Emperor Han Solo and Empress Leia Organa. Their empire, in those days, had been modest, peaceful after decades of war. 

Too modest, in Snoke’s eyes.

When a rebellion flared along the borders, an uprising led by idol worshippers, Han raised a small army and rode out to placate it. Leia, unable to let him go alone, followed. Their young son was left behind, entrusted to Snoke’s care.

Years passed. The war dragged on. The royal couple was eventually captured and imprisoned. Han Solo, worn down and broken, died behind cold stone walls. The rebel leader, a man calling himself Sidious, turned his gaze toward Naboo, vowing to claim it for his own.

Ben Solo was only fifteen.

Under Snoke’s orders, the boy issued a challenge. In a duel that silenced an empire, he brought Sidious to his knees and with a single, powerful stroke, severed his head from his body.

That was the day Kylo Ren was born.

That was the day Snoke saw not a pathetic boy, but something far greater. Not a weak fool like his father, but a weapon. A weapon that could remake an empire. 

Just as Snoke was about to abandon his search, a servant came sprinting up the garden path, breathless.

“Sir, General, sir, come quickly! The Emperor!”

Snoke said nothing. He simply turned and followed.

They moved swiftly, down the winding path, through the rear gate, and into the thick brush that bordered the great Endor Forest. Branches snapped beneath their feet as they pressed on, the servant leading the way with growing urgency until they reached a grassy clearing. 

Snoke stopped cold.

The space had been transformed, no longer a quiet grove, but a crude arena ringed with wooden stakes and scorched earth.

At the center of the ring stood the largest bull elephant Snoke had ever seen. A massive, majestic creature, clearly enraged. It swung its great head from side to side, trumpeting furiously, eyes wild.

Across from it, crouched low to the ground like a predator ready to strike, was Kylo Ren.

Snoke stood frozen, a wave of shock and horror crashing over him.

Kylo wore only a loose-fitting pair of mud-splattered trousers. Sweat gleamed on his bare, muscular shoulders, and strands of dark hair clung to his face. His brown eyes sparkled, not with focus or fury, but with something far more dangerous; boyish delight.

Then, he pounced.

In a few fluid, fearless motions, he scaled the elephant’s massive trunk and swung himself onto its back. The beast reared with a furious trumpet, and for a moment, the Emperor clung on, muscles taut, riding the chaos.

But the animal soon grew tired and Kylo leaned forward, placing both hands on the elephant’s head. He began to rub in slow, deliberate circles, whispering something inaudible. The great beast snorted, shifting its weight, its fury ebbing.

Snoke’s mouth parted slightly in disbelief as the elephant began to flap its ears in a slow, contented rhythm.

And then Kylo laughed. A low, triumphant laugh that rang through the clearing. 

“He was a tough one!” Kylo called out to the mahout standing just beyond the arena. The man waved back with a grin.

Snoke, still frozen in disbelief, stared at the great beast. Then Kylo spotted him.

“Ah, General!” he boomed, his voice echoing through the clearing. “Come and meet my newest friend!”

Snoke immediately pulled himself back into composure.

“So,” he said coolly, stepping forward, “this is what you’ve been doing all day while matters of state lie unattended?”

“If you’re referring to the tax disputes,” Kylo replied, sliding down from the elephant’s back like a cat out of bed. “I’ve already met with Hux and given him the solution.” 

He approached Snoke with calm confidence. “He assured me he’d pass it through to you for consideration.”

“I haven’t received anything from Hux regarding a tax dispute,” Snoke said, his voice growing sharper with each word. “And here you are, risking your life for a thrill!”

He took a step closer.

“Might I remind you, Your Majesty, that your position on the First Order throne is still far from secure? What if something had happened to you? You don’t even have an heir...”

Kylo Ren’s eyes darkened. His jaw tightened.

“Careful, General,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “What you’re suggesting is treason.”

“Your Majesty…that’s not what I meant” Snoke said quickly “You are still young, and there is plenty of time…”

Kylo turned away. Time was one thing he had plenty of and so were the women. A harem full of them, waiting each night. None he would ever visit. Except for Phasma.

He and Phasma had an understanding. She was sharp, unyielding, and the only one he truly respected. She was his equal, his advisor in the quiet hours.

Snoke watched Kylo for a moment, then, eager to shift the conversation, continued.

“Hoth and Yavin have fallen under our control, and I’ve deployed spies to the neighboring kingdoms. You’ve likely heard of Jakku. It may be a barren wasteland useless to us in itself, but its shrines are filled with offerings of gold and jewels. I’ve already sent troops there. This is the perfect opportunity to replenish the royal treasury.”

“No.” Kylo Ren whirled around “I will not have my soldiers desecrating shrines.”

Snoke’s eyes narrowed. 

“If you want to be a powerful ruler,” he said in a low voice, “you must take what you want, whenever you want and without hesitation. And why do you care so much about the shrines of those idol worshippers? Have you forgotten what I taught you?”

“No, General. I have not forgotten,” Kylo Ren said, placing a steady hand on Snoke’s shoulder. “But I also have a duty to God. I’ve vowed to unite this country under one peaceful rule. And God has promised me that power.”

Snoke’s lips curled into a faint, unreadable smile, eyes gleaming with calculation. “Very well, Your Majesty. I will call off the raid. Your devotion to God is...admirable. But know this, there are still debts to be paid and sometimes, to build peace, one must first wield the sword.”

Kylo met his gaze steadily, passing a sweaty hand through his thick, black hair. “I understand. But let it be on my terms, General. I don’t want an empire built on complete destruction”

Snoke inclined his head, the mask of loyalty never faltering. “As you wish”

Chapter Text

Jakku

King Prana and Queen Adah stood atop the high walls of Nima Fortress, watching their daughter’s retinue wind its way through the gates below.

The queen’s thoughts drifted back to Rey’s birthday celebration earlier that morning and how she had taken her daughter aside to gently urge her not to make the long journey to the temple of the holy shrines.

“Mother, I’ll be fine!” Rey had protested. “This is my special day, can’t I at least make the most of it? Do you want to keep me locked in here forever?”

“We must be careful, Rey.” Queen Adah replied firmly. “The enemy is almost at our door.”

In the end, the Queen had lost the argument.

Rey, beaming with excitement, had climbed eagerly into her palanquin and was now being carried through the desert alongside her ladies-in-waiting. The King had at least insisted on an escort of armed guards, and that gave the Queen some small measure of comfort, though not enough to quiet the unease that lingered in her heart. She didn’t even hear her maid servant come up behind her. 

“Your Majesty, Maz Kanata is here…”

The Queen blinked to attention. She had almost forgotten about the soothsayer she’d summoned to the palace days ago.

“Ask her to wait in the courtyard,” Queen Adah said, gathering herself. “Tell her I’ll meet her there shortly.”

The King, who had been listening quietly, turned to his wife.

“You didn’t tell me you invited Maz Kanata.”

“You weren’t supposed to know,” the Queen replied, a smile tugging at her lips. “Not until I’d heard what she had to say.”

The King studied her for a moment, and then, with a gentler tone, asked, “And Rey? Have you told her yet?”

The Queen hesitated. 

“About our plans for her betrothal to Prince Sahan of Coruscant?” he prompted.

“I will,” she said at last, turning to leave. “She may not like it, but she’ll understand. She always does.”

“She’s proud,” the King said. “Too much like you.”

“Is that supposed to be a warning or a compliment?” Adah asked, teasing.

“Both,” he replied with a chuckle, before growing serious. “The match makes sense politically. But I hope she likes him and they get along. I don’t want her to be a mere pawn in a game of alliances.”

“As long as there is a threat of war,” the Queen said softly “she will be.”

As the Queen descended the sandstone staircase into the courtyard, Maz Kanata rose from the bench where she had been waiting.

She was small and stooped, a fragile-looking old woman adorned with tribal markings that framed her large, dark eyes. Long robes trailed behind her as she moved, leaning heavily on a wooden walking stick.

With a slow, deliberate step, she approached the Queen and extended a wrinkled hand. The Queen took it gently, her smile warm and full of quiet respect.

“Your Majesty,” Maz began, her voice gravelly but kind. “It’s been so long since I was last here. But it seems nothing in the palace has changed.” She glanced around the courtyard with a wistful smile.

The Queen returned her gaze with warmth.

“Come, let’s go inside. You must be tired after your long journey. I’ve had some refreshments prepared for you.”

“No, Your Majesty,” Maz said gently. “You called me here for a reason. Let me fulfill my purpose.”

She took the Queen’s hand and led her toward the staircase, lowering herself with a sigh onto the bottom step. The Queen followed, carefully gathering her silk skirts as she settled just above her.

Maz Kanata had always been eccentric, that much was known. But she was a soothsayer, after all, and they were rarely ordinary.

The Queen waited in silence.

“Well then, Your Majesty,” Maz said at last, peering up with eyes that seemed far too knowing for their size. “Whose fortune am I to read?”

“My daughter,” the Queen replied softly. “Rey.”

Maz tilted her head slightly, as if tasting the name on her tongue.

“Rey…” she murmured. “The desert flower.”

She said nothing for a long moment, simply listening to the wind, to something far beyond the walls of Nima Fortress.

“I remember the last time I tried to read her fortune. She was just a baby then, barely able to lift her little head.” Maz’s voice softened, distant. “But I refused to speak of her future back then... it was... murky.”

The Queen leaned forward, hope flickering in her eyes. “Perhaps now you can?”

Maz smiled faintly, “We’ll see. Maybe this time the Gods will be gracious enough to grant me a glimpse.”

Reaching into her robes, Maz pulled out a small pouch filled with tiny seashells. It rattled softly as she tugged the strings to open it.

“Now, let’s begin, shall we?”

Rey’s entourage stopped near the mouth of a vast cave, the entrance to the holy shrines. 

She peeked through the hangings of her palanquin for a first glimpse of the temple. Outside, priests and priestesses stood in a solemn line, their faces serene as they prepared to welcome her. Rey wished they hadn’t gone to such lengths. It felt like an unnecessary fuss. Yet she knew they did it as a sign of deep respect for her family.

The palanquin was lowered to the ground, and Rey stepped out alongside Jess into the sweltering desert heat. The clear skies offered no respite as the relentless sun beat down on them. A gust of wind blew sand into their faces, sharp and biting. Rey pulled her shawl up around her nose and mouth, shielding herself as she made her way toward the High Priestess.

Her grandmother, the Queen Mother, had often told her stories of how their ancestors had carved the shrines deep within these ancient sandstone caves thousands of years ago. Rey had always admired the intricate rock carvings that adorned the cave entrance. The delicate patterns and sacred symbols were beautiful. 

“Welcome, Princess,” the High Priestess said, bowing respectfully to Rey.

With their guards posted at the entrance, Rey and her ladies made their way into the cave. The walls gleamed with polished sandstone and sunlight bounced off the walls, casting a warm glow on the pilgrims. But as they ventured deeper, the passage grew darker and narrower, splitting into different pathways, like the roots of an ancient tree. 

In the inner sanctum, bright sunlight poured through the skylight above, illuminating a golden canopy over statues of the Goddesses of the Sky and Earth. The magnificent sight made Rey’s heart ache, thinking of what was at stake and what had already been lost to them.

She and her ladies stepped forward, carrying offerings of milk, fruit, and gold, the most precious gifts they could present. 

“Jess, help me light the candles and the incense.”

Together, they set the flames dancing and soon the entire chamber was filled with the sweet, soothing scent of jasmine mingling with the warm glow of a hundred flickering candles.

With her hands clasped before her chest and eyes gently closed, Rey led the ladies in a series of prayers and songs passed down through generations.

Above them, the kind, smiling faces of the Goddesses seemed to watch over the ceremony.

Slowly, Rey felt her soul begin to lift, rising beyond the temple walls, beyond Jakku itself. Perhaps it was the incense’s fragrance or the harmonious voices of her ladies. Whatever it was, peace and serenity enveloped her completely, just as it should.

But the serenity shattered. 

The ladies fell silent, eyes darting around as a breathless guard burst into the chamber.

“Princess, we must leave. Now!”

Rey’s temper flared. “What is it? Why do you disturb us?”

“Your Highness, you’re in danger,” the guard urged, voice tense. “A group of First Order troops is heading straight for the temple!”

Rey’s heart skipped a beat. She rose from the ground just as one of her ladies screamed and burst into tears.

“Be quiet!” Rey commanded sharply. “I will have no panic!”

Though even as she said it, her own pulse thundered with growing dread.

She turned to the guard. “Gather my ladies and lead them through the back passage. The priests will show you the way. The troops won’t know of that route and they won’t think to follow.”

“What about you, my lady?” the guard asked, concerned.

Rey held out her hand. “Give me your sword.”

Queen Adah sat silently, watching as Maz Kanata waved her hand repeatedly over the scattered seashells strewn across the courtyard floor. Impatience stirred within her, but she clung to hope. She was sure she would hear something favorable about Rey. How could it be otherwise?

She and the King had been delighted when they had been approached by the Prince of Coruscant. He had seen Rey at the spring festival last year and had been captivated by her beauty and spirit. 

Such an advantageous match was impossible to refuse. 

The Queen would share the news with Rey tonight.

Maz Kanata suddenly straightened, wiping her eyes before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Your Majesty… I’m afraid…” she began, her voice faltering.

The Queen’s jaw tightened.

“No. Not this time. Please, tell me something, anything!” she pleaded.

Maz Kanata’s eyes hardened.

“Very well,” she said at last. “Your Majesty, I see something in your daughter’s future, something great, but perilous. It is inevitable, and nothing you do can change her destiny.”

The Queen stared in silence, her breath caught.

Maz Kanata continued, her voice grave. “She will not find the belonging she seeks among her own people, nor among those who share her faith.”

“What do you mean?” the Queen asked, taken aback.

“The one she will share her life with,” Maz said slowly, “is a great conqueror, a powerful ruler born in the North, who will one day descend upon these lands and claim them as his own.”

Queen Adah felt as if the ground beneath her was giving way, the breath knocked clean from her lungs. 

Maz Kanata had not spoken the man’s name, but it hung over them like an executioner’s sword.

“No… that’s impossible!” she croaked. “My daughter is already betrothed to a prince of Coruscant!”

Maz’s voice was calm but firm. “The gods work in mysterious ways, Your Majesty.”

The Queen’s eyes flashed with anger as she turned to Maz.

“No… not the Gods. It’s you. You are a liar!”

Her voice rose, echoing through the hall.

“How dare you come into our palace and poison us with your lies!”

“Your Majesty, I…”

The Queen took a deep breath, steadying herself. She swallowed hard, straightened her posture, and spoke with measured calm.

“I’m afraid I must ask you to leave now.”

Maz Kanata didn’t say another word. It wasn’t in her nature to argue with anyone, least of all an angry queen. She gathered her scattered shells and began to walk away.

But when she reached the great iron door, she paused, turned back, and drew herself to her full height. Her voice rang out, strong and clear.

“It matters not if you don’t believe me, Your Majesty. I stand by my words. Your daughter’s fate is written in the stars, and neither you nor anyone else can change it.”

Maz took a steadying breath before continuing.

“There is one more thing. When your daughter returns home tonight, as the sun sets, she will not be carried in her palanquin. She will ride to your gates on horseback, sword bloodied in one hand and vengeance burning in her heart. Then you will know that I have spoken the truth, and all I have predicted today will come to pass.”

With that, she was gone, leaving the Queen standing alone, stunned and speechless.

Rey knew she had to ensure her ladies’ safety first. The closest they’d ever come to weapons were probably sewing needles. As a royal princess, Rey had the advantage of being trained with a sword. It was something usually reserved for princes. But her brothers had insisted on including her in their sparring matches from a young age, much to the disapproval of their mother.

The retinue, guided by a priestess, moved steadily to the back of the temple.

As the faint light ahead signaled the exit, Rey turned to the guard who had accompanied them.

“Get them out safely”

“What about you my lady?”

“I’ll come back I promise”

“But my lady, your father…”

“Do as I say and go!”

Rey turned sharply and bounded back toward the large circular chamber where they had been praying just minutes before.

She froze at the sound of shouting and the clash of metal. Her grip tightened around the sword as she peered inside.

Horror washed over her.

About ten men in dark robes were ransacking the chamber, greedily gathering the gold scattered across the floor. The golden canopy that once sheltered the Goddesses had been torn down, now crumpled. The statues lay face down on the tiled ground.

Outside, the clash of battle echoed, likely between her guard and the approaching First Order troops, and the men’s shouted cries carried clearly to where Rey was hidden.

Hearing the commotion, the looters hastily grabbed what they could and rushed out to join their comrades. 

Only one lingered near the fallen statues of the Goddesses, hesitating as if torn. But after a wary glance around, he too turned and fled.

Slowly and quietly, Rey followed them, her eyes filling with tears as she passed the spot where she had lit the candles and incense, now extinguished and trampled by the First Order troops. The tears blurred her vision as she stumbled through the winding passageways, finally emerging into the harsh glare of the afternoon sun.

Scattered across the bloodied sand lay the bodies of men, some lifeless, others wounded and struggling.

Her guard had pursued the enemy troops on horseback, riding down the rocky hillside where the battle still raged. The looters who had ravaged the temple now charged toward the fight, their plunder in tow.

Heart pounding, Rey scanned her surroundings, spotting one of their horses tied up nearby. She darted toward it, but just as her fingers brushed the reins, a voice rang out behind her.

“Well, what do we have here?”

Two First Order troopers on horseback loomed over her, their faces twisted into sneers.

Rey spun around, lifting her sword into a defensive stance.

The men exchanged a glance and burst out laughing.

Bastards

Without hesitation, she lunged. Steel met steel as her blade clashed with theirs, and suddenly she was fighting both at once.

They had the advantage of height, but Rey’s strikes were swift and fierce.

She was holding her own until a sharp kick to the chin sent her sprawling onto the ground. Dazed, she saw the glint of a sword raised above her, about to strike.

But the blow never landed.

A flash of steel blocked it just in time. Rey looked up, wide eyed, to see Jess standing over her, eyes blazing with fury.

“Jess?! What are you doing?” Rey cried.

“I promised your mother I’d stay by your side, Princess.” Jess said, breathless. 

One of the troopers growled in frustration. “We’re wasting time here, fighting women.”

He withdrew his sword and wheeled his horse around, galloping off toward the battle below.

The other stayed behind, leering at Jess.

“Well, I don’t plan to leave without a souvenir,” he sneered.

With a swift, brutal motion, he struck. Jess was disarmed in an instant. 

Rey reached out from the ground, trying to grab Jess’s legs, but she wasn’t strong enough. The trooper yanked a fistful of Jess’s hair and hauled her onto his horse as she kicked and screamed.

“No! Jess!” Rey cried, struggling to her feet, her head still spinning from the fall.

She snatched up her sword, sprinted to the lone horse. In one fluid motion, she mounted and spurred the horse into a full gallop.

The trooper wasn’t far ahead. Jess’s resistance was making it difficult for him to gain speed. Rey closed the distance quickly, her focus razor-sharp, her fury burning.

Then, they clashed. 

Now it was a battle on horseback. Steel against steel, hooves pounding, their cries echoing across the desert.

With a cruel shove, the trooper pushed Jess off his horse. She hit the ground hard and was still.

A scream rose in Rey’s throat, her fury igniting like wildfire. She attacked with renewed force, her blade a blur of motion. But she was tiring fast. Every swing grew heavier, while the trooper fought with growing ease, his confidence swelling with each passing moment.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rey saw a dark blur approaching. Another rider. 

Rey braced herself, certain it was the end. Two against one. She would die here.

But the newcomer didn’t turn on her.

He struck the other trooper.

Steel flashed in the sunlight as he sliced across the man’s chest. The wounded trooper barely had time to register his shock before his horse reared violently, throwing him to the ground. He landed with a sickening thud.

“He’s dead,” said the man who had just saved Rey’s life.

Rey turned to him, recognizing him as the one who had hesitated before the fallen statues in the temple. Now he stood motionless, his sword lowered, his gaze fixed on her, eyes fearful.

Without a word, she turned her horse around and rushed back to Jess, who lay motionless in the sand. Her heart caught in her throat as she placed a trembling hand on her friend’s bloody forehead, until she saw the slow rise and fall of her chest. 

She was alive, just unconscious.

In the distance, the thunder of hooves. A group of riders appeared, galloping toward them. At the front was Poe Dameron, commander of her father’s guard.

As they reached the scene, several soldiers quickly surrounded the lone trooper, weapons raised. He didn’t resist. His sword hanging limply at his side.

“That man saved my life!” Rey shouted, rising to her feet.

Poe gave her a brief glance, his expression unreadable.

“He’s still an enemy,” he said coldly. 

Rey turned again to the trooper as the guards closed in around him.

“What’s your name?” she asked, her voice steady but curious.

He hesitated, his eyes flicking between her and the men with weapons drawn.

Finally, in a quiet, hollow voice, he answered,

“Finn. My name’s Finn.”

Later, as the wounded were tended to and the dead gathered with care, Rey stood alone outside the temple. Her loose hair was caked with sand, tossed by the wind, and her torn robes whipped around her like banners of war.

She still gripped her sword, its blade streaked with blood; mingling with her own, dripping slowly from a cut along her forearm.

But she didn’t feel the pain.

All she felt was rage.

The First Order had stolen from their Goddesses. They had defiled sacred ground. 

“Kylo Ren,” Rey breathed, the name venom on her tongue.

She knelt and scooped up a fistful of desert sand. As she rose, she let it slip through her fingers, the wind carrying it like a whispered oath.

“I swear,” she said, her voice low and fierce, “by every grain of sand in this desert, and by the blood of my ancestors, Goddess, I will avenge you.”

Her eyes burned with fury as she lifted her sword.

“Kylo Ren will pay with his life. And the next time I enter this temple… I will bring you his head.”

The Jakku sunset bathed the desert in a wash of crimson light and the sky deepened into the color of blood.

Queen Adah was on the high wall of the Nima Fortress, Jakku’s last line of defense against invaders. Her gaze swept across the waves of sand dunes, her heart pounding.

Maz Kanata’s words still echoed in her mind, taunting her with dread. It’s not true, she told herself. It can’t be true.

Her daughter was strong. Rey would return safely, unchanged,  just like she had every year. She had to.

Still… the sun was sinking fast. And Rey had not come.

“Look!” cried a palace guard beside her, pointing toward the horizon. “I think that might be them!”

Out of the settling dust rode Rey, at the head of the group, astride a horse like a warrior from legend. Her hair was wild around her face, its color nearly indistinguishable from the windswept sand. In one hand, she held a sword, its blade stained red.

Queen Adah felt the breath leave her body. She stood frozen, transfixed by the sight.

Below, the group halted at the gates.

Rey looked up.

Their eyes met.

And in that moment, Queen Adah saw something she would never forget. An untamed, feral rage burning in her daughter’s face, raw and terrible as a desert storm.

Chapter Text

Naboo

The Emperor’s harem was an empire unto itself.

It was home to thousands of women. A few were his wives, while others were prisoners of war or the widows of kings and princes whose lands had fallen under his rule.

Sprawled across an entire wing of the imperial palace, it was a labyrinth of opulence with polished marble halls scented with jasmine and oud and silken drapes swaying like ghosts in the heat. Music drifted faintly through corridors where no men but eunuchs dared tread.

It was a kingdom ruled by women, but watched by eyes loyal to the throne. Servants moved quietly, trained to listen without hearing, to see without ever meeting a gaze.

To outsiders, it was a gilded prison.

To some within, it was a fortress.

To the Emperor, it was a symbol of power. But also the loneliness that came with it, because of all the women housed behind those high, painted walls, there was only one he ever visited.

Phasma.

The harem was home to the Dowager Empress Leia Organa.  But it was also the home of the Emperor’s first wife, Phasma, the most powerful woman in the empire.  

At this moment, Phasma reclined gracefully in a spacious marble bath in the glorious bathhouse of the harem. Her many attendants moved around her with practiced care, gently massaging turmeric paste blended with milk, honey, and rose oil into her long, pale limbs.

Fragrant rose water was used to cleanse her hair, and Khema, her favorite servant girl, fed her grapes and dried fruits, delicate and attentive.

Soft flute music floated through the air, mingling with the cheerful chatter of the young serving women bustling about.

It was a display fit for an empress.

Phasma lifted one slender leg, watching as water and rose petals cascaded gracefully down its smooth curve. On days like this, when no pressing matters demanded her attention, she would spend hours in the bathhouse being massaged, primped and preened.

As the Emperor’s first wife, she needed to look impeccable, incomparable. 

In the harem, nothing stirred without Phasma’s knowledge. Her word was law, unquestioned and absolute.

She leaned back, eyes closed, as firm hands kneaded her shoulders. The gentle flute music and lively chatter of the servants faded into the background. 

Not that she noticed.

But when the smaller hands were suddenly replaced by larger, stronger ones, her eyes snapped open.

She knew that touch.

“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten all about me!” Phasma said, turning her head toward him with a sly smile.

“I’ve been busy,” Kylo Ren murmured, his voice low.

Phasma turned back, leaning into his touch. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order for your success at Yavin and Hoth.”

“Hmm”

She smirked. “Since I helped plan your strategy, I’m curious, what share of the spoils do you think I’m entitled to?”

Kylo Ren smirked.

“I knew you’d ask about your share. With you, everything comes at a price, doesn’t it?”

Phasma flicked a splash of water playfully into his face.

“My services always come with a price, Your Majesty.”

Kylo Ren leaned in and whispered something in her ear that made Phasma’s eyes widen in surprise.

After he rose and left, she flapped her arms in the bath, sending water splashing onto the floor, a gleeful smile lighting up her face.

Rising from the bath, she called out to Khema,

“Bring me my robe!”

With that, she laughed, her voice echoing through the halls as she strode confidently to the lounge. Now, truly, she was the most powerful woman in the empire.

General Snoke entered the Emperor’s council chamber to find him bent over a map, deep in concentration.

“You summoned me, Your Majesty?” 

Kylo Ren looked up and rose from the table.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “I’ve made a decision regarding the leadership of the Yavin province.”

Snoke’s heart quickened. This was the moment he had been waiting for weeks. He knew from the start that Yavin’s wealth would be his and with it, the flow of taxes into his coffers.

“I’m giving it to Phasma,” Kylo Ren announced.

Snoke’s heart sank. 

He forced a tight smile, masking the storm of anger brewing inside. He should have expected this. Women were dangerous indeed.

“So?” Kylo Ren challenged. “What do you think?”

Snoke blinked, composing himself.

Despite everything, he still needed Snoke’s approval. This time, his smile was genuine. The fact that Kylo Ren still trusted him was a small comfort. The game wasn’t over yet.

“I wholeheartedly agree with your decision, your majesty.” Snoke lied.

He needn’t have worried that the disappointment was showing on his face because moments later, there was a thunderous knock on the chamber door.

Outside, a trooper was requesting permission to enter. When called in, Snoke recognized him immediately. It was one of the men he had sent to Jakku to ransack the shrines. He looked shaken and grimy, streaks of dried blood smudged across his face.

Kylo Ren's eyes narrowed.

Snoke’s heart gave a small jolt.  “What in God’s name happened to you, man?” he asked lightly, though his voice carried an edge. 

The trooper opened his mouth, then hesitated, catching Snoke’s gaze. He swallowed hard.

“Jakku…the Shrines. There was… resistance, sir. Locals were more… protective than anticipated. We tried to hold position, but it got out of control. There was a Princess…”

Kylo’s expression darkened. “I thought I forbade that raid. And you desecrated a sacred temple in the presence of royalty?”

Snoke stepped in quickly, voice calm but clipped. “It was a regrettable miscalculation, Majesty. I issued the recall. But by then, some of the men had already engaged. Isn’t that so, trooper?”

“Yes, General. That’s…that’s right.” The trooper added, more softly.

Kylo’s eyes remained locked on the trooper. “How many dead?”

The man hesitated. “Seven of ours. The Jakku guard fought hard...”

“And what of the princess?” Kylo’s voice was like ice. “Who is she?”

“The Princess. She’s the only daughter of the King of Jakku… and…and she was incredible,” the trooper breathed, seizing the opportunity for a distraction. “She was like a beauty from an ancient painting. A face like the moon, lips like lotus petals and her eyes…like the eyes of a gazelle.”

“For goodness sake, this is no time for poetry…” Snoke hissed, but Kylo raised a hand to silence him.

“Continue.”

The soldier didn’t need to be told twice.

“If I had all the gold in the world I’d trade every coin just to see her again.” he said, eyes wide. “And she can fight like nothing I’ve ever seen. Like a warrior. She didn’t run. She didn’t scream. She stood her ground.” He paused, lowering his gaze. “And she was... radiant. Even in blood and sand.”

Kylo Ren took a step back, as if to fully absorb the picture the man was painting. His gaze dropped to the floor, then slowly lifted again, sharp and calculating.

Snoke watched him like a hawk before trying to reclaim the moment. “Majesty, with all due respect, we cannot allow ourselves to be distracted by desert fantasies. She’s the daughter of an enemy…”

“An enemy who stood her ground,” Kylo interrupted, his voice low. “While our men fled.”

Snoke fell silent. The air was thick with tension again, but it was different now, no longer the rage of an emperor betrayed. An old, experienced man, Snoke recognized it all too well.

“She’s not afraid of us,” Kylo murmured. “Not afraid of me.”

That night, Kylo Ren tossed and turned in his sleep in the midst of a turbulent dream.

He was fifteen again, the clash of steel and the roar of war all around him as he stood alone before Sidious. The weight of the empire pressed down on his slender shoulders and the sword in his hands felt too heavy for a boy. 

Then, the dream shifted. 

He was five, standing in the palace courtyard, watching his parents ride away, their silhouettes swallowed by the mist. His tiny fists clenched, and tears streaming down his cheeks.

Then he saw her.

Or perhaps it was her, he couldn’t be sure. A radiant face glowing with ethereal light, eyes like a gazelle’s, soft and knowing, looking down at him where he knelt at her feet. But she was not whole. She was a shadow, a whisper, a ghost of the real woman.

Something was missing.

He reached for her, but just before his fingers touched the edge of her robes, she vanished into light. 

He woke with a start. 

Breath ragged, heart pounding and naked body drenched in sweat, Kylo Ren pushed aside the heavy silken sheets and rose from his bed. His magnificent chamber, draped and lined in gold seemed menacing in the shadowy silence. He stepped barefoot onto the cold marble floor, pulling on a light, silk dressing gown. The soft fabric kissed his skin as he crossed to the balcony, craving the comfort of the moonlight.

The air was cooler there and the dark night stretched before him, the sky ablaze with stars. A faint scent of jasmine wafted up from the lower gardens.

He had chosen to sleep in his own bed tonight, avoiding the harem. Yet he found no peace in his own chamber.

She was still with him.

Her gaze, fierce yet sorrowful. Her voice, though imagined, felt real. Her defiance, her beauty was not merely something out of a dream. 

She was real. 

And she was something more. A challenge. A promise. A threat.

Kylo Ren narrowed his eyes at the stars, as if the answers were written there.

He didn’t even know her name.

But he knew what he had to do.

He had to see her. In person.

But how?

The answer settled in his chest like a stone. He would have to go to Jakku. 

Alone.

It was foolish. Reckless. Dangerous.

And it felt so entirely right.

Snoke would never approve such a journey, not for a woman, not for anything so…personal. But this had nothing to do with reason, or logic. Something was pulling like a thread wound tightly around his soul. He had to follow it.

Kylo Ren sprang into action. In the darkness, he woke the guard posted outside his chambers.

“Ready my horse,” he said, voice low but firm.

The guard blinked, startled, but obeyed. Inside, Kylo threw together a small silk sack adding in some food, a flask and a change of clothes. At the stables, he handed the sack to the stable boy and pulled off his ornate tunic.

“Give me your clothes,” he ordered.

Within minutes, the Emperor was dressed in the coarse linen of a servant. He wound a turban over his head and draped a loose scarf around his face so that only his eyes remained visible.

“You may inform General Snoke in the morning that I’ve gone on pilgrimage,” he told the guard and stable boy, who could only stare, wide-eyed and speechless. 

“But say nothing of where.”

Then, without another word, he mounted the horse and rode into the desert night, guided by moonlight and longing.

Chapter Text

Jakku

Rey sat before the large, gold-framed mirror in her room, staring at her reflection without really seeing it. The soft light of the setting sun spilled through the latticed windows, casting delicate patterns across the marble floor. But inside her, everything felt still.

Behind her, Jess worked patiently, gently combing out knots in Rey’s long hair. The strokes were slow and soothing, almost lulling, until Jess leaned around, her eyes sparkling as she caught Rey’s gaze in the mirror.

“Aren’t you excited?” she asked with a grin. “It’s your betrothal ceremony!”

Rey tried to smile. After tonight, she would be as good as married and would finally lay eyes on her future husband. Not that it was truly the first time. They had met at the spring festival the year before, when he had followed her around like a lost puppy, much to her thinly veiled irritation.

Still, her father had given her his word that the prince was a kind, respectful, loving young man. But to Rey, a loving man was only half a man. He had to be strong. A man worthy of her hand would fight for his kingdom, protect his people, and defend his faith without hesitation. He had to be willing to die for what he believed in.

Her mother had barely spoken to her since the day she returned from the shrines. Rey sometimes wondered if it was because she was still angry. 

But no, surely not that angry. 

Her mother had never been one to hold back her disapproval; she never missed an opportunity to chastise Rey when she stepped out of line. And if anything warranted a lecture about that day, it was the scene Rey had made riding back into Nima on horseback, covered in dirt and blood.

But instead of fury, there had been only silence. Her mother had just stood there, pale as a ghost, words failing her.

Neither Rey nor Jess spoke of what happened on Rey’s birthday. Though their wounds had begun to heal, the memory still lingered. There was no need to speak of it. They both remembered enough. 

“Poe Dameron came to see me this morning,” Jess said matter-of-factly.

“Oh?”

“He wants to talk to you after the ceremony. It’s about that First Order prisoner.”

“Why are you whispering?” Rey asked. “And alright, tell him to come see me tonight.”

Jess clicked her tongue. “What if your mother’s set spies on us? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she’s been acting really strange since we got back from…”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Rey interrupted, waving a hand.

Jess sighed. “I’ll make sure Poe gets the message.”

With that, she stood and clapped her hands. 

A line of ten serving girls entered the chamber, carrying clothes and jewelry, ready to begin the long ritual of transforming Rey into a bride fit for a prince.

“He’s definitely an outsider,” a woman whispered to her friend. “I’ve never seen him around here before.”

“A young merchant, perhaps? From another land,” the man next to her suggested.

“Oh, that’s no commoner,” said a younger man, stepping beside them. “Look at the way he carries himself. He’s noble blood, at the very least.”

The subject of their hushed curiosity stood about twenty feet away, quietly admiring a street stall that displayed reed baskets. He had a striking presence, being taller than most of the men in the crowd, with broad shoulders and powerful arms. Even in plain, dust-colored clothes, nothing about him was ordinary. His soft brown eyes moved across the market with quiet intent, taking everything in as if he were committing it all to memory. 

If he had hoped to blend in, he was failing miserably.

“Can I help you, sir?” asked the old woman at the basket stall, eyeing him curiously. “You look a bit lost.”

“Is it that obvious?” the stranger chuckled, his voice deep and warm. “Could you tell me why the streets are so festive today? Is there a celebration?”

Indeed, the streets of Nima were awash in color, silk flags fluttered in the breeze, musicians played at every corner, and children danced freely in the town square. The usual bustle had swelled with excitement, and market stalls overflowed with food, trinkets, and flowers.

“Ah, yes,” the old woman beamed. “Today is our Princess Rey’s betrothal ceremony.”

“Rey…” he echoed softly. “She’s betrothed?”

“To Prince Sahan of Coruscant,” she said, pride ringing in her voice. “They’ll be making an appearance at the town square in a few hours, if you care to wait.”

“Of course,” the young man replied.

He would wait all night if he had to.

The ceremony felt endless to Rey, who was weary beneath the weight of her ornate robes and sparkling jewelry. Beside her, her father gazed on proudly and even her mother managed a rare, gentle smile. 

When at last, the sacred rituals concluded, Rey and her betrothed were allowed a moment alone to speak.

“I hope you remember me… from last year,” he began, his voice tinged with nervousness.

“How could I forget?” she replied with a warm smile.

He beamed. 

The Prince was not much older than she was, with a handsome face and a gentle manner that made him easy to like. 

But Rey was not so easily charmed. 

She had agreed to the marriage out of duty. With the looming threat of the First Order and war casting its shadow over their lands, everyone was desperate for unity. 

She was desperate for an alliance

But for her, it was personal. She had vowed to the goddesses that she would take Kylo Ren’s life in retribution for the raid of the shrine, and she intended to keep that promise.

She glanced at the lanky boy beside her, doubt creeping in. Was he truly the perfect partner for the mission? 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, catching her gaze.

Rey smiled softly, eyes lowering shyly, playing the part of the bashful bride.

Just as he was about to speak again, King Prana stood from his throne.

“And now, the people of Jakku will meet their Prince and Princess!” he announced with a broad, proud smile.

Kylo Ren sat on the dusty pavement just on the edge of the bustling town square of Nima. If the old woman’s words were true, the princess would appear soon and he would finally see her.

He had wondered if anyone might recognize him. He overheard snippets of conversations about himself and the First Order, some amused him, others confused him. But his reputation certainly preceded him.

Spotting a few of Jakku’s royal guards patrolling the streets, he kept to the shadows, careful not to draw attention.

A few moments later, distant cheers drifted to Kylo Ren’s ears. Rising to his feet, he joined the growing crowd moving toward the large square. Though night had fallen, the streets were lined with towering torches, their flickering flames casting an eerie glow on the faces of the gathered townsfolk, rendering them ghostlike in the shadows.

A procession was slowly advancing down the road ahead. At its front rode a young man atop a handsome white horse, his golden cloak shimmering in the torchlight, a string of pearls draped elegantly around his neck. Kylo Ren guessed correctly that it must be the princess’s betrothed. The crowd erupted in cheers, scattering rose petals across the path before the horse’s hooves.

Behind him came a magnificent gold and red palanquin, borne by eight sturdy men. Kylo Ren’s gaze was fixed on its steady progress, moving instinctively alongside it as the crowd parted to make way. Through the sheer curtains, he glimpsed the delicate silhouette of a veiled head and the graceful profile of a woman. 

His heart quickened

At the center of the square, the prince dismounted his horse to another round of cheers. Kylo Ren’s eyes remained fixed as the prince approached the palanquin and carefully drew back the curtains. A small, bejeweled hand appeared first, which the prince took tenderly in his own. Then, as if stepping out of a dream, the young woman slowly emerged.

She was more beautiful than he had ever imagined. As she stood there adorned in finery, people called out congratulations and admiration. 

But Kylo Ren barely heard them.

He was captivated by her dazzling smile and glowing hazel eyes. The beast inside him stirred, aching to possess her, to hold her close and ride off into the desert with her. 

For a fleeting moment, he saw her as his own wife, his and his alone, imagining her fingers threading through his hair in the quiet of his chamber.

Suddenly, a group of children pushed him forward, jostling for a better view. He turned to scowl at them, but when he looked back, the prince and princess were already departing. The torches around the square flickered low, threatening to swallow the gathering in darkness.

No. He was not satisfied. He needed to see her closer.

After Rey and her prince returned to the palace, he kissed her hesitantly on the lips before retiring to the guest wing where his family was lodged. 

Once he was out of sight, Rey turned to the other ladies who had accompanied them.

“You can all go to bed. Jess will help me undress,” she said.

Gratefully, they obeyed.

Rey leaned close to Jess and whispered, “Go and get him. Bring him to the courtyard.”

Rey stepped quietly into the courtyard, gently removing the silk cloth from her head and wrapping its long folds around her arm. She slipped out her nose ring and settled by the edge of the pond, watching how its still waters mirrored the stars, the moon, and the ancient walls around her. 

The pond had been built by her three older brothers in an act of defiance after their mother refused to let her keep a pet as a child. They had filled it with vibrant fish brought back from their travels and turned it into a small oasis of color and life. 

Rey sighed softly. It was just one of many pieces of her past she would leave behind when she married.

Then, she sat up abruptly, eyes wide with surprise. Behind her, perched silently on the courtyard wall, sat a man. 

She froze, caught between fear and curiosity. In the pond’s shimmering reflection, she could make out his large frame, dark hair cascading in loose waves to his shoulders, and eyes, intense and shining. As she stared at his reflection, he mirrored her gaze, their eyes meeting across the rippling water like two souls locked in a silent conversation.

“Rey!”

Jess’s voice echoed as she hurried down the sandstone staircase, Poe Dameron close behind. Rey sprang to her feet from the pond’s edge and spun around to glance up at the wall where the man was. But there was nothing. He had vanished.

“What is it?” Jess asked, noticing the worry etched across Rey’s face.

“Nothing,” Rey replied, forcing calm into her voice. “It was nothing.”

She turned toward Poe, her expression steadying.

“You wished to speak with me about the prisoner?”

“Yes, my lady,” Poe answered.

Handsome and admired by all the ladies, Poe was known for his bravery and loyalty. Rey respected him deeply, as did her father, who had entrusted him as captain of the royal guard.

“He wants to speak with you.”

“With me?” Rey echoed, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

“He says there’s something important he wants to tell you,” Poe explained quietly. “He wouldn’t tell me what it was, but rest assured, I’m the only one who knows about this.”

“Didn’t anyone interrogate him?” Rey asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Of course,” Poe replied. “But we went easy on him, at your request, and he had nothing to say then.”

Rey fell silent for a moment. What could a First Order trooper possibly want to say to her? Why choose her and not the Captain of the Guard? 

A spark of excitement flickered inside her, maybe it had to do with the First Order’s military plans.

“All right, we’re going right now,” Rey said decisively.

“Right now?! It’s the middle of the night!” Jess exclaimed, eyes wide. “And how will it look if someone catches you sneaking into the prisons to talk to an enemy prisoner? What if your mother finds out?”

“It’s fine, my lady,” Poe interrupted smoothly. “I am the Captain of the Guard, after all. I can get you both in without anyone noticing.”

He gave Jess a playful wink, and she rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” she sighed, “if you insist.”

Kylo Ren moved silently along the now-empty streets of Nima. Sneaking into the palace had been a reckless gamble, but seeing her, startling her, made it all worthwhile. He smiled to himself, recalling the shock on her face.

Up ahead, the heavy tread of boots echoed down the road. Two royal soldiers were approaching, their gear clinking with the weight of weapons. Kylo slipped between two empty vendor stalls and melted into the shadows.

“I won’t be getting home tonight. Prison duty,” one soldier muttered.

“Yeah, I heard that First Order trooper still isn’t talking.”

“If it were up to me, I’ve got a hundred ways to make him talk,” the other replied. “But apparently the Princess insisted he not be harmed.”

As their footsteps faded into the darkness, Kylo Ren stepped from his hiding spot, his mind racing. A First Order trooper in enemy hands? But how?

That trooper was one of his own. He couldn’t simply walk away knowing a man from his ranks was captive. In an instant, his resolve hardened. He was going back.

Chapter Text

Naboo

Even though it was well past midnight, Snoke poured himself another glass of wine, savoring the calm before the storm. 

The morning after the Emperor’s sudden disappearance from the palace, Snoke was informed by the guard posted outside Kylo Ren’s chambers that he had ridden alone to Jakku.

Later that day, Snoke and General Hux convened to discuss the situation.

“Why on earth would he travel all the way to Jakku by himself?” Hux asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and suspicion. He stroked his chin thoughtfully before turning to Snoke with a spark of cunning in his eyes.

“I see an opportunity,” he said smoothly. “We can dispatch our forces to Jakku and claim it was out of concern for his security.”

Snoke smiled. “Of course, then all we have to do is attract their attention and war with Jakku will be inevitable”

“What about the emperor?” Hux asked

“He can take care of himself. Though he may act like a fool half the time he is cleverer than he seems” Snoke waved his hand “and I’m sure he will find you”

Hux had left with his men the same afternoon. He could not wait another day. In the case of Jakku, there was no need for the Emperor’s direct intervention. 

He need not even be informed.

Kylo Ren had always dismissed Jakku as a trivial prize, arguing that once the larger neighboring kingdoms fell, Jakku would inevitably surrender without the need for bloodshed. But the General was determined: Jakku would be a military conquest, and the moment to strike was now.

Snoke was so lost in thought that he barely registered the arrival of his page at the chamber door.

“Sir?”

Snoke spun around, his eyes narrowed. “Yes, what is it?”

“Sir, the Dowager Empress has arrived and wishes to speak with you.”

“Send Her Majesty in,” Snoke replied without hesitation.

The woman was granted entry, and as she stepped inside, her slight frame belied the formidable presence that instantly filled the chamber. Proud and imposing, Leia Organa’s eyes sharpened with steely resolve as they locked onto Snoke.

“Your Majesty,” Snoke said smoothly, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your company at this late hour?”

Leia’s voice was cold, edged with barely concealed disdain. “I have come to ask after my son. Since he spends so much time with you, perhaps you can tell me where he is. I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

Snoke inclined his head in a mocking bow. “Your Majesty, I cannot reveal the Emperor’s whereabouts, but rest assured, he will come to no harm.”

Leia closed her eyes briefly, gritting her teeth. When she opened them again, her gaze was sharp and resolute. “Then perhaps he is safer away from home. I pray he never returns.”

Snoke’s smile was thin and chilling. “Pray all you want, Your Majesty. But remember this: your son is where he is today because of me.”

A sad, knowing smile flickered across Leia’s face. “How could I ever forget?”

She took a single step forward, the heavy folds of her gown trailing like a shadow.

“You think you made him,” she said quietly, “but you only carved a weapon from the boy I once held in my arms.”

Snoke’s eyes glittered with amusement. “And yet, he came to me willingly. What does that say about what you offered him?”

Leia’s hand tightened around the folds of her shawl.

For a moment, they stood in silence. Two rulers, two parents, locked in a battle far older than their children. 

Then Leia turned to leave.

“When the storm you’ve summoned finally turns on you,” she said, pausing in the doorway, “don’t expect him to save you. Not even a weapon stays loyal forever.”

Jakku

Poe Dameron led the two young women down the stone steps at the rear of the palace. The prisons lay just beyond the walls of Nima Fortress, which enclosed both the royal grounds and the town itself. Prisoners in Jakku were kept in simple, cage-like cells under open sky. Most were petty thieves or drunkards caught brawling in taverns. Jakku was a peaceful kingdom, and serious crimes were rare. The only true exception tonight was the lone outsider: the First Order trooper.

Rey’s feet sank into the sand as she stepped off the stone steps. Her ceremonial outfit weighed heavily on her, and the dark cloak Poe had thrown over her glittering clothes and jewelry only added to the burden. She silently cursed herself for not changing into something lighter, something she could actually breathe in. But she couldn’t lose a moment. 

“Now, there’s no need to be afraid, my lady,” Poe said, glancing back at Rey with a reassuring smile. “But if you are, just know I’ll be right beside you.”

“Nonesense!” Rey shot back, her voice tinged with exasperation. “I’ll be fine”

“Ah,” Poe chuckled, his smile deepening as a memory surfaced. “I almost forgot how you fought two armed soldiers all on your own”

The First Order trooper’s cell was the most heavily guarded. Poe motioned for Rey and Jess to stay hidden behind the adjacent cell as he approached the guards and quietly dismissed them. Once they were out of sight, he beckoned the girls forward.

Rey didn’t hesitate, her curiosity urged her on. But Jess moved more cautiously, as if she were approaching the cage of a dangerous animal. Inside the dimly lit cell, the figure of the trooper crouched in the corner, swallowed by shadows. 

He stirred and rose from the shadows, stepping slowly into the flickering torchlight. His face was bruised, his uniform torn, but his eyes glowed with quiet urgency.

“You’re in danger,” he said, voice low and certain. “Your kingdom is in danger.”

Rey stepped closer to the bars. “Tell me,” she said, her voice low. 

His gaze returned to hers, steady now.

“There’s going to be an attack ,” he said. “Before I was called away to raid the shrines… I was stationed in the Unknown Regions with General Hux’s battalion.” He paused, choosing his next words with care. “Hux is planning a surprise attack on Jakku. He’s just waiting for the right opportunity.”

A cold wind seemed to blow through Rey’s chest. 

The Unknown Regions? 

That stretch of wilderness had always been cloaked in superstition and spoken of in hushed tones, as a realm haunted by spirits and misfortune. But now, it wasn’t ghosts they had to fear. It was the First Order.

Jess gasped softly behind her.

Rey’s expression didn’t change, but a storm had started behind her eyes. 

“Are you sure?”

“I heard it myself. The plan was already in motion before I was sent to the shrine. The attack is coming. Hux wants to catch you off guard.”

“Of course,” Rey muttered, her voice sharp with disgust. “They’re going to attack us while our backs are turned, like cowards.”

“And Hux… is not like the Emperor,” the trooper said, his voice dropping to a grim whisper. “He takes no prisoners. No mercy. No survivors.”

Her mind flashed to her father, her mother, her brothers, the people in the palace and the crowded city that had just smiled and congratulated her. And then she saw it: the fires, the screaming, the sacred places turned to rubble.

Rey’s brow furrowed. “Why are you telling us this?” she asked.

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” He held her gaze. “And I want no part of it anymore. Not after what I’ve seen…what I’ve done…and…”

He didn’t say You saved me, but the words hung there between them.

Rey’s thoughts raced to that moment in the temple, the hesitation in his sword, the way he turned against his own comrade to protect her. The way he looked at the goddesses before everything descended into chaos. 

She straightened her spine, drawing in a slow, steadying breath. Just minutes ago, she’d been excited; eager for secrets, for strategy, for a glimpse into the First Order’s next move. But now, that excitement had curdled into something colder. Panic. Dread.

“I have to tell my father…” she said, already turning to go.

“No, my lady,” Poe cut in, firm and calm. “You and Jess should return to the palace. I’ll go to the King.”

Rey hesitated, then nodded. Poe was right. She glanced at Jess, who stood pale and wide eyed beside her. 

“Let’s go,” Rey murmured.

But before she left, something made her pause. She turned back to the cell, back to the shadowy figure watching her with quiet intensity.

“Thank you, Finn,” she said softly.

The trooper’s face lit up. For the first time since she had met him, he smiled. 

She had remembered his name.

Kylo Ren had trailed one of the soldiers he’d overheard in the streets, shadowing him all the way to the modest prison complex outside Nima Fortress. Compared to the fortified dungeons of his empire, this one looked almost laughably small. But then again, so was Jakku.

He waited in silence, cloaked in shadow, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The soldier was changing into his uniform nearby, muttering to himself as he buckled his belt. As he stepped closer to where Kylo lay in wait. 

It took only a breath, a blur of movement. 

Kylo struck, grabbing the man from behind and dragging him into the darkness.

A swift blow with the hilt of his sword and the soldier slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Without hesitation, he stripped the man and donned the uniform. The fit was a bit little snug, but passable. He fastened the final clasp, adjusted the helmet to cover his eyes and emerged from the shadows, just another Jakku guard, lost in the night.

But he realized, rather belatedly, that he had no idea where he was supposed to go. He had assumed it would be easy. This was a small, poorly guarded prison, after all. How hard could it be to find one lone First Order prisoner?

But after circling the compound more than once, he was completely lost.

Just then, movement caught his eye. A small group was approaching along the sandy pathway. He pressed himself against the sandstone wall, hand resting lightly on his sword, adopting the posture of a guard on duty.

Their voices drifted toward him, lowered but audible in the silence. 

“…If Kylo Ren is really planning an attack on Jakku, spies of the neighbouring kingdoms would have heard by now…”

The sound of his own name made his head snap up. 

He glanced over, just enough to see who was speaking. His heart gave an unexpected jolt.

It was her.

The Princess.

And she wasn’t alone. two others flanked her, a man and a young woman. What in the stars was she doing here, wandering the prison yard in the dead of night?

He strained to listen, not daring to move a muscle.

“Oh, let him come,” The Princess said. “If terrorizing small kingdoms is how the monster Kylo Ren gains his power, then he’s just a pathetic coward in a crown.”

The words hit him like a blade to the gut.

Kylo Ren’s eyes widened, stunned. Her? 

These were the words of the woman he had crossed deserts to see, the woman whose face had haunted his dreams. And yet here she was, speaking of him like he was a lowlife. 

The anger came first, swift and sharp. Then bitterness followed, curling hot in his chest like smoke from a slow-burning fire.

“The alliance with Coruscant couldn’t have come at a better time,” the man beside her added. “We can’t fight this alone.”

“Yes,” Rey replied, her voice hard with resolve, “if we stand together, we would have no difficulty bringing down the First Order and finishing Kylo Ren.”

Finishing him.

He remained still, his pride wounded, but his jaw clenched. So this was what she thought of him. 

A tyrant. A monster.

He forced himself to stillness, pressing his back into the sandstone wall, willing himself to be just another silent guard in the dark.

The three figures drew closer. Too close.

He held his breath.

Please, just walk past.

Relief flooded through him as they did. 

Until the princess slowed, her steps faltering.

She turned her head, gaze sweeping the shadows… and then her eyes locked onto his.

Even in the faint torchlight, he saw the flash of realization.

Her mouth parted slightly. 

And then, it happened all too fast.

With a suddenness that caught him off guard, she reached beneath her skirt. Before he could react, she had drawn a blade, small but wickedly sharp, and in two swift strides, she was on him.

The dagger pressed hard against his throat, her face inches from his.

“Who are you?” she demanded, voice low and fierce. “And why are you following me?”

Rey’s gaze flicked to the edge of her vision, catching a movement she couldn’t ignore. Not just a shadow, but someone. 

Her heart skipped. 

She recognized him instantly. The man who had sat on the courtyard wall… only now he wore a guard’s uniform.

Without hesitation, she drew her dagger in one swift, practiced motion, pressing the cold blade firmly against his throat.

“Who are you, and why are you following me?!” 

For a moment, his eyes blazed with something fierce and unreadable.

Then, almost teasingly, he replied, “I’m not quite sure what you mean.” 

His gaze flicked down to the blade at his throat, and with a faint smirk, he added, “Your Highness.”

Rey snorted, a mischievous glint in her eye. “You’ve been trailing me the entire time. You know what I think?” She leaned in closer, voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “I think you’re spying on me.”

The man’s eyes flickered with amusement. “And why would I spy on you?”

“Good question,” Rey replied, her tone shifting to a mockingly high pitch. “What were you doing perched on my courtyard wall?”

“I have no idea what Your Highness is talking about.” The man shrugged, “I’m just a lowly soldier doing his job.”

Rey’s smile turned sharper. “Or maybe… you’re an enemy spy.” She raised an eyebrow, daring him. 

Kylo Ren felt the cold steel of the dagger pressing deeper into his skin; one more inch and blood would flow. Pain was nothing new to him.He had faced worse. But this woman had him trapped, pinned against the wall like prey. Any sudden move to disarm her risked exposing him.

In that moment, the proud warrior felt like a fool, ruled by his emotions rather than his training. Snoke’s lessons echoed sharply in his mind.

Control

Patience

Strength.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” he said smoothly, “I was acting under your father’s orders. I’ve been assigned to protect you.”

Jess, barely able to contain her excitement, whispered, “I knew it!”

“I know of no such order,” Poe said sharply, his brow furrowing as he stepped forward. “And I don’t recognize you.”

Kylo Ren met his gaze steadily. “You wouldn’t know me. I was hired in secrecy. Pardon me, Your Highness. I’ll leave now if you don’t require my services.”

Rey studied him closely, suspicion tightening her chest. She was convinced this was all her mother’s doing; spies planted to watch her every move, just as Jess had warned. Slowly, she withdrew the dagger from his throat. but a new unease settled over her. 

“Don’t tell my mother you saw me out here,” Rey said, her voice dropping to a sheepish whisper.

“I won’t,” the man replied, his tone low and steady.

The three of them turned and made their way up the lane together, while Kylo Ren slipped silently in the opposite direction. He’d escaped, for now. But there was no time to linger.

He had to find the trooper.

Finn blinked, unsure if the flickering torchlight was playing tricks on him. But no, it was the Emperor. Here, in the prison yard, dressed as a common guard. His heart pounded as he pressed himself closer to the bars. The guards were nowhere to be seen.

“Your Majesty?” he whispered again, hardly believing it.

Kylo Ren raised a gloved finger to his lips. His eyes, sharp and urgent, left no room for questions.

“I’m going to get you out,” he murmured. “Hold on.”

The night was deadly still. 

Then, Finn was free. 

Now, he and the Emperor were thundering across the dunes on stolen horses, the golden sands of Jakku vanishing behind them with every gallop. 

When the flickering lights of the city had long disappeared and the desert lay still around them, Finn raised a hand. 

“Wait,” he called.

Kylo Ren brought his horse to a halt.

“There’s something you need to know,” Finn said.

Kylo fixed him with that intense, unreadable stare.

“General Hux is planning a full-scale attack on Jakku. Soon. He knows you’d never approve, so he’s doing it in secret. He thinks Jakku’s small enough to take easily, and  no one would notice until it’s too late. He’s already assembling troops in the Unknown Region”

Still, Kylo didn’t speak. The only sound was the wind curling through the dunes around them. Finn looked down, exhaling shakily. The words had left him, but the fear hadn’t. He had thrown the truth at the feet of a man who could crush him for it.

Then, at last, Kylo Ren spoke. His voice was low and cold.

“He thinks I’m distracted.”

Kylo’s eyes lifted toward the horizon, hard and unreadable. “Then I’ll give him a war he won’t forget.”

Finn stared in stunned silence. War with Jakku was the one thing he had hoped to prevent. 

“Change of plans,” Kylo Ren said, his voice low but resolute. “We’re going to the Unknown Regions.”

Finn looked resigned. He nevertheless nodded and turned his horse. He was glad he had warned the Princess. Now they knew what was coming. And he wasn’t going to flee…not just yet. There was still work to be done. 

Kylo lingered, his eyes lifting to the sky. The stars above Jakku shimmered like scattered embers across the deep velvet of night. For a long moment, he simply stared, mesmerized by the stillness, the beauty. Maybe Jakku wasn’t the desolate dust heap he had once dismissed. Maybe, under different circumstances, it could be something else. 

Something his.

His jaw tightened. The sting at his throat where her blade had kissed his skin, throbbed. 

“Well, Princess,” he muttered, his voice hardening, fists clenched, “you want to see me fall… but let’s see how your army fares against the full might of mine.”

Chapter Text

Jakku

The streets of Nima, once alive with music, color, and laughter, now lay quiet and somber. 

Just a week ago, lanterns danced in the wind and children skipped through market lanes. Now, silence clung to every corner like a heavy shroud. 

Word of the impending attack had spread like wildfire.

Within the palace walls, the three young Princes of Jakku, once known for their revelry and mischief, were suiting up for war. Their father, the aging King Prana, had entrusted command of the royal army to his eldest son and heir, Prince Samm. And by Samm’s side would ride a new brother-in-arms, Prince Sahan of Coruscant. With a full legion of soldiers pledged to the alliance through marriage, he would ride not just for duty but to prove himself to his betrothed, the Princess of Jakku. 

In the quiet of her chambers, Rey knelt beside the small alcove where she kept an effigy of her goddess. She adjusted the offerings; fresh petals, a tiny clay lamp, a pinch of dried herbs, before folding her hands in prayer. With the men riding out to war, the women and children were left behind to keep vigil: long days of whispering prayers and sleepless nights preparing poultices and medicines for the wounded they knew would return.

If they returned at all.

The memory of her midnight visit to the First Order trooper haunted her. His cell had been found empty the next morning. She couldn’t stop replaying it. The warning, his eyes in the torchlight, his quiet urgency. And then he was gone.

What if it led back to her?

She was nervous about the spy as well. If he was truly reporting to her parents, all it would take was a single whisper, and everything would unravel. But no word had come. Poe Dameron, true to his oath, had said nothing. And the palace, for now, remained quiet.

Too quiet.

How had he escaped? The question gnawed at her. Had it all been a trap, a carefully laid ruse to earn her trust and slip past the guards under the cover of her mercy? The possibility made her stomach twist.

Had she been used?

Worse still, had she endangered her kingdom by acting on a foolish impulse to hear him out? Every quiet knock, every passing whisper outside her chamber made her jump.

She had trusted her instincts that night. But what if they had been wrong?

Rey clasped her hands tightly and bowed her head low before the effigy, pressing her forehead to the cool stone of the altar.

"Please," she whispered. "Let me be brave. Let me be right."

Later in the day as she was seated on her balcony, sleeves rolled up, grinding spices and herbs into a coarse powder, her fiance arrived. 

There was no ceremony, no guards announcing his presence , just a quiet knock and a shadow falling across her work.

“What are you doing?” he’d asked, squatting down in front of her, eyes scanning the little bowls and bunches of herbs.

Rey had been surprised to see him, but not unpleasantly so. She offered a small smile.

“I’m making a remedy for joint pain. It’s for my father.”

“Oh? So you're the royal physician now?” he teased, the humor in his voice as soft as the morning light.

Rey scraped the crushed mixture from the pestle into a stone bowl. “Only when the real ones are too slow,” she replied, not looking up, but the corners of her mouth curved just slightly.

Sahan let out a chuckle.

Rey continued, stirring the thick paste in the bowl, “When I was a little girl, one of my brother’s was thrown off his horse. He almost died.”

Sahan’s smile faded as he leaned in, listening.

“They carried him home bleeding and barely conscious. My father sent for a very special healer, said to be the best in the country. He brought his own herbs and made his medicine right there in our own courtyard.”

She paused, her eyes distant with memory.

“I was about eight years old at the time. My mother let me watch from a corner. The healer noticed how curious I was and after my brother was better, came back once a week for three years to teach me everything he knew about herbs and medicine.”

Sahan studied her face, the gentle way her hands moved as she mixed the remedy. “I think your father’s in good hands,” he said softly.

Rey allowed herself a quiet smile. “So does he” 

“Well,” Sahan said with a chuckle, “you’re lucky you found something useful to fill your time here. In Coruscant, there’s never a dull moment. You’ll be busy from dawn till night.”

Rey said nothing. Her hands kept stirring the paste, slow and steady, as if the rhythm grounded her.

She knew what he meant. A gentle reminder, perhaps unintentional, that this life, this quiet courtyard, these mornings grinding herbs would soon be behind her.

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” she said at last, her voice calm, but her heart heavy.

Below them in the courtyard, the laughter of a group of young maids floated up towards them. 

“I met with your father this morning,” the Prince said, his voice steady but low. “He’s going to declare war on the First Order.”

Rey looked up sharply, meeting his gaze. 

“He’s making the first move? Why? Before we even know if they intend to go to war with us?”

She kept her expression neutral, carefully guarding the knowledge she held about the planned attack.

“Well, declaring war in writing is the most honorable way to start a conflict. And on the night of our betrothal, one of your father’s men said he got some intelligence from that First Order prisoner. Apparently, there’s a whole battalion hiding in the Unknown Regions, preparing a surprise attack on the kingdom. Then the next morning… the prisoner’s cell was empty. He’d escaped.”

“Escaped?” Rey feigned shock.

“We think he had help.”

“Help?”

“Yes. Someone from within. Your father’s furious about First Order soldiers desecrating our sacred sites and wandering freely through the kingdom. He’s declaring war now, before they get the chance to deceive us again.”

“I’m sure we can defeat them,” Rey said firmly, though she hadn’t told him about the fierce fire burning inside her to see Kylo Ren brought down.

The Prince smiled gently. “Well, preparations for war are already underway.”

“I’m ready,” she whispered.

He hesitated, then said, “This means we’ll have to postpone our wedding.”

Rey met his eyes steadily. “I can wait.”

The Uknown Regions

Just as Snoke had anticipated, the Emperor found General Hux and their camp. 

Kylo Ren had been sneaking around Nima and had also rescued one of their own soldiers who’d been held prisoner there. 

Hux was certain the Jakku soldiers would be hot on Kylo Ren’s trail. 

A few days later an arrow was shot through a tent at the edge of the camp, carrying a letter from the King of Jakku himself, declaring war on the First Order. Hux smirked as he read it; everything was unfolding exactly as he had planned. War with Jakku was now inevitable, regardless of what the Emperor wanted. 

The only flaw in an otherwise perfect plan was Kylo Ren’s sudden and unusual interest in Jakku. This had been Hux’s operation from the start, and the last thing he wanted was imperial interference, especially from a man with a taste for drama and a talent for upstaging. 

“We can split into two groups,” Kylo Ren proposed, his tone as cool and commanding as ever. “You’ll lead yours through the flats. I’ll take the canyons. We strike from all sides.”

Hux forced a nod. “Yes. That would be…more effective.”

Kylo Ren didn’t stop. “No doubt the Princes will be leading their armies. I want them captured. Alive.”

“Your Majesty,” Hux began, struggling to keep the irritation from his voice, “what strategic value is there in sparing the enemy commanders?”

“Plenty, General,” Kylo said, his voice laced with something darker. “Alive, they’re leverage. Dead, they’re just martyrs.”

Hux seethed in silence. Everything he’d painstakingly arranged was unraveling beneath the weight of the Emperor’s whims. But he had no say in the matter. He was a general. obeyed.

In a few days, war would descend on Jakku. And if fate favored him, Hux would still find a way to carve his name into the victory.

Jakku

On the morning the army rode out to war, the streets of Nima overflowed with people. Men, women, and children spilled from their homes, waving cloths and scattering petals, their cheers rising like a storm behind the soldiers. It was a sound full of pride.

From atop the fortress, the royal family stood as guardians of this moment. The King and Queen offered blessings to each of their sons, while Princess Rey moved between them with quiet devotion. She tied threads from the holy shrines around their wrists; charms for protection and whispered prayers into the crown of each bowed head.

When her betrothed approached, he surprised her by taking her hand and kissing it.

“Rey,” he said solemnly, “I swear to you that I will do everything I can to protect your homeland. If it costs me my life, so be it.”

For the first time, Rey felt a flicker of pride for him.

“Then I’m honored to be your wife,” she said quietly.

And then, like that, they were gone.

Rey stood beside her parents on the high wall, watching the long line of riders disappear through the city gates, their banners catching the morning light.

This was it.

All that remained now was to hope.

To pray.

And to wait.

For five nights, Rey and Jess lay awake, secluded in Rey’s chambers. 

On the fifth night, as midnight passed and silence blanketed the palace, Rey stepped out onto her balcony.

This night, the entire kingdom was still awake.

From the heights of the fortress, she could see the faint flicker of lanterns and hearths glowing in the distance, one in nearly every home. It was as if all of Jakku was holding its breath.

“They’re waiting,” Rey whispered.

“Just in case we lose this war,” Jess said softly behind her, “we need to be ready to flee.”

Rey turned sharply. “They’ll never chase us from our home.” She snapped “We’re going to win. You’ll see.”

Jess wandered over to the small shrine carved into the stone alcove where the Goddess stood in silent watch, garlanded with jasmine and marigolds and surrounded by flickering candles.

Suddenly, a sharp gust of wind surged through the balcony doors.

The flames sputtered. Then, all at once, they died.

A strange hissing filled the room.

Jess whirled around. “What was that?”

A chill climbed Rey’s spine like icy fingers. Something wasn’t right.

“Quick!” she cried, running toward the alcove. “We have to relight them, now!”

“Rey, this isn’t good,” Jess said, backing away.

Rey didn’t listen. She fumbled with the oil lamp, her hands trembling. The first spark singed her fingers. The second flared, only to be swallowed by the air. She tried again and again, until finally, one candle caught. Then another.

She looked up.

The Goddess’s face was shrouded in shadow.

Rey’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. She knelt before the statue and bowed her head, pressing her burnt fingers together.

Her voice shook as she whispered:

“Please…guide them. Protect them. Bring them home.”

She was woken at daybreak by shouting, by urgent, panicked voices rising like a tide outside her windows. 

“They’re back! They’re back!”

Rey and Jess sprang from bed, hair wild, faces drained of color. They bolted through the corridor, barefoot and breathless. A court lady beckoned frantically, leading them toward the palace balcony that overlooked the courtyard. Rey’s parents were already there, standing stiff and silent, their expressions unreadable.

Below, a man staggered toward the gates, blood on his tunic and horror in his eyes.

“Our Princes!” he cried. “All of them, taken by the First Order! It’s over! We’ve lost!”

Rey’s knees buckled, her hands trembling as the words crashed over her like a wave. Her brothers, captured. 

Her brothers.

Around her, court women collapsed into sobs. Her mother let out a piercing wail and buried her face in the king’s chest, her body shaking with grief. But Rey stood frozen. The world around her blurred and narrowed into silence.

Then, through the gates, came Poe Dameron.

He rode in, slumped in the saddle, bloodied and dust-covered. Rey reached out instinctively, calling his name, her voice catching in her throat. But when he looked up, there was no hope in his eyes, only pity. He dropped his gaze before she could speak.

Behind him, soldiers flanked a cart bearing something hidden beneath a white sheet.

Rey’s breath caught. No.

One of the men pulled back the sheet. And the world tilted.

It was Prince Sahan.

Pale. Still. Gone.

Rey crumpled to the floor, the sandstone cold beneath her palms as the cries around her rose in a crescendo of grief. Someone screamed, someone wailed. But she heard none of it. Her betrothed, the man who had promised to protect her kingdom, was dead.

“It was General Hux,” Poe was saying somewhere, his voice muffled like it came through water. “But the Prince fought hard. He didn’t go down easily.”

“No,” Rey whispered. “No, no…”

But no one heard her.

All eyes were on the cart, on the fallen prince, on the Princes who had vanished into First Order hands, presumed dead. The crowd mourned loudly. She mourned in silence.

Arms folded around her, steady and warm.

“Come on, Rey,” Jess said, voice thick with tears. She lifted Rey gently and led her back to her chambers, away from the grieving. 

The room was darker now, colder. The candles at the feet of the Goddess had burned out, their wax melted into blackened puddles. Jess eased Rey into bed and tucked the covers around her. She didn’t resist. She couldn’t.

Jess sat beside her and stroked her hair slowly, whispering nothing, just letting silence fall.

Rey closed her eyes. Maybe this was all a nightmare. Maybe, when she opened them again, her brothers would be home. The wedding would be days away. Her kingdom would still be safe.

But with every breath, the ache in her chest sharpened.

And when she could hold it in no longer, she broke. Her sobs came in waves, raw and helpless, pouring from the hollow place inside her where hope had once lived.

Chapter Text

Jakku

The King and Queen of Jakku sat in silence, alone in their chamber. Between them lay a heavy parchment, unrolled across the table like a declaration of fate. The blood-red crest of the First Order was stamped across the top, ominous and inescapable. its black script stark against the yellowed page, as though scorched there by fire.

Outside, an eagle landed on the stone ledge of their window, the limp body of its prey clutched in its talons. The royal couple watched it in silence, momentarily distracted by the elegance of the predator, its feathers gleaming under the dying sun.

To the birds that soared over the burning skies of Jakku and the beasts that roamed the sand-blown wilds, today was no different than any other. But for the people within thes palace walls, life had changed forever. 

The kingdom’s fate hung on the edge of a blade.

The people would never abandon the king. Not willingly. But now their lives rested squarely in his hands. And whatever move he chose to make next, whether a plea for peace or a return to war, would decide whether Jakku would endure…or fall.

At length, the Queen turned to her husband. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her voice thin with hope.

“Will you agree to it?”

The King exhaled slowly.

“I have no choice,” he muttered. “Now they offer peace, after they humiliate us in battle and take our sons.”

“But you will sign it,” Queen Adah pressed, her fingers clinging to the gold-embroidered sleeve of his robe. Her voice trembled, desperation bleeding through. “There’s no other way. Nothing else matters now… not more than our sons.”

The King turned to face her fully, pain carved deep into the lines of his face.

“Do you understand what this means, Adah?” he said, his voice low and heavy. “We will be traitors in the eyes of our own people. No one will trust us again. Not for years, perhaps not for generations. They’ll curse our name, and scorn our line.”

“But our children…” she whispered fiercely, her composure cracking. “Let them hate us. Let them forget us. Just bring our sons home!”

The King sat in heavy silence, the treaty parchment staring back.

He knew he would sign it. Eventually. The lives of his sons depended on it. But still, he had to think, really think, about what this would mean for his people.

Nima was already vulnerable, its once-bustling streets now shadowed by fear. The war was lost. The First Order stood victorious. Bowing to their terms would mean access to trade routes, resources, and wealth the kingdom had never dreamed of. On the surface, it might even look like a triumph. But in truth, it would no longer be his kingdom. They would be vassals at the mercy of the Emperor for as long as the sun scorched the sands of Jakku.

And Rey…

His daughter would never marry into royalty. No noble family of their faith would ever welcome the daughter of a man who had bent the knee to the First Order. She would be stained by his compromise, haunted by the shadow of surrender.

The King’s jaw clenched. He had fought for this land. His forefathers had shed blood for it. The independence of Jakku had always been more than political.

it was spiritual. Sacred.

And now… it was lost.

Unless…

The thought came to him like a sudden wind, dry and cutting. It was mad. But possible.

If the Emperor agreed, if he agreed, it could change everything.

He looked over at his wife, her silk shawl pressed to her face, the fabric already soaked with tears.

“We can still make the most of this,” he said, gently taking her hands in his own.

She looked up at him, hopeful. But the moment he shared the plan stirring in his mind, her face changed. Her eyes widened in horror, her body stiffened.

“You can’t mean it,” she hissed.

“I do,” he said quietly. “It’s the only way.”

“No,” the Queen’s voice trembled, barely above a whisper. “You want to trade our daughter for our sons?”

“No, no. Adah, listen to me,” the King said quickly, reaching for her hand, but she pulled away. “It’s not like that. Our sons will be released once I sign the treaty. But this, this will be something far more powerful than any parchment agreement. A marriage would seal the alliance in blood. A union between royal houses. A future where our children are not seen as conquered, but chosen.”

The Queen stared at him, as if watching a nightmare unfold before her eyes. Her worst fears were materializing right in front of her.

Maz’s words echoed in her mind like a curse.

She had kept that knowledge buried, locked away in her heart where no one could reach it. She had prayed it would wither into nothing. 

But now…

“She will never agree to this,” the Queen whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

“She doesn’t have to agree,” the King snapped, his patience slipping. “She has a duty. Her only job as a princess is to do as she is told.”

The words hung in the air like a slap. Adah’s expression hardened, not with anger, but sorrow.

Rey could be forced into marriage. She could be veiled, marched down to the ceremonial fire and handed off like a treaty token. But there were more obstacles still, and not all of them could be silenced with royal command.

The Queen spoke next, quiet but firm. “And what about the King and Queen of Coruscant?”

The King closed his eyes. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “They’ll be furious. It’ll be seen as betrayal, even dishonor. But there are greater things at stake now than their pride, or their wrath.”

He opened his eyes again, eyes not of a king but of a father trying to salvage what little he had left. “We have no army. No sons left to lead one. And now, only one daughter.”

The Queen turned her face away, but she didn’t argue further. She didn’t need to. The silence between them said everything.

That evening, the King and Queen of Jakku sat across from the grieving monarchs of Coruscant. The flickering light from the oil lamps cast long shadows across the room, but none as heavy as the tension between the four royals.

King Prana knew what was coming.

“My son’s funeral pyre is barely cold,” the King of Coruscant thundered, rising to his feet, “and you are already preparing to hand your daughter over to the man who murdered him?!”

The words landed like a blow. Queen Adah flinched. Prana didn’t.

He bowed his head, jaw tight, voice even. “I expected your anger, Your Majesty. And I will accept whatever you choose to say.”

Tears streamed down Queen Adah’s cheeks. “They have our sons,” she said, her voice breaking. “Please understand, if we don’t agree to their terms, we may never see them again.”

The Queen of Coruscant shot to her feet beside her husband, eyes blazing. “And what of my son? He died defending your kingdom. He fought to protect your daughter. And now you would give her away to the very empire that destroyed him?”

Prana’s hands curled into fists on the table. He inhaled deeply, forcing calm.

“If I do not sign this treaty,” he said slowly, “Jakku will fall. More than just our sons will be lost. Thousands will die. Women will be widowed. Children will be left with nothing. I fought to protect this land for as long as I could. I failed.”

He lifted his gaze to meet theirs, unflinching, resolute.

“If submitting to the First Order is the only way to keep my people alive, then I will surrender my crown, my pride, and yes, even my daughter’s future. I will accept their rule!”

The silence that followed was thick with fury, grief, and betrayal.

“Very well, King Prana,” the King of Coruscant said at length, rising from his seat with barely restrained fury. “Many kingdoms have fallen to the First Order, but never have I seen a king kneel so willingly. You are a coward and a traitor. And I will see to it that every realm in this land knows exactly what kind of man you are.”

His queen rose beside him, her eyes burning with grief and contempt.

“I don’t wish to spend another moment in this palace,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Yes,” her husband said bitterly. He turned once more to Prana and Queen Adah. “This isn’t over. I promise you, we will not forget.”

The doors closed behind them with a finality that echoed through the chamber like a verdict.

For a long time, the King and Queen of Jakku sat in silence, the weight of shame and sorrow pressing heavily between them.

Then, slowly, King Prana stood.

“I must get to work,” he said quietly, the steel returning to his voice. “I’ll send word to the Emperor. Request an audience.”

Queen Adah reached for him, her eyes glassy. “Please, my love… be careful. We don’t know what they might demand of us next.”

Prana offered her a tired smile, brushing a hand through her hair with aching tenderness.

“Whatever they do to me… it won’t be worse than what’s already been done.”

He paused, then added with quiet resolve, “Don’t worry, Adah. I’m going to try and make things right.”

The Unknown Regions

King Prana made the long journey to the First Order encampment on horseback, the royal banner of Jakku trailing behind him in the desert wind like a tattered prayer. He brought with him only a small escort, no more than a handful of loyal guards. 

He did not come to intimidate. He came to offer peace… or something like it.

The First Order camp rose from the sand like a dark mirage, rows of blackened steel and crimson pennants, humming with quiet menace. The King’s arrival stirred ripples through the camp. Soldiers froze mid-task. Troopers straightened. Silent helmets turned to watch. Here was an enemy sovereign walking unshackled into their domain. As he passed, the sharp gaze of every trooper followed him, their expressions behind the visors unreadable, but their body language tense. No enemy had ever walked freely into a First Order camp. Not in this lifetime. Not in living memory.

And yet, here he was.

He was escorted through their ranks toward the heart of the encampment: a lavish tent reinforced with polished wood and hung with blood-red velvet, its spires glinting in the afternoon sun.

As King Prana stepped into the tent, his gaze was immediately drawn to the massive banner hanging from the ceiling, the familiar symbol of the First Order, black and red, stark against the cream-colored canvas. 

The tent’s interior was almost bare. No needless luxury, only cold, military precision. A rectangular table dominated the center of the space, scattered with maps and scrolls and the air was thick with the scent of wax and desert dust. Around it were several high-ranking officials, their posture alert, their eyes sharp.

At the head of the table sat the Emperor.

Kylo Ren.

He didn’t look up at first, still murmuring something to the man on his right, but when he finally did, his eyes locked with King Prana’s, and the room seemed to still.

The King had prepared himself for many things. But not for this.

He had expected someone older, colder and perhaps less human. The man before him was young. Young like his sons. But there was nothing soft about him. His stillness was coiled like a blade. His presence filled the room like smoke, difficult to ignore, impossible to read.

Prana bowed. “Greetings, Your Majesty. I see you’ve set up camp at a very convenient location.”

Kylo Ren’s head dipped slightly in return. “Welcome.”

He did not rise. Did not offer a chair. His voice was smooth, impassive.

In that instant, King Prana was reminded, painfully, that he no longer stood before an equal. Whatever titles or honors he carried in Jakku meant nothing here. In this tent, in this moment, he was a supplicant. A petitioner.

A father trying to bargain for the lives of his sons.

“I invited you to my encampment because I was impressed by your courage,” the Emperor said, his gaze steady, eyes roving over King Prana with quiet appraisal. “You may not be surprised to hear this, but I’ve never received a request for audience from a king before. Not one. You are a brave man, King Prana.”

“I came on behalf of my people. And my sons,” Prana replied evenly, his voice cool but respectful. “I wish to know how they fare.”

Kylo Ren leaned back, folding his hands. “Your sons are alive, King Prana. For now, they are not in any immediate danger.”

He let the silence that followed linger, intentional, weighted.

“I am honored you’ve come all this way to see me,” he continued. “You’ve received the treaty, I assume. Have you come with an answer?”

King Prana drew a long breath, every word careful. “I am prepared to include the Kingdom of Jakku under First Order sovereignty. I will accept the terms of your treaty.”

Kylo Ren’s smile was slow, deliberate.

“That is excellent news,” he said. “I’m pleased to hear you are entrusting Jakku to us. You’ve made the right decision. Peace comes to those who know when to surrender.”

The air between them crackled with quiet humiliation, but King Prana held his ground.

“There is one more matter,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with hesitation.

Kylo Ren tilted his head, intrigued. “Pray, continue.”

“I would prefer to speak of it in private, Your Majesty.”

A flicker of surprise crossed the Emperor’s face, but he gestured with one hand. “Leave us.”

The tent shifted as chairs scraped and boots shuffled. His officers and advisors, visibly puzzled, obeyed without protest, though their sideways glances said enough. No one argued with the Emperor.

When the last of them had exited and the flaps of the tent fell shut, Kylo Ren leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowed in curiosity.

King Prana exhaled, then spoke: “Your Majesty… I would also like to offer you the hand of my daughter, Princess Rey, in marriage. As a symbol of unity. To solidify this alliance, not with parchment, but with blood.”

For a moment, there was only silence. A silence so complete that Prana could hear his own heartbeat thudding in his chest. Kylo Ren did not speak. He didn’t move. The look on his face was unreadable, somewhere between shock and disbelief.

Prana began to regret his words. “I understand your silence,” he said cautiously, trying to recover his ground. “Perhaps I have been too forward…”

“You misunderstand me,” Kylo Ren interrupted, his voice low and calm, but no longer cold. “I’m not insulted. Quite the opposite.”

He rose slowly from his seat and walked toward the King, sunlight catching the glint of his black robes and a dark gleam in his eyes.

“I hope you will consider it, Your Majesty,” King Prana said, his voice steady despite the heaviness in his chest.

Kylo Ren leaned back slightly, fingers steepled. “You speak of your only daughter, Princess Rey, am I right?”

Prana blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “You know of my daughter?”

“I’ve heard… a little,” the Emperor said, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “Enough to know she is not easily given away.”

There was something in his tone, amusement, perhaps, or curiosity. King Prana’s stomach tightened.

“As for your proposal,” Kylo Ren continued, “I will need to give it some thought. But rest assured, you will hear from me in due course.”

“Of course,” Prana said, bowing his head in deference. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

He had done what he came to do. Now the fate of his kingdom, and his daughter, lay in the hands of the man who held all the power. Or perhaps, as he silently prayed, in the hands of the gods.

Jakku

“But he is my ENEMY!” Rey screamed, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’ve sworn on the blood of my ancestors that I would see him destroyed!”

She hadn’t yet recovered from the death of her betrothed. Grief still hung heavy on her heart. When her father summoned her to his chamber, she’d expected talk of new marriage prospects and a new alliance. 

But this? A union with the man who had crushed her kingdom?

“You? Destroy him?” her father snapped, his eyes darkening. “Enough of this foolishness. If he agrees to marry you, he will be your husband. And that will be the end of it. I will not entertain a refusal!”

Rey fell to her knees, clutching his hands in both of hers.

“But father, you don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m afraid…of what he might do to me.”

King Prana’s expression faltered. For a moment, the stern mask gave way to something gentler.

“You have nothing to fear, Rey,” he said softly. “You will not be his prisoner. You’ll be his wife. And the gods willing, something more.”

But Rey’s heart was breaking in too many places at once. 

“Mother!” She whimpered, turning to the pale, unmoving figure beside her. “Mother, please!”

Queen Adah flinched at the sound of her daughter’s voice, but her own was quiet and brittle.

“Sweetheart… listen to your father. He would never do anything to put you in harm’s way.”

That was all she could manage.

“No!” Rey cried out, a sob catching in her throat. “I can’t, I won’t agree to this! Please, Father, anything, anything but this!”

King Prana’s expression was grim, his voice weighed down with regret.

“I had no choice, Rey. If I hadn’t signed that treaty, they would have descended on Jakku like wolves. Is that what you want? To see our city, our palace, burnt to the ground? Our people slaughtered? Your brothers fought for our kingdom. And now…” He looked her in the eyes, “you must fight for it in your own way.”

“By marrying him!?” Rey spat. “How is that noble? He violated our holy ground. He killed the man I was meant to marry. And now you say he’s a good match?” Her voice cracked with disbelief. “He’s a tyrant!”

Rey persisted. She argued, pleaded, cursed the very fate that had chosen her, but none of it moved them. Her mother wept quietly. Her father simply stood, stone-faced, broken in ways he refused to show.

At last, Rey’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“But…our people will never accept this.” Her eyes flickered between them. “They’ll see me as a traitor.”

Her words hung heavy in the air. And then, a look passed between her parents. Barely perceptible, but unmistakable. Rey saw it, and her heart sank.

“They know,” she said hollowly. “Don’t they? The people already know. That you signed it…that you’ve given me to him.”

Neither of them answered.

“And that’s why Prince Sahan’s parents left. They didn’t even say goodbye…” Her breath caught. “They couldn’t bear to look at me.”

Rey’s hands fell to her sides. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of it all. She wasn’t just being given away; she was being sacrificed. And to a man who had taken everything from her.

The Unknown Regions

Kylo Ren knelt on his prayer rug, the  glow of lantern light casting long shadows across the canvas walls of his tent. The silence was thick, broken only by the low hiss of wind outside and the low chatter of his drowsy troops outside. 

His hands were clasped tightly, knuckles white, his head bowed low.

“Help me,” he whispered, voice hoarse with desperation. “Show me the way. I seek your guidance, almighty one, to unite this land under one rule, one law. If this is the path, make it clear to me.”

But clarity did not come easily. His mind was a storm, circling again and again around King Prana’s offer.

The hand of Princess Rey.

Many days ago, he might have taken it as a triumph. A spoil of war. The final conquest. He had even fantasized about it in fleeting, irreverent moments, curious about the desert princess with fire in her voice and fury in her eyes. 

But now, the stakes were different. Greater. This wasn’t about desire. It was about rule. Power.

He opened his eyes and gazed into the flame before him.

What would it mean to marry her? Could her loyalty be won?

Then, a memory rose, unbidden and searing. The last time he had knelt like this, in this very posture, it was her face that had entered his mind. And soon after, he had found himself called to Jakku by a force he hadn’t fully understood.

That had not been coincidence. That had been divine will.

Now she was being offered to him, not taken by force but extended by her father’s hand. 

This was the sign. 

Kylo Ren straightened, breath caught in his throat.

He understood now. This was the way. 

He had been shown.

“Are you mad, Your Majesty?” Snoke’s voice cut through the tent like a blade. “She is a heathen. Her people have long sworn blood oaths against the First Order!”

Kylo Ren did not flinch. “Her father has bent the knee. His kingdom belongs to us now. And my harem already has women from kingdoms like hers. This is nothing new.”

Snoke’s pale fingers clenched into the folds of his robe. “Yes, but none of them are your wives!”

Kylo turned his back on him.

“I’ve made my decision,” he said quietly. But there was iron in his tone. “I will marry the Princess of Jakku.”

Snoke’s voice grew more desperate. “Your Majesty, have you forgotten the riots led by her people? The attacks on our trade routes, the blockade of our pilgrimage sites!”

Kylo Ren turned to him slowly, his expression unreadable, almost serene.

“That is precisely why I will go through with this.”

Snoke stared, aghast, but Kylo’s voice was steady now, filled with a dangerous conviction.

“I understand now. Where my grandfather failed. Where my father faltered. They ruled with power, with fire and blood. But power alone is not enough to unite a broken world.” 

He stepped closer to Snoke, voice softening. “I believe… this is what God has been trying to show me all along. This union…it’s providence.”

Snoke’s disbelief curdled into silence. 

Kylo Ren’s voice dropped to a final command.

“This marriage will be more than a political alliance. It will be a union of blood. Of faith. And I will be remembered as the one who truly united this fractured land.”

Then, he turned his back on Snoke once more.

“You may inform King Prana that I accept his proposal. I will take his daughter as my wife.”

Snoke stood still, his hands trembling, from fear, but from the knowledge that his creation had become something else entirely.

Chapter Text

Jakku

As dawn slipped across the horizon, the sun rose over the dunes of Jakku and cast a golden glow upon the sandstone walls of the palace and the quiet streets of Nima. It was a bright, beautiful day, but inside the palace, the air was heavy with sorrow.

Rey had not slept in days. She sat on the floor before the alcove in her chamber, her head bowed low against the stone altar, arms folded tightly across the surface where the idol of her Goddess stood. Around her, her attendants moved with gentle hands and hushed voices, carefully folding silks and shawls into carved wooden trunks, packing away the remnants of a girlhood about to be left behind.

Lifting her head, Rey looked around her chamber, its familiar shadows, the warm light spilling across the lattice screens, the scent of incense clinging to the walls. This was the room where she had spent nearly all of her nineteen years: where she had learned to braid her hair, to read scripture, to grind herbs for her father’s medicine

…where she had once dreamed of a different kind of future. A safe one. A happy one.

Tradition dictated that once a woman was married, she could never again sleep in the room of her childhood. 

This, then, was goodbye. 

And Rey didn’t want to forget a single detail. She wanted to remember the way the dawn crept in through the arched windows, the little crack in the mosaic tiles near her bed, the sound of laughter from the courtyard at sunset. She wanted to remember everything.

But no memory, no prayer, could change what lay ahead.

In a matter of days, she would leave her home, her people, her past, and step into the house of an enemy. Into the arms of a man she feared. Into a future not of her choosing.

“May I come in?”

The Queen stood at the threshold, smiling faintly despite the weariness in her eyes.

“Of course,” Rey replied, rising halfway to her feet out of habit.

But her mother gently waved her down. “No, stay. I’ll sit with you.”

She crossed the room and settled beside Rey on the carpeted floor, her silk robes pooling around her like water. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The muffled sounds of servants packing beyond the partition seemed to fade.

“We haven’t had much time to talk,” the Queen began softly, her voice carrying a note of guilt. “Not properly. Not like we used to. But there are things I must say now… not as your Queen, but as your mother.”

Rey looked at her, unsure of what was coming next.

Her mother hesitated, then said quietly, “You haven’t even met him yet…but do you know what happens between a husband and wife, after the wedding?”

Rey blinked, caught off guard by the question.

“I know what happens,” she said quickly, not meeting her mother’s gaze.

A brief, awkward silence followed. The Queen’s hands fidgeted with the edge of her shawl, as if relieved and uncertain at once. She nodded, then exhaled and changed course.

“You are braver than I ever was,” she murmured. “I know this isn’t the future you dreamed of, and I know what we’re asking of you is… unimaginable. But Rey, you’re stronger than you know. You will endure this. And you won’t be alone.”

Rey’s throat tightened. She wanted to believe her.

The Queen reached out and took her hand gently in hers. “This is a new beginning.”

Rey’s face crumpled.

“Just think!” the Queen continued, forcing a brightness into her voice. “You’ll be moving to Naboo. I’ve heard it’s the most beautiful province in the country. Green hills, flowers…”

Rey turned her face away, unmoved.

Her mother reached out and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“As the wife of the Emperor, you’ll have everything you could ever want. Jewels, silks, music, a palace of your own… even the best healers and cooks!”

“No,” Rey said flatly. Her voice cracked, but her eyes were steady. “None of that will make me happy.”

“Nonsense,” her mother said too quickly. “I know this isn’t what we planned. I know it’s not what any of us wanted. But it’s what must be done.”

Rey’s hands curled into fists. “Buy why?” she whispered. 

The Queen’s composure finally faltered. She took Rey’s face between her trembling hands and leaned in close.

“Because you are strong. Because the gods chose you for something greater. And I…” her breath caught “I need you to be brave, my love. Whatever happens, remember that the gods are with you.”

Tears spilled freely down Rey’s cheeks now, but she said nothing. In her silence, her mother kissed her forehead and held her tight. 

If this was her destiny, if this was truly what the gods had written for her, if this was how she could save her people, then Rey would accept it, even if her heart resisted every step. With slow, deliberate movements, she rose from the floor and reached over the altar, her fingers brushing the cool stone of the Goddess’s statue.

“What are you doing?” her mother asked softly, watching in confusion.

“I’m taking her with me,” Rey murmured, lifting the idol from its place.

Her mother’s eyes widened. “Rey…you know you won’t be allowed to keep that in the palace at Naboo. Our worship is forbidden there.”

Rey held the statue close, her voice low and unwavering. “I’m taking her with me whether anyone likes it or not.”

The Queen sighed, weary with love and fear. Her daughter had always insisted on learning her lessons the hard way. But this, this act of devotion, this quiet rebellion, filled her with a strange kind of pride.

At that moment, Jess entered the chamber. Noticing the Queen, she bowed her head in greeting. “Good morning, Your Majesty. I think it’s time for Rey to begin getting ready.”

The Queen rose slowly, adjusting her silk skirts. She took one last look at her daughter, standing proud with the Goddess in her arms.

“I think I’d like to help dress her, Jess,” she said gently. “But I’ll be back in a while.”

With that, she turned and quietly left the room. 

Jess waited until the Queen had disappeared down the corridor before rushing to Rey’s side. It was only then that Rey noticed the small glass vial in her friend’s trembling hands, its contents clear and glinting in the morning light.

“I was hoping to catch you alone,” Jess whispered, glancing nervously at the door. “I need to talk to you.”

She took Rey by the wrist and led her into the far corner of the room, away from listening ears.

“You know… I have a plan.”

Rey blinked. “What kind of plan?”

Jess’s voice quivered as she held the vial up between them. “What if…what if we sent another girl in your place? He’s never seen you. He wouldn’t even know.”

“No, Jess.” Rey shook her head firmly. “If he ever found out, he’d burn our kingdom to the ground.”

Jess sighed and nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. “I suppose you’re right.”

She hesitated. Then, as if bracing herself, she lifted the vial a little higher. “But there’s something else.”

Rey stared at it, uncertain. “What is it?”

“Poison,” Jess whispered, her voice barely audible.

Rey’s breath caught. “What? Why?”

“It’s for us,” Jess said softly. “To take with us. In case something goes wrong. If things are unbearable… if there’s no other way out. We’ll have no one else, Rey. Nowhere to go.”

Rey’s eyes filled with tears. She reached forward and pulled Jess into her arms.

“Oh, Jess…” she murmured, her voice thick. “I hope it never comes to that. We have to be stronger than that. We will be.”

Jess held her tightly, then pulled away, biting her lip. “I hope so too.”

Then, as if nothing had happened, she wiped her face quickly and sprang up, her voice light. “Come on. Let’s get you ready.”

She hurried to Rey’s wardrobe, throwing open its carved doors, the tiny vial now tucked safely into her sash, unspoken.

Everyone in the palace, servants and nobles alike, had gathered in the courtyard to see their Princess one last time before she was handed over to the First Order.

Rey stood alone in the center of her chamber. Once her sanctuary, the room now felt hollow and unfamiliar, stripped of her belongings, her laughter, her dreams. She wanted to cry, but the tears had long since dried up. For days, she had wept until she thought she had nothing left.

Behind her, Jess placed a steady hand on her shoulder.

“Rey, they’re waiting,” she said gently. “It’s time to go.”

With leaden feet, Rey allowed herself to be guided outside. Her knees nearly buckled as she descended the polished sandstone staircase, emerging into the courtyard and the sea of mourners awaiting her.

People fell to their knees, grasping her hands, weeping into her fingers. Her ladies wailed into their shawls, their cries echoing off the high walls. The men stood solemn, heads bowed, eyes heavy with grief.

“Take care, Princess!”

“May the Gods walk with you!”

“Our prayers are with you!”

Only the young children remained untouched by sorrow. They clung to her skirts, chirping like little birds, their innocence a painful contrast to the grief-stricken silence around them. Rey forced a small smile for them before stepping into the palanquin that waited beyond the gates.

Her father and his delegation were already mounted on horseback, their expressions unreadable. As she took her seat behind the veiled curtain, her father gave the signal, and the procession moved forward.

Through the narrow streets of Niima, her people lined the path, silent as stone. No one shouted, no one cried out congratulations like the night of her betrothal to Prince Sahan. They were just pale, hollow faces watching her pass. 

When they reached the gate of the Niima Fortress, Rey parted the palanquin curtains and looked back.

She had dreamed of this moment as a child, when she would finally leave Jakku to begin her new life in greener lands. She had snuck out of the palace countless times, raced across the sandy dunes, imagining distant cities beyond the horizon, only to be dragged home by her angry, scolding mother.

Now, as the sun blazed over the dunes, gilding the rooftops of the only home she’d ever known, a stream of tears slid silently down her face. She would have given anything to be that little girl again. She would have given the world for someone to come running after her, just one more time, to bring her back.

The Unknown Regions

“I won’t be attending this impure ceremony,” General Hux said coldly.

He stood at the edge of the camp, arms folded, watching with narrowed eyes as troopers raised ceremonial tents and strung up garlands for the Emperor’s wedding. The preparations were well underway, flags of both the First Order and Jakku flapped together in the wind. The sight made his stomach churn.

Beside him, Snoke remained silent, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze distant. He too was uneasy. The Emperor’s willingness to compromise with enemy kingdoms unsettled him. What precedent was he setting? Would every king with a crown and a daughter now dream of forging peace through marriage?

“Attendance is mandatory,” Snoke said, breaking the silence without looking at Hux.

Hux sniffed with disdain. “Then I shall attend with my eyes shut and my ears plugged.”

He turned sharply. “Jakku was meant to be mine. I would’ve razed the palace and sent King Prana crawling back into the dust. And as for marrying a heathen princess, never.”

“Well,” Snoke replied calmly, “he hasn’t exactly given Jakku back. They’ve submitted. They’ll live under our rule, pay tribute, obey our laws.”

“But in a few days,” Hux growled, “they’ll be more than subjects. They’ll be family. Can you imagine those desert rats overrunning the palace in Naboo? Sitting at our tables, bleeding their filth into our courts?”

Snoke turned to face him now, the shadow of a smile flickering on his lips. “That’s why I’m here, General. To make sure they never get that far.”

The King and Queen of Jakku, their daughter Rey, and their royal retinue arrived at the First Order campsite after several days of grueling travel. The blazing sun hung high above them, casting long shadows across the sand as troopers moved with silent efficiency, raising tents and securing perimeters. It felt more like an occupied capital than a wedding ground.

As Rey had hoped, her intended, the Emperor, was nowhere to be seen.

With the guards distracted and the servants busy, Rey and Jess slipped away under the pretense of fetching water. They walked briskly toward the well, carrying clay pots in their arms.

Just as Rey was lowering a pot into the cool water, a voice called out behind her.

“Do you need help with that, Your Highness?”

She spun around.

“Finn!”

He was dressed in a First Order tunic, but his expression was all warmth and mischief.

“I saw your caravan arrive just now,” he said. “I had to see you before…” he paused, then added more quietly, “before everything changes.”

Rey blinked in disbelief. “How did you escape?”

Finn smiled, tapping the side of his nose. “Ah… that’s a story for another day.”

Her relief turned quickly to anger. She took a step forward. “Do you even know what your First Order has done? What they took from us?”

Finn flinched but held her gaze. “I do. And I’m truly sorry, Princess. For all of it. But believe me when I say, I didn’t come here as one of them. I came to help you. However I can.”

Before Rey could respond, the crunch of boots on sand startled them.

“Quick,” she hissed.

Finn ducked behind a nearby boulder just as one of the palace guards approached.

“Your mother wishes to speak with you, Princess,” the guard announced.

Rey nodded coolly. “Tell her I’ll be there shortly.”

As the guard turned and marched off, Rey picked up her water pot with trembling hands. Jess lifted hers in silence.

As they began the walk back, Rey dared one last glance at the boulder. Finn was still hidden behind it. But she knew he was watching.

As the day wore on, the harsh desert sun began to lose its edge. 

Inside her pavilion, Rey and Jess sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor, sorting through trays of bangles, earrings, and bridal hairpieces, each one more ornate than the next. 

They worked in silence, until the sudden echo of shouting and hoofbeats shattered the quiet.

They rushed to the tent’s entrance, lifting the flap.

Dozens of mounted soldiers rode in, their black uniforms streaked with dust, their horses glistening with sweat and foam. Soldiers on foot hurried to make way.

“What’s going on?” Jess whispered.

Rey turned to a nearby guard. “Who’s arrived?”

“It’s the Emperor, Your Highness,” he replied, bowing. “He has returned from the border.”

Rey felt her breath catch in her throat. He’s here.

Would he summon her? Demand an audience? Would she be forced to meet him in some cold, impersonal throne room and bow like a subject?

But the summons never came.

Word reached them soon enough, Kylo Ren had met with her parents mere minutes after returning but had not asked for her. Not even once.

Not even curious?, Rey thought bitterly. It should have been a relief, but the silence stung.

Later that evening, still wound tight with thoughts, Rey sat before her small altar. The idol of her Goddess, lovingly wrapped in cloth, rested inside a carved chest near her bedding. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind: 

You won’t be allowed to take her with you to Naboo.

It gnawed at her. 

There was only one way to find out how far she could push.

She stood and brushed off her skirts.

“I’m going to speak with him,” she told Jess.

Jess’s eyes widened. “The Emperor?”

Rey nodded. 

She walked outside and found Finn organizing supply crates near the perimeter.

“Finn.”

He turned and straightened immediately. “Your Highness.”

“Please inform the Emperor that I wish to speak with him.”

He blinked. “You mean…you want to request an audience?”

“I mean,” Rey said, “that I want him to come to me. Can you do that?”

Finn stared, stunned.

“Is that so impossible?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. No one summoned the Emperor. No one dared. But then again, no one had ever been Rey of Jakku either.

“…I’ll deliver your message,” he said, voice low. “But I can’t promise he’ll come.”

Rey turned her back to him and returned to her tent.

Finn watched her go, a knot tightening in his chest. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he turned and made his way toward the Emperor’s command tent, his boots crunching softly on the sand.

At the mouth of the dark silk pavilion, he paused, the guards parting to let him through. Finn inhaled deeply.

Then he stepped inside.

Kylo Ren lay sprawled across a velvet-covered couch, legs outstretched, one arm flung over his eyes. The day had been long: border inspections, endless reports, and tiresome flattery from the nobles of conquered lands. His muscles ached, and for a rare moment, he allowed himself stillness.

“Yes, what is it?” he asked, not bothering to open his eyes.

Finn hesitated just inside the tent. He cleared his throat. “Your Majesty…Princess Rey requests your presence in her tent. She wishes to speak with you.”

Kylo Ren’s eyes snapped open.

“What?” The word was sharp, low and cold like a blade being drawn.

Finn shifted on his feet, instinct urging him to retreat, but he held his ground. “She…respectfully requests that you attend her, Your Majesty.”

There was a pause. A terrible, drawn-out pause.

Then, slowly, Kylo Ren sat up. His boots hit the floor with a heavy thud. The quiet of the tent seemed to press inward as his anger began to simmer, not loud, not showy, but dangerous in its restraint.

“And may I know the reason,” he said tightly, “why I, the Emperor of this land, am being summoned?”

Finn’s mouth went dry. “I wasn’t given a reason, Your Majesty. But I-I’m certain it wasn’t meant as disrespect.”

Kylo Ren didn’t answer. He simply stood.

The air seemed to darken as he moved. The leather of his gloves creaked as he curled his hands into fists. Without another word, he stormed toward the entrance of the tent. As he threw the curtain aside, the heavy fabric snapped like a whip, slamming into a tall brass vase by the doorway. It toppled with a loud metallic clang and skidded across the ground, scattering sand and silencing the nearby attendants.

Finn remained frozen where he stood, heart pounding. The Emperor’s mood was a storm gathering on the horizon.

And somewhere on the other side of the camp, Princess Rey waited, fearless or foolish, Finn couldn’t decide, for the man she was soon to marry.

Kylo Ren marched toward the Princess’s tent, fists clenched, teeth gritted. He had never forgiven Rey for her words about him at Jakku. The memory simmered like a wound beneath his skin. 

She was in no position to be making demands of him. This marriage had been proposed by her father, not him, and Kylo Ren had agreed solely for the political advantage it offered.

He would not be summoned like a dog at her beck and call.

Bitter thoughts swirled in his head as he approached her tent. The moment the Princess’s ladies-in-waiting saw him coming, they scattered like pigeons, as though his very presence might burn them.

Inside, he was struck by the tent’s beauty. Silk banners fluttered along the walls, and the floor was covered in hand-woven carpets of exquisite craftsmanship. A warm glow came from the candles burning in the corners, and the air carried the distinct scent of sandalwood. But he didn’t relax. He wasn’t here to be soothed.

The back half of the tent was veiled by sheer fabric that hung from ceiling to floor like a delicate curtain. 

Through it, he saw her.

The Princess walked forward, her footsteps light, her anklets chiming with every step. The fabric between them was translucent. He could not see her face, only her silhouette, but even that was enough to rankle him. She was poised, still, her outline moving like a wraith behind the veil.

But they were alone. 

Emperor and Princess. Face to face, at last.

Rey got the shock of her life when Kylo Ren burst into her tent. Though he appeared composed, she could almost feel the anger radiating from him, thick and stifling as he stood before her like a storm waiting to break.

She had anticipated this reaction. That was precisely why she had chosen her words with care she couldn’t afford to provoke him further.

He spoke first. His voice was deep and steady, though his spine was taut as a drawn bow.

“You asked to see me?”

Rey was momentarily disarmed. His voice, it was softer than she expected, yet carried an unmistakable authority. There was something strangely familiar in the sound of it, as if she’d heard it once before in a dream, or another life.

She steadied herself, drawing a slow breath.

“I cannot find words to express my gratitude to you for respecting and honoring my request,” she began, her voice formal, almost mechanical. “I summoned you to inform you that I will give my personal consent to this marriage, if and only if you are willing to meet my conditions.”

Kylo Ren sniffed, unimpressed.

“And what are these…conditions?” he asked, his tone laced with disdain.

Rey’s heart pounded against her ribs, loud enough she thought he might hear it. But she had to speak. For her dignity, her faith, and her future she had to speak.

“My first condition,” she began, her voice steady despite the storm within her, “is that you allow me to keep my faith and follow my customs and traditions after we are married.”

She paused, letting her words settle in the still air.

“And under no circumstance,” she continued, “should I be coerced into conversion.”

A deathly silence followed. Not even the candles flickered.

“Do you accept?” she asked, tentatively.

But he did not answer — not directly.

“And?” he said instead, his voice unreadable.

Rey drew in a breath.

“My second and final condition is that I be allowed to bring the idol of my Goddess with me to Naboo, and that a shrine and altar be built for her in my chambers.”

She had barely finished speaking when silence descended once more, thicker than before. Neither of them moved. Rey could only see his silhouette through the veil- tall, still, and silent. She could not read his face. Could not guess what he might be thinking.

And then, without a word, he turned sharply on his heel and exited the tent, just as swiftly as he had entered it.

Now Rey was frightened.

Why hadn’t he said anything?

Where had he gone?

King Prana and his delegation were seated around a fire outside the campsite, deep in discussion with several First Order officers about the implementation of their rule over the newly acquired kingdom. The conversation fell silent when one of the footmen approached and announced the Emperor’s arrival.

Everyone around the fire sprang to their feet as Kylo Ren advanced toward them. The firelight flickered in his dark eyes as he came to a halt in front of the group, his gaze fixed on King Prana.

“King Prana,” he said, his voice cool and clear, “your daughter summoned me to her tent just now.”

King Prana stiffened. “Your Majesty…I had no idea…”

Kylo Ren cut him off with a gesture.

“She laid before me two conditions for our marriage,” he continued, making no effort to lower his voice, “and declared that unless they are met, there will be no wedding.”

The air grew tense.

“The first condition,” he said, scanning the faces around the fire, “is that I permit her to keep her faith and follow her own customs and traditions. The second,” he paused briefly “is that I allow her to bring an effigy of her Goddess into my home and construct a shrine to her in her chamber.”

King Prana’s face had drained of color. “Your Majesty, I will speak to her at once. I’m sure she didn’t mean…”

Kylo Ren raised his hand again, silencing the King a second time.

“There is no need,” he said. “I have made my decision.”

A beat.

“I greatly value the alliance between your people and mine, King Prana. Therefore, your daughter’s conditions are acceptable to me.”

A hush fell over the gathering. First Order officers exchanged stunned glances, clearly taken aback by the Emperor’s declaration. But King Prana’s side exhaled with quiet relief. Some smiled faintly, others glanced gratefully toward their King.

“God willing,” Kylo Ren concluded, “her demands will be met to her satisfaction.”

With that, he dipped his head once in respect, then turned and strode off into the darkness, his cloak billowing behind him.

It was only a matter of time before Snoke’s spies informed him of what had transpired between Rey and Kylo Ren that evening. The details of the story shook Snoke to his very core.

He was outside the Emperor’s tent within minutes, demanding entrance.

Inside, Kylo Ren was in his bath, enclosed behind a white linen screen. A manservant nearby tended a small fire, feeding it wood to keep the night air at bay. Though Snoke couldn’t see the Emperor, he knew full well his words would be heard.

“I’ve heard about your decision concerning the Princess’s conditions,” he began, his voice sharp and disbelieving. “I don’t know what you were thinking, Your Majesty, but do you realize you have just committed sacrilege?”

Behind the screen, Kylo Ren’s head turned abruptly in Snoke’s direction.

“How so, General?”

“Your Majesty,” Snoke pressed, “God has appointed you as His representative on Earth. He has entrusted you with the sacred duty of upholding our faith, and you have just permitted idolatry, false worship, under your very roof, in your own home!”

Kylo Ren remained silent.

“And is it not custom,” Snoke continued, “for a woman to adopt her husband’s faith, traditions, and customs when she marries?”

“I know God will understand, General,” Kylo Ren said at last. “My reasons for accepting the Princess’s conditions are purely political, I assure you.”

Snoke studied the outline of the screen, unreadable.

Oh, but I’m not quite so sure, Your Majesty, he thought.

When Snoke left the Emperor’s tent that night, his mind was no longer on Kylo Ren, it was on Princess Rey. Was the Emperor truly acting in service of diplomacy? Or was he fulfilling her every wish for reasons unspoken?

To Snoke, her ‘conditions’ were not negotiations, they were defiance. She had no right to dictate terms, not when her father had come crawling to them for mercy.

Or was it he who was mistaken? What was Kylo Ren not telling him?

Snoke’s jaw tightened. He needed to know more about this Princess Rey.

Chapter Text

The Unknown Regions 

When Rey was woken by the Queen on the day of her wedding, the air was still cool and the sky outside was dark. She shivered as her mother helped her undress and step into the warm bath that had been drawn for her by her ladies, bleary-eyed, pale-faced, and gently swaying where they stood, waiting on her in silence.

She had been told after arriving that there would be no time for any of the pre-wedding ceremonies or rituals. The Emperor, she was informed, was in a hurry to return to Naboo. It didn’t matter to Rey. She had already accepted that this wouldn’t be a proper wedding, not the kind she had once dreamed of. But she was grateful, at least, that the Emperor had promised to include her customs and not just his own.

What had surprised her most was that he had agreed at all, to everything she had asked. And while a sliver of fear had lifted from her shoulders, she wasn’t foolish enough to count that as a victory just yet. Who could say what the future held? She didn’t put it past him to go back on his word the moment it suited him.

As the first light crept across the desert, her tent burst into activity. Servants and ladies rushed in and out, carrying messages, fabrics, jewelry, and ceremonial items. Outside, she heard the shuffle of feet, the clamor of raised voices and orders barked across the camp. The water in her bath had grown cool, and the smell of breakfast wafted through the linen walls: rich spices and ghee. Rey wrapped her arms around herself as her stomach growled, wishing, not for the first time, that it would all just end.

Her mother’s voice rang out.

“Rey! Get out of that bath!”

Wrapping herself in a clean sheet, Rey stepped out and crossed over to the bed, where her wedding clothes and jewels had been laid out. They glittered brilliantly against the plain yellow bedding. The silk banners on the tent walls were already being taken down. She would not be returning to this tent tonight.

To Rey’s surprise, her mother seemed in better spirits than she had been in days. She moved through the tent with ease, her voice lighter as she slowly raked her fingers through the knots in Rey’s damp hair. Rey could tell the Queen was pleased, no doubt from her many meetings with the Emperor, which seemed to have left her increasingly impressed. Much to Rey’s quiet dismay.

“We’ll be seeing your brothers today,” her mother said cheerfully. “They’re going to be released!”

Rey paused. Her heart swelled, tentatively, carefully, but this time, it was with genuine joy.

Finally, something to look forward to.

Kylo Ren observed his reflection in the mirror. He hadn’t ordered a new outfit for the occasion, just had one of his older ceremonial tunics brought in from Naboo. It fit well enough, but he was surprised at how drawn he looked. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes, and a tightness in his jaw he hadn’t noticed before.

He realized, with no small degree of irritation, that he was nervous.

But why? This wasn’t his first wedding. He had been married before. Several times, in fact, and those ceremonies had been far more grand than this quiet desert affair.

So, what made this different?

She did.

Fierce. Proud. Reckless.

He touched his throat where the faint scar had long since faded, but the memory of her lunging at him with a dagger burned vividly in his mind.

He smirked at his reflection in the mirror, thinking of how she had pounced on him like an angry tigress.

“Your Majesty?” one of his grooms called nervously. “Is something wrong? Do you want me to fix something?”

“No, no. It’s fine.” he replied dismissively, tearing his gaze from the mirror.

He turned toward the young man. “When is the ceremony?”

“In another two hours, Your Majesty.”

Kylo Ren clicked his tongue in irritation. “Why that long?”

The groom gulped. “The Princess needs more time to prepare, Your Majesty.”

He scoffed under his breath. Of course. The sooner this was over, the better.

Snoke watched, impassive and uninterested, as the marriage rituals began.

The King and Queen of Jakku led their daughter toward the ceremonial fire Draped in red and gold, Rey moved like a shadow of herself. When she sat beside Kylo Ren, the circle was complete.

As the priest began to chant the ancient verses, the court of the First Order stirred, uncomfortable and too aware of the foreign rituals, the unfamiliar chants.

The Queen reached over and lifted the veil from her daughter’s face, and for the first time, the officers of the First Order laid eyes on their Emperor’s new wife.

Next to Snoke, General Hux, who had vowed to keep his eyes and ears closed, gaped at the Princess.

A fitting prize for a conquerer.

Rage bubbled within him, threatening to boil over. The Princess. The kingdom. All of it should have been his. And Kylo Ren had taken it all from him.

Oblivious to the seething resentment in Hux’s glare, and the cold disdain behind Snoke’s silence, Rey and Kylo Ren faced each other to tie the ceremonial thread that would bind them in marriage. As she looked up to meet her husband’s gaze for the first time, her eyes widened.

She recognized him.

He was the man she had seen the night she visited Finn in prison. The one who had slipped away like a ghost in the dark. A chill raced down her spine.

As if reading her thoughts, Kylo Ren’s lips curved into a knowing smile.

It was not a gentle smile. It was not cruel either. It was the smile of a man who had waited. Who had hunted and then won.

Rey looked away sharply, bile rising in her throat and fury washing over her. The chanting continued. The circle of fire burned. Hands reached forward to tie the ceremonial thread that would bind their wrists together as husband and wife.

Maybe this is all a cruel joke Rey thought.

Maybe she wasn’t marrying the Emperor at all. Maybe this was just some poor soldier in disguise.

She could only hope.

But even as she averted her gaze, Kylo Ren couldn’t stop looking at her.

He had forgotten how beautiful she was.

Now, draped in finery, sitting solemnly beside him as his bride, she stirred something in him.

He drank in her image. The defiant tigress of Jakku had lowered her head. Her fire had quieted.

Or so he thought.

He reached forward and took her hand.

She did not flinch.

But her fingers were like ice to the touch.

As the new couple circled the sacred fire, their robes brushing the sand and the incense swirling up toward the sun, Snoke kept his gaze fixed upon them. His eyes narrowed in calculation.

Rey caught Snoke watching her. For a brief second, their eyes met.

So, that was the man they called Snoke. Pale and hollow-eyed, with a face carved by war and cruelty. A scar traced the length of one cheek like a blade through porcelain. Rey’s breath caught in her throat. There was no softness in that face, no kindness. She looked away quickly.

The rituals continued. The vows were spoken. The offerings were made. Yet between the bride and groom, there were no more exchanges of glances, no quiet words. Not even a fleeting smile. They might have been strangers performing background roles in an old, tragic play. At times, Rey thought she could feel his eyes on her, but when she looked, he was staring blankly ahead, unmoved.

The only time warmth touched her face that day was when she caught sight of her brothers.

They appeared just before the banquet, led in by an officer and flanked by guards. Their armor had been taken from them, but they stood tall. Her older brother saw her first and held out his arms. Without hesitation, Rey ran to him.

She buried her face in his shoulder as he held her close.

“I can’t believe Father did this,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “If I’d been there, I would’ve stopped it.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” Rey whispered back.

“I should’ve protected you. I should’ve been there.”

There were no answers, only the bittersweet comfort of reunion. But the sight of them, safe and whole, was the only joy she’d known in days. It lifted the heaviness from her chest, if only for a moment.

That night, the desert echoed with music and cheer. Wine flowed freely, and soldiers from both sides, enemy no longer, at least for now, laughed and sang under the stars. Perhaps it was the wine, or the strange peace of the hour, but the usual tension between Jakku’s warriors and the First Order seemed forgotten.

Rey remained at the heart of it all, the golden bride, watched by all yet truly seen by none.

Kylo Ren sat near the fire, speaking little, his face unreadable in the shifting glow. He didn’t drink, ate very little and didn’t dance. He merely watched his new wife, her family, and the men who would have died fighting him only days ago.

The wedding was done.

But the war, he knew, was far from over.

It was past midnight, and the moment Rey had been dreading came too soon. When her ladies escorted her to the Emperor’s tent, she was almost ready to protest, but knew it would be futile. She kept her red and gold wedding attire on, and Jess pulled the veil over her head once more before helping her onto the bed. Rey drew her knees up to her chest, her skirt flaring around her in elegant waves. With the scent of roses hanging heavy in the air and petals strewn across the sheets, she looked like something out of a painting, still, silent, and heartbreakingly alone.

Just before leaving, Jess pressed something cold into her palm. The touch startled her. It was a small silver knife. Rey quickly hid it within the folds of her skirt.

If he tries anything, she told herself, I will not be afraid.

She waited. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Outside the tent, she could hear the fading sounds of celebration, the laughter of drunken men, the voices of excited women and slowly, one by one, they all fell away into silence.

Then, the entrance of the tent fluttered open.

And with the whisper of the wind, he entered.

Rey’s whole body stiffened. She held her breath, listening to the sound of his boots on the carpeted floor, feeling him draw nearer with every step. Then, nothing. Not a word, not a sound.

The bed dipped beside her.

And she knew he had sat down.

She dared not look up. But when his hand reached out to lift her veil…

In an instant, she seized the silver knife and slashed it across his outstretched hand. A splatter of scarlet bloomed against the white bedclothes. They both recoiled, Rey tearing the veil from her head, eyes blazing, teeth bared.

Kylo Ren stared at his bleeding hand, fury igniting behind his eyes. He growled, low and dangerous.

For a heartbeat, they looked like wild animals, poised, trembling, each daring the other to strike again.

“It’s treason to attack and draw the blood of the Emperor, Princess,” he snarled through clenched teeth.

“I don’t want to be touched!” Rey shot back, her voice quivering but unyielding.

“Oh, I assure you,” he hissed, “I have no intention of touching you. Not tonight. Not ever. I only wanted to get a better look at what I got in exchange for the kingdom I conquered.”

“Well then, take a good long look!” Rey screamed.

Kylo Ren straightened, biting back his rage.

“You may have the face of an angel, but you have the temper of a wild boar!” he snapped.

“And you’re a monster!” she spat.

He grabbed the edge of the bedcover and wiped his bleeding palm across it. Rey watched, chest heaving, her hand still tight around the knife.

Finally, he spoke, voice cold and sharp.

“We can stand here hurling insults until dawn, or we can get some sleep and leave early tomorrow. Which do you prefer?”

Rey hesitated. “Where will you sleep?”

“I’ll take the couch,” he said flatly.

He tore a strip from the edge of his tunic and began wrapping it around his bleeding hand in silence. Rey remained on guard, still clutching the knife, but as Kylo Ren turned from her and walked away from the bed, something in her posture softened. Her fingers uncurled slightly.

She watched as he lay down on the couch, turning his back to her without another word.

Cautiously, she climbed back into the bed, slipping the knife beneath her pillow. She left the bedside lamps burning. She didn’t want the darkness swallowing her.

Rey had been sure she’d be too frightened to sleep. But the moment her head touched the pillow, the exhaustion of the past few weeks began to wash over her like a heavy tide. Her eyelids grew heavier, and without meaning to, she drifted into uneasy sleep.

Rey felt herself drifting back into consciousness, her sleep uneasy. She tried to open her eyes, but her lids were heavy. Everything felt dark, hushed.

The bed didn’t feel quite right.

Something hard and wet was shifting against her bare thigh. It was under her skirt, pushing against her skin. For a fleeting moment, she thought it was the knife, until she realized it felt too long. Too alive.

She reached for the sheets, her hand trembling.

When she opened her eyes, she nearly screamed.

Looming over her, half-shadowed by the low lamplight, was Kylo Ren. Only one lamp still burned; the other had gone out, plunging the tent into a murky gloom. His eyes caught the light, glinting with something she couldn’t name.

Rey froze, paralyzed with terror.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her whole body trembling.

He inhaled sharply.

“Stay still,” he hissed. “Don’t move a muscle.”

Then, without warning, he snatched away the sheet and reached up under her skirt.

Rey yelped, her hands flailing, but the shock of it left her too stunned to think, let alone reach for her knife.

And then-

In one swift, horrifying motion, Kylo Ren withdrew his hand and in it was the glistening head of a snake.

Rey’s scream caught in her throat.

The serpent, which had lain still between her legs moments before, now writhed violently in his grip, its body twisting and lashing against her as he hauled it out from under her skirt.

She had seen many snakes in the desert, but none like this. It was massive, longer than her arm, its black-and-brown scales slick with sweat and heat. Diamond patterns shimmered along its back, and its fangs dripped with venom as it thrashed and spat.

Rey stared in horror. She had shared her bed with death…and somehow escaped.

Kylo Ren held the snake tightly, one hand locked around its jaws. His grip was unshakable, but his face was pale.

“You poor snake,” Kylo murmured, holding it at arm’s length, its body still coiling and twitching in his hand. He brought it up to eye level. “I might have just saved your life.”

Rey turned her head toward him, still shaken but listening.

“You should really be careful who you crawl into bed with,” he went on, still addressing the snake. “She may look sweet and innocent, but my wife has a worse bite than any serpent alive…and enough venom in her to poison an entire kingdom.”

Rey sat upright, her mouth opening in fury, but before she could speak, a guard burst into the tent.

“Is everything alright, Your Majesty? I thought I heard screaming…”

He froze, taking in the sight: the Emperor standing calmly beside the bed, a snake dangling from his grasp, and the new Empress, white as chalk, clutching the bedsheets to her chest.

To everyone’s surprise, Kylo laughed. “Yes, yes. It’s fine.”

He held up the snake casually. “Put this in a sack and take it far from the camp. Let it go.”

The guard blinked, then approached without fear, took the snake from the Emperor’s hand, and left with it.

When the tent flaps fell shut again, Kylo turned back to Rey.

“How…how did you know?” she asked in a whisper.

“I’m an Emperor,” he replied, sitting back down on the couch with maddening composure. “I’m vigilant even in my sleep.”

He leaned back, arms behind his head.

“It must’ve slithered in earlier. Found the bed warm, I imagine.” He smirked. “If you’re too scared to sleep alone, I could join you.”

He already knew what her answer would be.

“No. I’m not scared,” Rey said, lifting her chin defiantly.

She lay down again, pulling the covers up to her neck, but her fingers kept checking the sheets. Every time she thought she could relax, her hand would dart beneath her pillow or over the hem of her skirt.

As the night wore on, Rey lay still, eyes wide open in the dark. Her thoughts turned bitter. Despite the terror she’d felt, she found herself wondering what it would’ve been like if the snake had bitten her. Perhaps it would’ve been better that way; quicker, quieter, simpler. Maybe Kylo Ren thought he had done her a favor, saving her life. But to Rey, it only meant prolonging a future that already felt like a sentence.

Chapter Text

The Unknown Regions

When Rey noticed the empty couch that morning, she breathed a sigh of relief. She was glad she didn’t have to wake up to the visage of Kylo Ren.

“Where’s the Emperor?” she asked one of her maids, doing her best to sound indifferent.

“He’s out riding, Your Highness,” the girl replied, bowing.

Noticing the flicker of concern that passed over Rey’s face and mistaking it for disappointment, she quickly added, “He left just as the sun came up, but I’m sure he’ll join you before breakfast.”

She smiled, trying to be reassuring.

Rey said nothing. She wished he’d stay away forever. Still, after what had happened the night before, she no longer felt the need to guard herself with a knife or keep one eye open while she slept. He had made it clear that he wouldn’t touch her. That, at least, was a comfort.

The whole ordeal already felt like a fever dream, one she’d rather forget.

Now, a different dread took root in her stomach: the journey to Naboo. Her parents and their entire retinue would be returning to home, but Rey had been granted the company of a few of her own maids and Jess, thankfully, would stay by her side.

She had never spent a single day apart from her parents. The thought of watching them ride away and vanish into the horizon was almost more unbearable than the wedding itself.

When she met them that morning, they both seemed in unexpectedly good spirits. Her mother pulled her in for a long embrace, then cupped her face in her hands and searched her eyes.

“How is he?” she asked gently.

“Considerate.” Rey answered dispassionately.

Her mother’s face lit up with relief. “That’s good,” she smiled.

Around them, troopers were clearing up and dismantling tents, putting out fires and collecting their weapons.

After weeks in the desert, they were all finally going home.

At the breakfast tent, Rey saw that Kylo Ren had arrived before them. He was already seated at the long table and gestured wordlessly for Rey to sit on his left. The King and Queen took the seats to his right. Snoke, cold and unreadable, sat at the far end, directly across from the Emperor.

It wasn’t long before Snoke noticed the bandage on Kylo Ren’s hand.

“Your Majesty, what happened?” he asked, nodding toward it.

Kylo Ren raised his hand with theatrical slowness.

“Oh, it’s nothing, General,” he drawled. “My wife and I had quite the experience last night. Things just got a little…rough.”

Rey froze.

Her entire body tensed as heat surged to her face.

In front of my parents? she thought bitterly. How could he say that here, like this?

Laughter broke out around the table. Some officers tried to hide their amusement, casting sideways glances at each other, afraid to appear disrespectful. But Kylo Ren laughed with them, clearly pleased with himself.

Rey lowered her head and stared hard at the gold plate in front of her. Her face burned. Kylo Ren watched her from the corner of his eye, a faint smirk curving his lips as he slowly returned to his meal.

His movements were awkward, his bandaged hand was making it harder to eat, and Rey didn’t miss it. She bit into a piece of fruit with exaggerated calm, silently congratulating herself for the injury she’d inflicted.

Snoke, watched them both with growing suspicion. He studied the way Kylo Ren flexed his injured hand and the way the Princess’s shoulders had stiffened at his comment.

He wasn’t fooled.

He’d seen firsthand what became of those who dared raise a hand against the Emperor. Men impaled on spikes, families erased.

Yet this girl was alive and well, eating breakfast beside him.

What had changed? he wondered grimly.

Something was off.

“Write to me,” Rey whispered, her voice catching as her mother pulled her into a final embrace.

“I will,” her mother promised, brushing Rey’s hair away from her face. “And remember, he’s your husband now. His home is your home. Things will change, I promise. You’ll both…learn to get along.”

Rey nodded, but her lips trembled. Her mother kissed her forehead one last time, then pulled away before she could break down completely.

Their farewell was brief. Too brief.

Her father’s parting was colder. He kissed her hand but didn’t look her in the eye. Rey understood it was the only way he could hold himself together. The longer he stayed, the more it would undo him. And he needed to be strong, for the kingdom, for himself.

Rey stood still and watched as her family mounted their horses. Her brothers rode ahead, their faces grim. Her mother looked back several times, eyes already wet with tears. And then they were gone, swallowed by the desert, becoming nothing more than shapes in the sand.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Rey clutched the edge of her shawl and pressed it to her lips, trying to muffle her sobs. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. She had never spent a single day away from them, not one, and now she was leaving everything behind.

The sound of hooves approaching made her turn.

Kylo Ren was already astride his horse, dark and towering, the reins held loosely in his gloved hands. The wind caught his cloak, making it billow slightly behind him like a shadow.

“It’s time to go,” he said.

His voice was quiet. Unusually gentle.

Rey blinked at him, surprised.

“I know what it feels like,” he added in a low murmur, but she didn’t hear it. She turned her face away and stared once more at the horizon.

He watched her for a moment. The way her shoulders shook slightly. The way she bit her bottom lip so hard it turned pale. Her grief was raw, clumsy, and unhidden, so unlike the polished, practiced masks worn by noblewomen at court.

“There’s a sandstorm coming,” he said at last, louder this time. “We need to move before we’re caught in it.”

Rey gave a small nod but didn’t speak. Adjusting her veil against the wind, she climbed into her palanquin.

Then, the convoy began its slow march toward Naboo.

Naboo

“Who is the Princess?” Dowager Empress Leia Organa asked coolly, her gaze sharpening on the First Order officer who had come to deliver the news.

“Princess Rey of Jakku, Your Majesty,” he replied.

“Princess of Jakku?” Leia’s brows drew together. “I wasn’t aware King Prana even had a daughter.”

“The Emperor has married her, Your Majesty.”

He paused, waiting for a reaction, but Leia merely stared ahead, her frown deepening.

“I was not informed of a marriage,” she said at last, her voice quiet but edged with steel. “I wasn’t even told there had been an attack on Jakku.”

Although Leia rarely saw her son, she had been present at all of his previous weddings. This time felt different, hasty, hidden. She wondered who this girl was, what power she held, and why Kylo had chosen her without so much as a word to his mother.

“They’ll be arriving soon,” the officer continued. “The Emperor wishes for you to receive her…and to prepare her chambers.”

He held out a scroll, his instructions, signed in Kylo Ren’s bold, impatient hand. Leia took it and scanned the contents, her mouth tightening the further she read.

“I’ll need to speak to Phasma about her accommodations,” she murmured. “This isn’t something I can manage alone, by the looks of it.”

Rey had fallen asleep partway through the journey, lulled by the steady sway of the palanquin and the rhythm of marching hooves. When she woke again, it was to the sound of the whistling and singing of troopers, their voices lifted in cheer.

They were home.

A strange chill swept over her, unlike anything she’d known. She pulled her shawls closer around her shoulders and, parting the embroidered curtains of the palanquin, leaned out cautiously.

Her breath caught.

Green. Everywhere she looked was green. Rolling hills, thick grass, dense woods, alive, rich, endless. The dry, golden sands of Jakku had vanished entirely. Even the earth beneath them was covered in moss and clover, and not a single grain of sand was to be seen.

They were passing through a meadow now, speckled with wildflowers of every imaginable color. Red, blue, yellow, violet, they danced in the breeze like tiny flags of welcome. For a moment, Rey forgot her grief. All she wanted was to leap out of the palanquin, run barefoot into that field, and roll in the grass like a child.

“Is something wrong, my lady?”

It was Finn, riding swiftly alongside her. He had seen the look on her face.

Rey found her voice, though it trembled with wonder.

“I never knew there was this much green in the whole world,” she whispered, almost in tears.

Finn laughed, the sound warm and easy.

“And you’ll see plenty more of it too.”

Just then, a butterfly flitted past her nose, and Rey let out a small, startled squeal of delight.

Finn grinned. “And more of those as well,” he said, watching her eyes light up at the little things he had long taken for granted.

As the Emperor had instructed, Leia had gathered some of the ladies and wives of the harem to welcome the newest member of the imperial household. But the mood had been tepid at best. Whispers had already circulated: the Emperor would not be accompanying his new bride through the harem gates, and many of the women took this as a sign that the marriage was of little consequence. Some stayed in their chambers, feigning illness. Others sent excuses.

In the end, only a small, tight cluster of women remained near the entrance with Leia, their silk shawls drawn close against the crisp morning breeze. Leia herself was too preoccupied to scold them, or even care. She was still turning over a dozen unanswered questions in her mind. Who was this desert Princess? What had made her son choose her so suddenly? And why had he kept it all so secret?

“They’re here,” she murmured, straightening her spine as the towering gates of the harem creaked open. The royal procession halted in front, dust and horsehair swirling in the light.

To Leia’s surprise, Kylo Ren was the first to ride through. He swung down from his horse with an urgency she hadn’t expected, his boots crunching against the stone path as he marched towards them. His cloak flared behind him like a storm.

His eyes swept over the gathering, sharp and dark.

“Where is everyone?” he demanded. His voice was low, but it struck the air like a blade. “I gave explicit instructions for a welcome.”

Leia stepped forward, composed but flustered.

“I did ask them to gather,” she began carefully. “But we were told you wouldn’t be coming through the gates with…”

“Is it too much,” he interrupted, louder now, “to expect that my wives, my court, show their faces when I return after months of war?”

He looked around again, eyes like thunderclouds, and the women who were present shrank back slightly, none daring to meet his gaze.

Leia swallowed, keeping her voice level. “I apologize, Your Majesty. It won’t happen again.”

She didn’t notice the young woman at first, the one who had just risen out of the grand red and gold palanquin and now stood quietly a little way behind Kylo Ren.

He sighed and extended an arm back without looking.

The young woman stepped forward at once, obedient but composed, and only then did Leia truly see her.

She came face to face with her new daughter-in-law.

Rey brought her hands together in greeting, her fingers trembling just slightly.

Leia met her eyes, clear, cautious, and full of sorrow and something in her chest softened. Without a word, she stepped closer, took Rey’s face gently in both hands, and kissed her forehead.

“Welcome,” Leia said, her voice warm and maternal.

Rey had been bracing herself for suspicion, disdain, maybe even cruelty, but Leia’s gaze was kind, her touch careful and familiar. In that moment, Rey felt a fleeting comfort, as though she were once more in her mother’s arms.

“Well then,” Kylo Ren’s voice broke the stillness, clipped and brusque. “I have things to do.”

He turned to his mother. “You can show her to her rooms.”

“Of course,” Leia said, still smiling at the girl before her. “I’ll make sure she has everything she needs.”

As the servants moved about, carrying in her belongings and arranging them with quiet precision, Rey wandered slowly through her new chambers, taking in every detail.

She had expected something colder, perhaps austere, maybe even prison-like. But the rooms were beautiful. Spacious. Airy.

The ceilings arched high above her, painted in soft pastels that reminded her of sunrise on the desert dunes. A mural graced the far wall opposite the bed: a stag and a doe grazing peacefully in a sun-drenched meadow.

It was grander than anything she had ever known, far removed from the familiar sun-baked stone of her home in Jakku. Her chambers there seemed like a child’s room now by comparison.

Still, she couldn’t shake the unfamiliarity of it all. This wasn’t home.

And yet, the one thing she hadn’t expected, the mother of Kylo Ren, was turning out to be the gentlest surprise. Rey had braced herself for a woman just like her son: cold, commanding, unreadable. But Leia Organa had shown her nothing but warmth and calm dignity.

When Rey first looked into her eyes, she had caught her breath. They were Kylo Ren’s eyes. That same soft, deep brown. But where his gaze struck like steel, hers cradled like velvet.

“What do you think of your new rooms?” came Leia’s voice from the doorway.

Rey turned, startled.

“I like them,” she replied, meaning it.

She glanced around once more, then gestured to the small but exquisite shrine set against the wall—her altar, freshly built and already adorned with flowers.

“Thank you for that.”

Leia smiled gently and shook her head.

“You should be thanking the Emperor. Though I’ll admit,” she added, stepping into the room, “I was surprised he gave in to your demands.”

Rey let out a dry, almost tired laugh.

“I had to look out for myself somehow. I’m just glad he didn’t say no.”

Leia studied her, quiet for a moment. Rey couldn’t tell whether it was admiration or sorrow in her eyes. Perhaps both.

She reaching out to place a hand on Rey’s shoulder. She wanted to take the poor girl into her arms, to hold her the way she might have held her own daughter in another life. But Leia hesitated. She wasn’t sure how Rey would react to the embrace of a stranger. Especially one from the family she now lived among by force, not by choice.

And yet, Leia didn’t want to remain strangers for long. There was something about this girl that stirred her deeply. A quiet strength. A defiant sadness.

Leia also knew the girl likely considered her an enemy, a woman complicit in the violence that had stolen her freedom, her fiancé, and her home. But Leia had had no say in her son’s actions, no power to stop the wheels of conquest once they had begun to turn.

Even so, she had to try.

“Rey,” she began gently, swallowing the lump in her throat, “I would like you and me to be friends.”

Her voice was quiet, but the hope in her eyes was impossible to miss.

Rey looked at her, a little stunned. She didn’t quite know what to say. She already respected the Dowager Empress, maybe even admired her. But how could she forget where she was? This was the enemy’s palace, and she was their prize. Even kindness could be a trap.

Still, something in Leia’s gaze made her want to believe otherwise.

“I…I should like a friend,” Rey said softly, hesitantly.

Leia’s face broke into a warm, motherly smile.

“Then let it begin today,” she said. “And remember, if you ever need anything, anything at all, even just someone to talk to…I’ll always be here.”

Before Rey could respond, the door opened and Jess entered the room, stopping short at the sight of the Empress. Her expression shifted instantly, and she bowed stiffly, the distrust plain on her face.

Leia took the cue. “I should go. I see I’m interrupting,” she said, stepping back. With a final, meaningful look at Rey, she slipped quietly out of the room.

As the door shut behind her, Jess straightened and scowled.

“What did she want?”

Rey paused before answering.

“To be friends.”

Jess sniffed, her lip curling in suspicion.

“I hope you didn’t fall for that act.”

Rey looked back at the mural on the wall; at the stag and his doe, grazing together in peace.

“No,” she whispered. “But I think she meant it.”

Jess muttered something about fraternizing with enemies and Rey, irritated, Rey flung her shawl at her.

“We can’t shut ourselves away forever!” she snapped. “A friendship with the Dowager Empress could prove useful in the future. Just think!”

Jess caught the shawl and folded it quietly. “I suppose you’re right,” she murmured. “We really are in a hopeless position right now, aren’t we?”

Rey turned to look at her, her oldest friend, her constant. She didn’t know what she would do without Jess.

“Jess…you know, you don’t have to do this.”

Jess frowned, puzzled. “Do what?”

“You don’t have to stay here with me,” Rey said gently. “This is my burden to bear. I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

Jess’s eyes widened, glistening.

“If you’re thinking about sending me away, then don’t you dare!” she cried, her voice breaking.

“No, no. I don’t want that,” Rey said quickly, reaching for her. “I’ll be selfish and say I want you to stay… but only if you want to. I couldn’t live with myself if I made you suffer for something that isn’t your fight.”

Jess didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward and threw her arms around Rey, burying her face in the crook of her neck.

“I’m staying whether you like it or not,” she whispered through her tears. “You’re not going through this alone.”

Rey held her tighter, her own eyes brimming. In a world where everything else had changed, Jess was the one thing she could still count on.

Rey didn’t notice Kylo Ren at first.

He entered her room the next morning without knocking, his stride confident, arrogant, familiar, as if he owned the space.

She startled slightly when she turned and saw him already inside.

She hadn’t expected him to come near her again so soon, not after the incident on their wedding night.

“Please take off your shoes when you come into my room,” she said coldly, pointing to the small shrine of the Goddess in the corner.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. Rey could tell he wanted to refuse, he was not a man used to being told what to do. But after a long pause, he stepped back, slipped out of his slippers, and entered barefoot.

The room was still in disarray. Boxes and trunks crowded every corner. Her clothes and jewelry had been laid out across couches, stools, and every available surface. As Rey carefully folded a blanket that had fallen to the floor, Kylo scanned the room for a seat, then casually and deliberately, sat down on her bed.

Rey straightened, slowly. She didn’t bother hiding her displeasure.

“May I know what it is I’ve done to warrant the pleasure of your company?” she asked, brushing invisible lint off the blanket before placing it back in a trunk.

Kylo’s gaze trailed the elegant curve of her waist as she moved. When she looked back at him, his expression was unreadable.

“You’re my wife,” he said, as though that were explanation enough.

Rey glared at him.

“Don’t worry,” Kylo Ren rose from the bed. “This will probably be the last time I step foot in this room.”

He gave the space a sweeping glance, eyes lingering longer than necessary on the silk drapes, the incense burner by the shrine and then on Rey.

“My mother did well,” he added, voice cool. “She always did have good taste. This is one of the finest rooms in the harem.”

Rey didn’t look up from where she was folding a silk scarf, but her tone was clipped. “Your mother is kind. And generous.”

“She is,” he said, watching her closely. “She also made sure your rooms were close to mine.”

That made her pause.

“What?”

Kylo’s lips twitched. “I said, you’re just across from me.”

She turned then, sharply, her shawl slipping from one shoulder. “Why?”

He shrugged, stepping further into the room. “Ask her. Or maybe she assumed a bride would want to be near her husband.”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t reply.

He wandered, fingers grazing the back of her chair as he passed. “If you need help settling in, you can speak to my mother. Or to Phasma.”

“The first wife,” Rey murmured, half to herself.

Kylo smirked. “She keeps order. She’ll show you what’s expected. Though you seem to enjoy making your own rules.”

Rey’s gaze snapped to him. “Only when I’m trapped in someone else’s game.”

He stepped closer, just enough that she had to tilt her chin to meet his eyes. “You should be careful,” he said, voice dropping. “The harem runs on silence, not steel. That knife under your pillow won’t help you here.”

Rey held her ground. “Neither will your crown.”

There was a flicker of something in his expression, amusement? Admiration? It vanished quickly.

“Then we’re even,” he murmured. “I came only to deliver a message. After this, we needn’t see each other again.”

“Good,” she breathed, but her voice wavered just slightly.

He heard it. Smirked.

His gaze dipped, slowly, tracing the curve of her collarbone before returning to her face. “Though it’s a shame,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “I rather like watching you when you’re angry.”

She stared, stunned for half a second, before she turned away.

“Out,” she ordered quietly.

He obliged, turning without another word.

But as he stepped through the doorway, he paused.

Over his shoulder, he said, low and dangerous, “Careful, Princess. If you keep looking at me like that… I might stop leaving.”

Arrogant bastard

Then he was gone.

Rey stood still for a long time, pulse racing, the silk scarf clutched too tightly in her hand.

He had done this on purpose. Provoked her. Got under her skin like it was some kind of game. And she’d let him.

Walking to her bed, she reached under her pillow and pulled out the silver dagger, her fingers closing around the cool hilt. Just the weight of it grounded her.

But the way he had looked at her…

She shook her head as if the motion would fling the memory from her mind.

“I don’t care what he says,” she told the empty room. “He won’t break me.”

She walked to the shrine in the corner, knelt before it, and closed her eyes.

Let him play his games. Let him circle her like a wolf. She’d play along, until the moment came to bite back harder.

Chapter Text

Naboo

As her servants scurried about preparing for the Emperor’s arrival, Phasma lay sprawled luxuriously on her stomach atop her vast, silken bed, the morning sun casting a golden halo across the smooth planes of her bare back. She stretched like a cat in the warmth, barely lifting her head as she barked out commands to the flurry of maids bustling around her.

“Careful with those petals, Sila! Not in my hair, on the pillows!”

One maid was fumbling to scatter rose petals with one hand while trying to light a candelabra with the other, her face flushed with panic. A puff of breath, a hiss of flame, and one candle flickered to life. Two more to go.

Phasma grinned. She adored this chaos, her chaos. The nervous energy, the scented smoke, the anticipation of power returning to its rightful place: her chambers.

“He’ll be here soon!” she called out, flipping onto her back, arms stretched wide, basking in the opulence of her preparations.

Last night, she had waited. Dressed, perfumed, prepared. And he hadn’t come.

She’d understood instantly. She always did. The mistake had been hers. She hadn’t gone to greet his new bride. The Princess of Jakku. A nobody. A usurper. She should have made an appearance, even if just to show indifference. But she hadn’t. And Kylo Ren was not a man who tolerated defiance from his wives, not even from her.

Phasma wasn’t foolish enough to beg. But she was wise enough to act fast. A note had been sent at first light. A calculated apology. A subtle reminder of the years they had shared. A veiled suggestion that she was, above all, loyal.

To her immense satisfaction, the messenger had returned with a reply.

And now, the Emperor would come.

Her eyes drifted toward the open balcony doors. The gardens beyond were in bloom, but Phasma barely saw them. Her thoughts danced between tactics and temptation. She had known him since he was a prince. She knew his patterns, his moods, his pride. And she would remind him of what they had built together. Remind him of who he could trust.

Of who truly belonged at his side.

She sat up and began to fasten the gold bangles around her wrists, her eyes sharp and calculating.

All she needed now was a good excuse for missing the Empress’s arrival.

Something that would sound plausible… and just careless enough not to be insulting.

Preferably something involving silk, blood, and a dramatic fainting spell.

She smirked.

Yes. That would do nicely.

“Good morning,” came a deep voice from the doorway.

Phasma spun around, her eyes immediately locking with the Emperor’s.

Kylo Ren stood just beyond the threshold, shrouded in the shadowed light of the hallway, his dark robes hanging stiffly from broad shoulders. The moment their eyes met, she felt it, he was still in a foul mood. But that didn’t bother her. If anything, it gave her a thrill.

Phasma’s lips spread into a radiant smile as she leapt gracefully from the bed. She didn’t hesitate. With a single wave of her hand, she dismissed the flurry of servants. They bowed low and scurried out without a sound, leaving the chamber thick with incense and expectation.

The door shut behind them.

She crossed the room in two long strides and threw her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his, lips brushing his ear.

“I was expecting you,” she purred, her voice like warm honey.

But Kylo Ren was already pulling away. He unhooked her hands from behind his neck and stepped back, jaw tight, eyes flashing.

“Where were you yesterday afternoon?” he asked, voice low but edged with steel.

Phasma didn’t flinch. Never flinch. That was the second rule. The first was never argue. You managed Kylo Ren, you didn’t meet him head-on.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” she said smoothly, gliding back toward the bed to sit. She let the silk of her robe fall open just slightly, enough to tease, to remind him. “A touch of heatstroke. I was out in the sun. You know how much I hate sunlight…”

Kylo’s brow twitched, unconvinced.

“I would never deliberately miss such an important moment, Your Majesty,” she added, her voice dipping in mock remorse. “I even had a gift prepared for her. Would you like me to send it now?”

He said nothing, but his silence wasn’t an invitation. His gaze lingered on her, cool, calculating, but there was no mistaking the way it dropped to the hollow of her collarbone, the open curve of her thigh.

Phasma leaned back on her hands, eyes half-lidded, letting the moment stretch.

She didn’t need him to forgive her, not yet. But she needed him to remember her place in his life. And in his bed.

“Your Majesty, did you sleep well?” Phasma asked in a low, velvety voice, leaning in to brush her lips lightly against his cheek. “How are you this morning?”

“I specifically ordered everyone to wait for me at the entrance when I arrived,” Kylo growled, not returning her gaze. “Do you know how humiliating it was to bring my bride home to such a poor reception?”

Phasma smiled sweetly, unfazed.

“You never told me you were getting married,” she replied, almost teasing.

“I’m not required to tell you everything,” he snapped.

Phasma pouted. “I thought we were best friends…”

“You don’t get to question me.” His voice turned sharp, dangerous. “I will do as I please. And you will do as I say.”

He turned away, tension still simmering beneath his skin.

“Make sure it never happens again.”

Phasma knew then, she was safe. At least for now. Slowly, she reached for his hand, and this time he didn’t pull away. She guided him toward the bed, where they sat together on the edge before she gently coaxed him to lay his head in her lap. Her fingers began to thread through the soft waves of his hair, and he closed his eyes, breathing out heavily.

“So…” she murmured, stroking his scalp, “how is the new wife?”

Kylo didn’t respond at first.

“She’s fine.”

“She’ll be a difficult one,” Phasma said, softly but deliberately.

His eyes opened, sharp. “Why do you say that?”

Phasma smiled. “A woman who makes demands of a man before the wedding is never a good sign. And a man who gives in to them? That’s an even worse one.”

Kylo sighed. He’d expected such sentiments. Everyone, by now, had heard of the conditions Princess Rey had placed before the marriage. No one had dared speak of them openly, except for Snoke, and now Phasma. He should’ve shut her down, silenced her with a look. But instead, he felt compelled, irritated yes, but oddly compelled to explain himself.

“I had to do it for political reasons,” he said flatly.

“Ah,” Phasma said, her voice cool and unconvinced.

She leaned over him a little more, fingers curling behind his ear as her curiosity got the better of her. “So…do you like her? Is she beautiful?”

Kylo sat up abruptly. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

Phasma’s eyes glinted as she masked her smirk.

“If you called me here to interrogate me.” he said “then I’d rather leave…”

“No, no…” she cooed, gently pressing him back onto the bed. Her lips brushed his ear as she whispered, “Let’s not talk about her. This is our day.”

And then, without waiting for permission, she kissed him.

He kissed her back.

But even in the heat of it, Princess Rey of Jakku wouldn’t leave Phasma’s thoughts.

But she wasn’t the only one.

Though his hands roamed over familiar skin, Kylo Ren’s mind drifted elsewhere, to a dagger’s edge pressed to his throat, to the fury in a pair of dark, defiant eyes. He could still feel the sting in his palm from where she had cut him. And now, even as he lay with another, it was her name his pride cursed.

And her fire his thoughts followed.

Rey tried her best to make herself at home.

The rooms were grand, the food exquisite, and every luxury a young royal bride could ask for had been laid at her feet. But none of it filled the ache in her chest. She felt alone, like a beautiful bird placed in a gilded cage, admired from afar, but untouched and unseen.

A few of the wives and women from the harem had come by with the usual gifts, jewellery, delicacies, bolts of silk, but the visits had been brief, their smiles tight, their eyes watchful. Rey had sensed more curiosity than welcome. None of them returned in the days that followed.

She sat cross-legged on her bed across from Jess, their shawls bunched at their waists, the afternoon sun slanting through the carved windows in streaks of gold.

“I feel like I’m sinking,” Rey confessed at last, her voice quiet. “Even with all this… all of this, it’s like I’m not really here.”

Jess straightened, throwing her arms out dramatically. “Excuse me! You have me! I’m still here!”

That earned a soft laugh from Rey. She reached over and squeezed Jess’s hand.

“And I don’t need anyone else,” she said gently. “Not when I’ve got you. But…Jess, can you imagine us living like this for the rest of our lives?”

Jess exhaled slowly. “No,” she admitted. “That wouldn’t be possible. But maybe we don’t have to. Maybe we’ll figure it out, build something of our own here. Make it bearable, at least.”

Rey nodded, though her gaze had dropped to her lap. She toyed with a thread in her skirt.

“It’s not so bad here…I mean, the Dowager Empress seems kind. And it looks like the Emperor will leave me alone from now on.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jess grinned, straightening her back with mock solemnity.

They both giggled, and for a brief, shining moment, the heavy shadows of uncertainty lifted.

But then Jess bit her lip and leaned in again, her voice dropping low.

“You know, Rey… we might not be totally alone here.”

Rey blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Jess said, her eyes gleaming with excitement, “I got a chance to walk around Naboo city yesterday with Finn, and you won’t believe it, but there are many people of our faith living here.”

Rey’s eyes widened. “What? I thought that wasn’t even allowed…”

“Only inside the palace,” Jess cut in quickly. “Outside, in the city, it’s different. Apparently, the Emperor’s grandfather, Anakin Skywalker, granted freedom of worship to all faiths across Naboo.”

Rey stared at her in stunned silence. Of all the things she had been told about the Skywalker line, tolerance had never been among them.

“I…I never knew that,” she whispered, eyes narrowing as the idea reshaped her perception. “I thought…I thought they were monsters.”

Jess nodded. “I know. But listen to this…” she lowered her voice even further, gripping Rey’s arm tightly, “the reason he was so tolerant? It was because of his wife. Padmé Amidala.”

Rey felt the breath catch in her throat. “His wife?”

“Yes,” Jess said, her voice soft now, reverent. “She was one of us, Rey. She followed our faith. She made sure it survived, even in a place like this.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Rey’s heart was thundering in her chest. The idea of a woman like Padmé, one of them, married into the bloodline of tyranny, and yet planting seeds of compassion and spiritual freedom… it sent shivers up her spine.

“She must’ve been powerful,” Rey said finally, her voice almost a prayer.

Jess smiled. “Maybe not in the way they are. But in her own way? I think she changed everything.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of a young palace messenger, a girl no older than fourteen, bowing low with two scrolls clasped in her hands.

“My lady,” she said, eyes downcast, “I was instructed to deliver both of these messages to you.”

Jess took them, nodding curtly, and Rey gestured for the girl to go. Once the door closed behind her, Jess began to unroll the first scroll.

“Well, this is interesting,” she muttered, her brow lifting as her eyes scanned the parchment. “It’s from the Emperor’s first wife, Phasma. She requests your presence in her chambers. Immediately.”

Rey’s shoulders slumped as she groaned. “So the beloved first wife finally remembers I exist.”

Jess smirked. “Shall I go with you and accidentally knock something over?”

“I think I can survive her claws,” Rey said dryly.

Jess was already unrolling the second scroll, and her amusement faded quickly.

“Oh,” she said, blinking. “This one’s from Maz Kanata.”

Rey’s expression sharpened. “Maz Kanata? The soothsayer?”

“That’s what it says. She requests a private meeting outside the palace walls.” Jess looked up. “It’s handwritten.”

Rey moved quickly to her mirror, fingers already fussing with her hair. “What’s she doing here?” she muttered. “She never leaves the Outer Rim.”

Jess shrugged. “I’ll speak to the Dowager Empress, see if she’ll grant you permission to leave. With Maz, it might be worth it.”

Rey nodded. “Do that. I’ll deal with Phasma first and see how sharp the knives in her smile are.”

Jess snorted. “The Goddess must be listening to your prayers after all,” she said, rolling up the scrolls with a wink. “You’re a popular girl today, Rey.”

Rey made her way alone down the winding garden path toward the left wing of the harem, where the chambers of Phasma, the Emperor’s first wife, were located.

The morning sun glinted off the gilded latticework as she passed, but Rey hardly noticed. She had never seen Phasma before, only heard about her—the favored wife, the one who shared the Emperor’s throne at state functions, seated to his right on a dais of gold. The one with the whispered reputation of commanding as much fear as respect. Phasma hadn’t even appeared to welcome Rey when she arrived. Not a message, not a glance. Perhaps she considered it beneath her to greet the newest addition to the Emperor’s collection of wives.

Rey told herself she didn’t care.

The guards at Phasma’s door stepped aside the moment she approached, and Rey entered into a room so opulent she stopped short. The ceilings were higher than her own, painted with constellations in gold leaf. Silk-draped windows filtered the light into a soft amber haze. Incense and rosewater perfumed the air, and the chamber pulsed with a languid, calculated luxury.

Phasma was reclining on a low velvet couch, exhaling silver tendrils of smoke from a tall, ornate hukka. Her hair was cropped short and pale blonde, her eyes a steely blue, and she wore a flowing robe of crimson and copper that shimmered like firelight. She looked beautiful, powerful.

But she didn’t rise. She didn’t speak.

She simply looked Rey over, slowly, carefully, like one might appraise an antique or a threat.

Rey bowed, stiffly, wordlessly.

Phasma finally broke the silence, her voice smooth as silk and twice as cutting.

“Please, sit.”

She gestured lazily toward a low stool set slightly below her own seat.

Rey eyed the stool with open disdain. Then, lifting her chin, she stepped past it and remained standing.

“No, thank you,” she replied coldly. Her voice was steady, but her eyes flashed.

Phasma arched a brow, amused. “Suit yourself,” she said with a lazy shrug, unfazed.

She took a long, deliberate pull from the hukka, exhaled slowly and blew the silvery smoke in Rey’s direction. A test, perhaps. But Rey didn’t flinch. She stood perfectly still, her silence just as pointed as the smoke curling around her.

At last, Phasma spoke again, her tone dry and unrepentant.

“You must forgive me for not greeting you at the gates,” she said, though there wasn’t a trace of apology in her voice. “It’s not something I make a habit of. I’ve never personally welcomed any of the new wives before, but this time…” She paused, dragging her eyes slowly over Rey’s form. “This time, I wanted to make an exception.”

She waited.

Rey didn’t respond. She stood as immovable as a statue, her face unreadable. Phasma’s gaze sharpened.

The silence dragged until Phasma leaned forward, her voice dropping an octave.

“What do you think of the Emperor?” she asked abruptly, her words as swift and sharp as a blade. “He seems to like you?”

Rey blinked. “Like me?” she repeated, caught off guard by the question. Her voice rang deeper and firmer than expected.

Phasma smiled faintly, like a cat watching a mouse wake up. “Yes,” she said coolly. “He’s been… rather attentive to you, hasn’t he? Let’s talk about that.”

Rey frowned, her spine straightening instinctively. Whatever she had expected from this meeting, veiled threats, contempt, perhaps even open disdain. This was not it.

She studied Phasma carefully now, trying to read the motive behind her words. There was something in her voice that was not jealousy, not exactly. It was curiosity, but the kind that concealed teeth. And Rey knew then: Phasma hadn’t summoned her just to intimidate her. She was assessing her.

And Rey had no intention of playing into her hands.

She watched with thinly veiled disapproval as Phasma took another languid pull from the hukka. The sweet, spiced smoke curled around her golden hair like a halo—though there was nothing saintly about the smirk playing on her lips.

When Phasma turned her bright, calculating eyes back to Rey, they gleamed with amusement.

“You know,” she said smoothly, “the Emperor is the most powerful man in the country. There are women like you who would kill for a chance to be his wife.”

“Women like me?” Rey repeated, her voice calm but her gaze sharpening.

“Yes,” Phasma said breezily, as though the insult were incidental. “Princesses from impoverished kingdoms. You should count yourself lucky, really.”

“I beg your pardon,” Rey said slowly, carefully. “But I don’t believe I understand what you mean at all.”

Her voice was syrupy-sweet, but her eyes glittered like ice. The air between them thickened. Rey wasn’t going to be baited that easily.

Phasma chortled softly, swirling the pipe between her fingers like a queen twirling a sceptre.

“Our Emperor is the most desirable man in the realm,” she said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “He only needs to glance at a woman to leave her breathless. It’s a known fact.”

Her eyes flicked to Rey again, hungry for a reaction. But Rey only raised an eyebrow. The comment floated in the air between them, toxic and ridiculous, like the very smoke coming from Phasma’s lips.

Rey folded her arms.

“Forgive me,” she said, tone clipped. “But I haven’t noticed him doing much of that. Glancing, I mean. At me or otherwise.”

Phasma’s smile faltered ever so slightly.

“I suppose desire looks different to different people,” Rey went on coolly. “Some call it a glance. Others… call it a snake in their bed.”

Rey stared incredulously. Whatever Phasma was smoking, it had clearly gone straight to her head.

Phasma laughed, a rich, unexpected sound, but there was something brittle underneath it.

“So he didn’t touch you, then?” Phasma asked, recovering quickly, her curiosity now tinged with disbelief. “Not even on your wedding night?”

“No,” Rey said plainly.

This time, Phasma didn’t laugh. She only stared, eyes flickering like a candle about to go out.

Rey stood tall, her voice unshaking.

“If you summoned me here to remind me that I am unwelcome here, I’m already well aware. But I didn’t come here to beg for your approval,l. And I certainly won’t fight you for the attentions of a man who already disgusts me.”

Silence.

Then Phasma reclined once more into her cushions and took another drag from the hukka.

“You’ll do well here,” she said at last, eyes half-lidded. “If you live long enough.”

Rey thought she was about to be dismissed, but Phasma went on, her voice just a little too urgent, as if trying to convince herself.

“He sees other women, and then he always comes back to me. That’s how it’s always been between us.”

Rey smiled, cold and polite. “I would never dream of coming between you and your Emperor,” she said smoothly. “You may take comfort in knowing I’d rather he not come near me at all.”

Phasma straightened on the couch, her shawls slipping from her shoulders to reveal pale, sculpted arms and a blouse threaded in gold. She leaned forward, eyes gleaming.

“The Emperor is immune to love.”

Rey nearly laughed. In her world, no one was immune to love, not truly. But then again, this was Kylo Ren they were talking about.

“You can keep your Emperor,” She replied, standing her ground. “Like I said, I don’t want him.”

Phasma’s smile curled with satisfaction. “Are you sure?”

Rey raised an eyebrow.

“I can assure you,” she said “nothing your Emperor has done has left me trembling with desire.”

Phasma tilted her head, studying Rey with cool detachment.

“He was right,” she said softly. “You are foolish… and conceited.”

Rey stiffened. She was growing tired of standing here like a prized animal on display.

“I have an appointment,” she said flatly, turning slightly toward the door. “If you’ll excuse me…”

“There’s one more thing,” Phasma interrupted, raising a languid hand. Her voice had changed, silkier, almost friendly.

“I would love for us to be friends, Rey.”

Rey’s brow lifted, skeptical. The sudden shift was so jarring. Phasma smiled sweetly, as though their conversation hadn’t been laced with subtle threats and just moments earlier.

“I’m sure you and I will be great friends,” she continued, drawing out the word as if it carried a hidden weight. “If you stay on my good side, there could be… rewards. Valuable ones.”

Rey crossed her arms. “Such as?”

Phasma’s lips curled ever so slightly.

“The Emperor’s favor.”

Rey let out a dry, mirthless laugh. “I told you. I don’t want it.”

Phasma’s smile never reached her eyes. “Fine,” she said coldly. “You may leave.”

Rey turned without ceremony, walking toward the door, but she had only just reached it when Phasma spoke again.

“One more thing, Rey.”

Her voice was ice.

“You will treat me with more respect in the future.”

Rey froze. Her hand hovered over the door frame. The nerve of this woman. She insults me, mocks me, and now dares to demand respect?

She turned slowly, head held high.

“To be shown proper respect,” she said, her voice calm but cutting, “one must earn it first.”

Without waiting for a response, Rey swept out of the room, leaving Phasma motionless, her jaw tight, her eyes blazing.

For the first time in a long while, the Emperor’s favorite wife had been dismissed.

Phasma knew she was doing the Emperor a favor.

Ever since that insufferable girl from Jakku had walked out of her chambers with her head held high and her pride intact, Phasma hadn’t been able to rest. The sheer audacity. The arrogance. The gall.

Something about her, something beneath that veil of meekness and desert dust, itched at Phasma like a splinter under the skin. The new wife was not to be trusted. She was too proud, too composed, too… careful.

Which meant she was hiding something.

And Phasma would uncover it.

When Khema entered, Phasma smiled.

Her favorite servant, clever as a fox and twice as fast. Loyal too. Loyal in the way only someone with ambition could be. The girl bowed low, her eyes flicking up to her mistress, eager and alert.

“You called, my lady?”

Phasma didn’t answer right away. She swirled the wine in her golden goblet, watching the deep red cling to the rim like blood.

Then, softly, “Yes. I have a special task for you, Khema. One that requires…discretion.”

Khema straightened slightly, lips parting in anticipation.

Phasma fixed her with a stare.

“It’s to remain between us. No one else must know. Am I understood?”

Khema’s smile widened, and she bowed again. “Yes, my lady. You can trust me.”

“I know.” Phasma’s tone was velvet and ice. “That’s why I chose you.”

She took a sip of wine, leaned back into her cushions, and sighed as if already savoring the fruits of her plan.

“There’s a little pest in the palace,” she murmured. “A girl who does not know her place. And you and we’re, we’re going to show her where it is.”

Khema’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Princess Rey?”

Phasma didn’t confirm the name, but her smile darkened.

“Watch her. Listen. Follow. I want to know everything. Where she goes, who she sees, what she says. Especially what she says.”

She leaned forward, voice low and lethal.

“And when the time is right, we will show her what happens to women who forget that they are guests in this house.”

Khema bowed low, the hem of her skirts brushing the marble floor.

“I will not fail you, my lady.”

“I know you won’t,” Phasma whispered, her eyes flickering with malice.

“I’m too old for this,” Maz Kanata muttered to herself as she eased down onto the dusty stone pavement outside the palace gates. Her limbs throbbed, her joints stiff with fatigue, and her head spun from days of travel under sun and star. She had made the long, punishing journey from Jakku to Naboo alone, most of it on foot, with only one goal driving her: she had to see Princess Rey.

She wasn’t sure the girl would come. Perhaps the Queen had poisoned her heart against Maz. After all, the last time they’d spoken, Maz had foretold a future no mother wanted to hear. A future that had already come to pass.

The Princess of Jakku was now wife to the Emperor of the First Order.

There had been nothing Maz could’ve done to stop it. Some destinies arrive like storms, unstoppable, inevitable. There is no remedy for fate.

But then, to her quiet surprise, the Princess came.

Rey appeared at the gate, her familiar figure accompanied by her loyal friend Jess. She had changed, there was steel in her walk now, and a tightness around her mouth that hadn’t been there before.

Maz struggled to rise in greeting. “Princess… I meant to speak with you on your birthday, but you were…”

“No, no, please,” Rey interrupted gently, reaching to steady the old woman with a hand on her shoulder. “Sit down.”

Rey and Jess lowered themselves onto the pavement beside her. one on each side, forming a quiet, tight group. Maz sighed and looked at the girl she had once known so well.

“I just wanted to see you,” she said.

Rey nodded. “My mother told me she had summoned a soothsayer to the palace that day, but I didn’t know it was you. I was at the temple and…” She trailed off, glancing nervously at Jess. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken things.

But Maz already knew. She had seen it. She had predicted it.

Not that the girls were aware.

“I’m so sorry, Maz,” Rey said after a pause. “I think my mother forgot about your visit in all the chaos. She never told me you’d come.”

Maz’s sigh was heavier this time. She had no intention of repeating the full warning she had given the Queen, but even then, she hadn’t said everything. That day, she hadn’t dared.

“My dear Princess, there is something I must tell you” she began, voice soft but steady, “within the next few years, there will be unrest, conflict unlike any our country has seen in generations.”

Rey’s shoulders tensed. “And I’ve been forced to marry the man who’s causing it.”

“I know you didn’t choose this,” Maz said gently. “But even though your fate is written in the stars, you still have a choice. If you ever wish to leave this place… you can.”

Rey blinked, stunned. Hope stirred in her chest like a newly lit flame. “You mean… I can leave him?”

“When the time is right,” Maz said, eyes fixed on hers, “you will know.”

She hesitated, then added, “There is something else you must understand. You are the key to all of this.”

Rey’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“The key to what?” Jess asked, her voice low.

Maz closed her eyes. “Balance.”

The girls looked at her, puzzled.

“You may feel as though all hope is lost,” Maz continued, “but the Goddess always has a plan. She will show you the way. But the choice, the choice must be yours.”

Rey clenched her fists. “Are you saying… I have to kill the Emperor? Is that it?” Her voice shook but was full of resolve. “If that’s what you’re saying, I’ll do it. I’ll die trying.”

Maz turned to face her fully, her small, weathered hands gripping Rey’s tightly. Her eyes searched Rey’s as if trying to see through her soul.

“I can’t tell you what your path will be,” she said. “Only that when the time comes, you will know what must be done.”

The three of them fell silent, the dust rising gently around them in the breeze. Trees swaying gently. In the distance, a temple bell rang once.

Then Maz spoke again, her voice low and distant, like a memory whispered on the wind.

“I remember many decades ago, the planets were in a similar alignment to what they are now. We were close then…so close.” She shook her head. “But everything went wrong. Horribly wrong.”

Rey and Jess exchanged a glance. They had no idea what she meant. But something shifted in Rey. Something deep. She no longer felt like a girl cast adrift by destiny. She felt rooted. Chosen. As though some divine hand had finally touched her shoulder and said: This is not how this ends.

She didn’t yet know how. But she knew she had to be patient. She had to listen. Because the Goddess had plans.

And Rey would be ready.

Khema wandered through the hushed halls of the east wing of the Harem, her soft slippers making no sound on the polished marble floors. She had waited patiently for the perfect moment. And this was it. This was where her snooping would begin: the Emperor’s new wife, along with her ever-present companion, had gone out beyond the palace gates and weren’t expected to return for at least another hour or two.

This was the perfect opportunity.

With Phasma’s parting words duty, loyalty, reward, still echoing in her mind, Khema slipped into Princess Rey’s chambers unnoticed.

The room was quiet and filled with soft light and lightly decorated in hues of ivory and muted gold. It lacked the excesses of some of the other wives’ apartments, and there was a stillness to it that made her pause for just a moment.

A small alcove in the corner drew her eye. There stood the serene-faced idol of the Princess’s Goddess. A single stick of incense burned at her feet, releasing delicate ribbons of jasmine-scented smoke.

Khema wrinkled her nose and turned away. The smell made her uneasy, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, it only sharpened her resolve. She was here for answers. For secrets. For proof.

She rummaged through a pile of folded bedclothes, finding nothing. Then something beneath the bed caught her eye. A heavy wooden chest, tucked just out of sight. With effort, she dragged it out into the open.

It was a beautiful thing: dark polished wood, iron fastenings, and elegant detailing. But Khema wasn’t here to admire craftsmanship. She unlatched the lid and opened it.

Blank parchment.

That was all. Dozens of scrolls, neatly rolled and stacked.

Khema clicked her tongue in frustration. Maybe not today, she thought bitterly, already planning her next move. She would have to keep a close watch.

She was about to shut the lid when something nestled among the scrolls caught her attention. Something small, cold and not parchment.

She reached in and her fingers closed around it.

It was a glass vial, filled with a clear liquid and sealed with a cap of blood-red wax.

Khema stared at it. At first, it looked ordinary. Innocent, even.

Then it hit her.

A chill ran through her. She had seen a vial just like this once before, some years ago, in the pale, frozen hands of a palace maid who’d been found dead, floating face-up in the inner garden pond.

Poison.

She turned the vial over in her palm once, twice, then slipped it quickly into the cloth bag at her waist. Her heart pounded with a rush of glee and terror. Oh, the great lady will be very interested in this, she thought.

She pushed the chest back under the bed, gave the room one last sweeping glance, and slipped out silently the way she came.

Not bad for my first day, she thought, a triumphant smile curling on her lips.

Chapter Text

Naboo

Even though she had held no real power in the Empire for over twelve years, the Dowager Empress Leia Organa was never idle.

She made it her business to know exactly what the likes of Snoke and General Hux were up to on any given day. Fortunately, there were still a few within the upper ranks and elder councils who remained quietly loyal to her, veterans who had once ridden into battle at her husband’s side, men and women who had followed the old flag with pride, devoted to their cause till his dying day.

And Leia had spies of her own.

She knew she was being watched. Snoke had eyes on her constantly, Snoke, who she was certain spent his days whispering venom into her son’s ears, turning him inch by inch against her. Every second that man stood at Kylo Ren’s side was another second that chipped away at what little humanity remained in him.

If she was ever caught, she could be charged with treason. She could be executed.

But death did not frighten Leia Organa. Not anymore. She had once toppled an empire. She knew what it took to bend kingdoms to their knees. That was how she had won her crown in the first place.

Still, memories of her old life haunted her. In dreams, Han would return to her. Sometimes Luke. Sometimes it was her son as a baby, his little pink mouth curling into a smile, his chubby arms reaching up to be held. How she wished she had embraced him more. Kissed him more. Held him longer. Been there.

But she hadn’t been.

There’s no one to blame, Leia thought grimly, no one but Snoke.

She was lost in that thought when Rey found her, during one of her daily morning walks. The Dowager Empress stood at the top of the stone staircase that led from the entrance of the harem down to the gardens below, her arms folded, her gaze distant.

Rey had just reached the last step when she noticed her.

She bowed politely.

“Good morning, Your Majesty.”

Leia turned, her eyes softening at the sight of her.

“Rey,” she said, extending a hand. “Come walk with me.”

It was a cloudy morning, so the sun’s rays weren’t harsh. The air was crisp, touched with the scent of damp earth and leaves. Rey’s favorite part of these morning walks was the chorus of birdsong. So many different calls, chirps, and melodies weaving through the trees. The garden felt alive, almost enchanted, and as she and Leia strolled side by side, a butterfly danced through the air and fluttered between them, making them both pause.

“The Emperor used to love chasing butterflies when he was little,” Leia said softly, her voice distant. “He took his very first steps right here in this garden, trying to catch one.” She gave a tired sigh. “He was such a lovely little boy.”

Rey turned to her, trying to picture it, the Emperor as a child, dark hair bouncing, brown eyes wide with wonder, toddling unsteadily after a butterfly. The image stirred something unexpected in her. It was almost sweet. Almost. But she shook the thought away.

She looked at Leia again, really looked at her. The lines of grief and strength carved into her face. The way she carried herself, elegant, yet heavy with memory. Rey wanted to understand her. Who was this woman, really? How had she come to be what she was?

“Your Majesty…” she began.

Leia glanced at her with gentle eyes.

“Please,” she said, “you may call me mother.”

Rey hesitated. “Mother…” she repeated, tasting the word. “I just wanted to say…you’re nothing like I expected.”

“Oh?” Leia smiled faintly. “And what exactly did you expect, Princess?”

Rey shrugged, suddenly unsure. “It’s just… you’re so different from your…” The words caught in her throat. She dropped her gaze.

But Leia knew what she meant.

She reached out and took Rey’s hand in hers, warm and steady.

“I know the man my son has become,” she said quietly. “But he wasn’t always like this.”

Her voice darkened, her expression hardening with a mix of regret and resolve.

Rey knew this was a mother speaking of her son.

Months ago, she had stood before the altar of her Goddess, deep in the heart of her temple, and sworn a sacred vow: that she would avenge her people by bringing back the severed head of Kylo Ren. She had repeated those words like a prayer, a promise, a curse.

But now, standing in front of his grieving mother, watching Leia quietly wipe her tears with the edge of her shawl, a strange feeling settled over her, something between shame and pity. Rey had imagined the Skywalkers as monsters, warlords draped in blood and conquest. Yet here was one, made of flesh and feeling, mourning a son who had once chased butterflies in this very garden.

And Rey realized something else, she didn’t know them. Not truly. Not beyond the stories of violence, the battlefield legends, and the warnings whispered to her growing up. And for the first time, she wasn’t so sure they told the full story.

Leia, for her part, seemed more than willing to share. As if she had been waiting years, perhaps decades, for someone to simply listen. Her voice, when she spoke again, carried the weight of history and heartache. And Rey, bright-eyed and curious, listened.

“My family,” Leia began, “has rather humble beginnings for a royal house.”

Rey turned to her, surprised.

“My father, Anakin Skywalker, was the illegitimate son of the old King of Tatooine, Darth Plageuis. My grandmother was a palace slave.”

Rey gasped, blinking. “So you are the Skywalker?! Not the late Emperor?”

Leia gave a low, bitter chuckle. “Yes, I am the Skywalker. Not my husband. But Han fit right in. He had the right… temperament.”

Rey looked at her, trying to fit this image of the woman before her, a daughter of slaves turned Empress, into everything she thought she knew. And suddenly, the picture wasn’t so simple anymore.

Rey could not take her eyes off Leia as she continued.

“The old King of Tatooine and his Queen were childless, so the King allowed my father and grandmother to live in the palace. It’s said that he loved my father and raised him like a true prince.”

They turned a bend in the gravel path, their feet crunching softly beneath them as birdsong trickled through the trees overhead.

“It was the old King’s wish that after his death, his only son would inherit the throne. But before he could officially legitimize my father’s claim, the King died suddenly.”

Rey’s eyes widened. “So what happened? Your father became king, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Leia nodded. “But not without a fight. The King’s widow, his Queen, took the throne instead. The nobles refused to accept an illegitimate heir. They backed her.”

Leia paused, her mouth drawn into a hard line. “She was a jealous woman. Cruel. She had my grandmother murdered in her sleep.”

Rey gasped. Her hand flew to her chest, and for a moment she forgot where she was.

Leia’s voice softened. “My father was only nineteen. But he wasn’t a boy. With the help of his father’s old advisor, Darth Sidious, he staged a coup. Stormed the palace gates. Beheaded the Queen with his great sword and took the throne by force.”

A hush fell between them as the weight of the tale settled in the air.

“Mother,” Rey said slowly, testing the word on her tongue, “I didn’t know your family came from Tatooine. How did you end up here… in Naboo?”

Leia smiled faintly, her eyes far away. “Ah. That is another long story.”

Leia smiled and gestured toward a stone bench beneath the boughs of a flowering tree. The branches drooped under the weight of pink blossoms, and the air was rich with their scent. Rey followed her and sat down beside her, tucking her skirt beneath her knees.

“Well,” Leia began, “Naboo was my mother’s home. She became Queen when she was only thirteen years old. My father claimed he fell in love with her the moment he saw her, or at least, that’s how the story goes.”

Rey’s eyes widened, her voice no more than a whisper. “Padmé Amidala?”

Leia turned to look at her, surprised. “I see you know her name.”

Rey’s voice rose with hope. “Is it true… she was one of us?”

Leia studied her a moment before answering. “Yes.”

Rey broke into a bright smile. “Then you must be familiar with our customs!”

But Leia looked down at her hands folded in her lap.

“I never really knew my mother, Rey,” she said quietly. “She died when my brother and I were born. I never knew my father either. Not really.”

Rey’s smile faded.

Leia’s voice was heavy with memory. “They said he couldn’t even look at us. I think… I think he blamed us for her death. They said he changed after she died. He changed his name, too.”

A gust of wind swept through the garden, carrying with it a rain of flower petals and golden leaves. They fluttered down around them like blessings or omens. Rey would normally have smiled, but her mind was too full.

Leia continued, her voice a low murmur. “He spent the rest of his life conquering kingdoms, burning villages, bleeding the Empire dry. And when the killing was done, my brother and I were left to carry what remained.”

She paused to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye with the edge of her shawl.

“I’ve spent a lifetime trying to build something better. But now…” She trailed off.

Rey reached over and gently touched her hand.

“You’re not alone,” she said quietly. “You’re not the only one trying.”

“My brother wanted no part of it,” Leia sighed. “He wanted to devote his life to God and his teachings. So in the end, it was up to me to take charge. I hated it. But the people who helped put me on the throne were counting on me, I had to try and fix what my father destroyed.”

She paused, her voice quieter. “There was no way out. Not until I met Han. When I married him, I gave him the throne. I think he hated it as much as I did. But he did it… for me.”

Rey tilted her head. “But you were the one handling all the important matters, weren’t you?”

Leia gave a small, wistful smile. “I handled the politics. Han was the face of the Empire. He was a scoundrel, but the people adored him. He was a common man, and somehow, that made him their rightful king, not the daughter of a killer.”

Rey’s chest tightened. Leia had carried the sins of her father… and now, the burden of her son.

“I was too much in love to care,” Leia murmured. “I wanted a normal life. A stable family. I thought I could have both. But I should have stayed on the throne. If I had… maybe I could’ve kept Snoke away from my Ben.”

Rey looked up. “Who’s Ben?”

Before Leia could answer, a voice cut through the garden like a blade.

“Well, well, well,” came a slow drawl. “I should have known.”

Both women turned sharply. Kylo Ren was leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree, arms folded across his chest, watching them with an amused glint in his dark eyes.

It was the first time Rey had seen him in weeks. But he was unchanged, same imposing stance, same cold gaze, same maddening smirk.

“Plotting away with my mother, are you, Princess?” he said, his voice laced with mockery.

Rey rose to her feet, refusing to look unsettled.

“And what are you doing here, Your Majesty?” she asked sweetly. “Eavesdropping? I thought that was more a servant’s pastime.”

Kylo’s smile vanished, his expression darkening.

“I came to see you,” he replied sharply. “Though I should have guessed you’d find a friend in my mother. Birds of a feather, I suppose.”

Leia rose and stepped between them, as though trying to shield them from each other, mother and wife, caught between blood and bond. When she spoke to Kylo, her voice was soft, almost tentative.

“Ben… how are you? I never get to see you anymore.”

Kylo’s eyes remained fixed somewhere just beyond her shoulder. “I thought you preferred it that way, Mother.” His voice was cool, quiet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like a word with my dear wife.”

The edge in his voice made Rey blink. Ben. That’s what she had called him. Ben. So that was his name?

Leia didn’t respond to her son’s coldness. Not directly. But Rey could see her jaw tighten, her hands clasp behind her back. Still, when she spoke again, her tone was composed.

“I’m going to walk back to the palace,” she said, directing it to them both. “I’ll let you two talk. Good day to you both.”

“Good day, Mother,” Rey said politely, dipping her head, hoping, foolishly, that Leia might change her mind and stay.

Kylo stepped back to let her pass, muttering, “Mother. Good day.”

As she walked by, Leia reached out and brushed her fingers gently over her son’s arm.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look at her.

Then she was gone, and silence fell.

Kylo turned to Rey.

“I think you’ll be pleased to hear what I have to say, wife.”

Rey crossed her arms. “Oh, really?” she said with exaggerated sweetness.

He narrowed his eyes. “There’s no need to take that attitude with me.”

There it was again, that simmering dislike. He hated her pride. He always had.

Ever since the day he rode into Jakku and she dared to look him in the eye. Dared to defy him. He had sworn then that he would take everything from her. Her home. Her crown. Her name. And like every emperor before him, he had.

He had won. Fair and square.

He hadn’t intended to marry her. But when her father had shown up at his war camp, his kingdom surrendered, his pride in tatters, and offered up the hand of his only daughter like she were a prize colt, Kylo hadn’t refused.

At the time, it had felt like justice.

But something inside him had shifted the moment he watched Rey’s face as her family rode away without her. She hadn’t cried. She hadn’t begged. She had simply stood there, silent and unflinching, as the people who were supposed to love her abandoned her without so much as a backward glance.

It hit too close to home.

And so now, he found himself trying, awkwardly, perhaps foolishly, to make amends. If only she would let him.

“Is there something you wanted to say?” Rey’s voice cut through the morning air like a blade.

“Yes,” he replied. “I sent an invitation to your parents. I’ve asked them to come and stay with us for a few weeks.”

Rey’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You… you invited them?”

He nodded. “Your father mentioned they were interested in touring Naboo when we last met. I thought this would be the perfect time.”

Rey stared at him, speechless.

“I assumed you’d be pleased,” Kylo added, watching her reaction closely, his brow lifting in question.

“I…” she stammered, struggling to form words.

“I’ve already made arrangements,” he continued, his tone neutral. “The schedule is drawn up, I just need you to look over a few things.”

Rey could only nod, her breath catching in her throat.

“Good,” he said with a curt nod. Then, as he turned to leave, he added, “Also, I need you to be present at the court gathering this afternoon.”

And just like that, he was gone. Rey stood frozen, the sound of his boots fading along the garden path.

He had invited her parents. She would see them again.

Excitement stirred in her chest, but so did something colder. Fear. Doubt. A flicker of unease. Nothing was ever simple in the Imperial court.

But still.

She would see her parents again.

Poe Dameron scaled the outer wall of the Naboo palace and landed in a crouch on the soft grass below. He hadn’t the patience to waste on checkpoint formalities or negotiating with First Order guards. This way was quicker and Poe had never been one for obeying rules he didn’t believe in.

He had made up his mind the moment the King and Queen returned to Jakku: he was going after Rey. He’d told the royal couple of his intentions, but not Rey herself. She didn’t know he was coming. That was fine. He wasn’t doing this for thanks or recognition. He just couldn’t stand the idea of her stuck inside the stronghold of their enemy, cut off and alone.

He moved swiftly across the lawn toward the carved stone archway of one of the buildings. It was elegant and towering, but clearly not the palace’s main entrance. That didn’t matter.

He knew she was inside.

And he also knew that this was the harem.

No man other than the Emperor was permitted beyond its threshold. The punishment for trespassing was severe, death, if one was lucky. But Poe didn’t flinch. The law meant nothing to him if it meant abandoning Rey in enemy territory.

He wasn’t here on a rescue mission. He wasn’t here to start trouble. He was here because she was his friend. His people. His Princess. And if she was trapped behind silk curtains and golden gates, then he was going in after her.

Let the Emperor try to stop him.

Rey relayed the news of her parents’ impending arrival to Jess the moment she returned to her chambers, and Jess reacted exactly as she had expected.

“This can’t be anything good, Rey.”

And Rey knew what she meant. That same thought had crossed her mind the moment she heard the news. The Emperor didn’t do anything out of kindness. There had to be something more behind this sudden gesture.

“We’ll see,” was all Rey could say in response.

Her conversation with Leia Organa was still fresh in her mind. At first, she had felt only pity for the Dowager Empress. But the more she reflected on it, the more that pity gave way to something closer to admiration. Leia had endured war, heartbreak, and betrayal, and still managed to carry herself with a quiet dignity. Even her son’s coldness hadn’t broken her spirit.

But Jess remained unconvinced. When Rey had told her about the conversation, her warning had come swift and sharp.

“Don’t let them fool you, Rey. She’s not innocent. She helped build the First Order.”

Rey hadn’t argued. There was no time, and what good would it do? In just a few minutes, she and Jess would have to leave for the court gathering, and Rey had a dozen things to see to before then. Her family’s quarters, their schedule, their welcome, it was enough to keep her distracted. Just barely.

Jess watched Rey quietly, trying to read what was going on behind her friend’s unusually pensive expression. Ever since their meeting with Maz, Rey had been quieter, withdrawn, as though her mind was constantly elsewhere. Jess had dismissed the old woman as a harmless eccentric, but it was clear Maz’s words had burrowed deep into Rey’s thoughts.

“Rey, please don’t overthink it,” Jess said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Rey was just about to respond when a faint tapping noise interrupted her. Both women froze. It was coming from the balcony.

They turned in unison, only to see Poe Dameron waving at them from behind the railing.

Their horror was instantaneous.

Poe climbed over with ease, landing on the tiled floor with the casual swagger of someone who had done this many times before. He took a slow, approving look around Rey’s room.

“Not bad, Princess,” he nodded, coming to stand before them.

Then, with a grin, he winked at Jess. “So… did you miss me?”

Jess found her voice first. “You absolute idiot,” she hissed. “Do you want to get us all killed?!”

Poe raised his eyebrows. “Your Highness, is that really the best welcome you’ve got for me?” He turned to Rey. “I came all this way just to see you.”

“Poe, you can’t be here!” Rey cried, panic rising in her voice. “If someone sees you, you’re finished.”

“I know,” he said, tone more serious now. He held up his hands. “But I had to check on you. I’m just doing my duty. Anyway, I’ll sneak out before anyone notices.”

“You need to go now!” Jess grabbed his arm and steered him back toward the balcony doors.

“Poe. Wait,” Rey called, hurrying after them. “My parents are coming. Did you know?”

“I heard. I’m leaving today to meet them.”

“How are they?”

“They’re fine, Princess,” he said with a smile. “Just waiting to see you.”

Jess folded her arms and glared at Poe as he brushed imaginary dust off his sleeves like this was a casual social visit and not a potential death sentence.

“You really are the dumbest man alive,” she snapped.

Poe looked mock-wounded. “You wound me, Jessika. I thought you’d be glad to see my handsome face.”

“I was glad,” Jess shot back. “For exactly two seconds. Then I remembered you’re standing in the one place in the country where you’ll be executed just for breathing.”

Poe grinned, turning to Rey. “She missed me.”

“I did not!” Jess protested.

Rey finally smiled, just a little. “Both of you, please. This isn’t the time.”

“Exactly,” Jess said. “We have a court gathering in less than an hour, and you’re here doing your best impression of a death wish.”

“I came to check on Rey,” Poe said, raising his chin slightly. “She’s in enemy territory. You think I’m gonna sit around back home playing politics while you two parade around a harem full of spies?”

Rey softened at that. “I appreciate it, Poe. I really do. But this is dangerous.”

He shrugged. “Danger’s never stopped me before.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “Danger’s your love language.”

Poe chuckled. “If I’m not risking my life, how else would I show I care?”

“I don’t know,” Jess muttered. “Maybe a letter. Or a pigeon. Or literally anything that doesn’t involve scaling royal palace walls like some back-alley thief.”

Poe winked again. “But then I wouldn’t get to see your sour face.”

Jess pointed at the balcony. “Out.”

Poe raised his hands in surrender and backed away toward the railing.

Rey stepped forward. “Poe, be careful. If they catch you, I won’t be able to help you.”

He gave her a rare, serious look. “I know. But don’t worry. I won’t get caught.”

“Because you’re so good at being subtle,” Jess muttered behind her.

Poe threw one last grin over his shoulder. “I’m a pilot, not a spy. But I do alright.”

And with that, he vaulted over the railing and disappeared into the shadows.

Jess closed the balcony doors and locked them with a sigh. “That man, he’s going to give me grey hairs.”

Rey smiled, but her thoughts were already elsewhere.

The Imperial Court gathered once a week to discuss the Empire’s affairs. At the head of the grand assembly hall, the Emperor sat on his raised throne, flanked by his guards and servants, while rows of nobility, politicians, and Generals filled the lower tiers. Beside him, Snoke stood ever watchful, his hawk-like eyes roaming the crowd for any sign of disloyalty.

Today, the imperial family was allowed into the hall. A sheer silkscreen separated the section reserved for the Emperor’s mother and wives. In that secluded enclave, Phasma and the Dowager Empress sat at the head, with Rey and the other wives positioned behind them. At Rey’s request, Jess had been permitted to sit beside her, a small comfort in a sea of formalities.

As they took their seats, Phasma turned, a thin, mocking smirk playing on her lips.

“Hello, Princess,” she sneered.

Rey forced a composed smile, though the insinuation in Phasma’s gaze made her uneasy, as though the woman were sharing a secret with the room. Beside her, Leia Organa seemed lost in thought, her eyes drifting over the gathering as if pondering long-ago memories. Phasma shot Leia a quick, appraising glance before turning back to face the front. Rey exhaled silently in relief.

Up on his throne, Kylo Ren sat impassively, waiting for his announcer, Mitaka, to call the assembly to order.

So the proceedings began, and within the first hour, Rey listened intently to every word spoken by the politicians and generals. She began to grasp the immense weight of ruling a vast empire. She had often attended meetings back in Jakku, watching her father and his ministers discuss matters of governance. But Jakku was so small in comparison that, now, those sessions felt almost quaint. Compared to the Emperor of the First Order, her father had done very little.

What surprised her most was how deeply involved Kylo Ren appeared to be. He asked questions, made suggestions, and listened, really listened, to every issue brought before him. There were discussions on education reforms, new trade routes, tax complaints, and even proposals for improving access to drinking water in drought-stricken provinces.

One province had recently suffered heavy flooding, and it was decided that a charity event would be organized within the palace to raise funds for relief efforts. The responsibility for hosting it fell to Leia Organa.

Snoke descended from the platform in eerie silence and approached the curtained section where the imperial family sat. Without a word, he handed Leia a slip of parchment bearing the Emperor’s seal. Leia took it without even glancing at him.

As the gathering began to wind down and the final reports were heard, Kylo Ren lifted a hand. The room fell silent again as he rose from the throne, his long dark robes rustling faintly.

“Within the next few weeks, we will be receiving some important guests at our palace.”

Rey’s heart lurched.

“The King and Queen of Jakku will be esteemed guests here,” Kylo Ren continued, his voice carrying through the grand hall, “and they are to receive the finest treatment our palace can provide.”

A ripple of murmurs stirred the court like wind through dry grass. Nobles exchanged glances; some whispered behind their hands. Beside the Emperor, Snoke’s jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed as he caught General Hux’s stiff, disapproving expression from the front row. The two men locked eyes, wordless in their shared resentment.

Kylo Ren ignored them all.

“Princess Rey will oversee the preparations,” he said, turning his gaze deliberately toward the silken curtain that veiled the imperial women’s enclosure. “She is to be obeyed in all matters of hospitality.”

Rey felt the weight of every eye shift toward her. She sat frozen, pulse thudding in her ears. Jess leaned in slightly but said nothing.

None of them noticed the trooper slip quietly into the hall, weaving between the distracted noblemen before dropping to one knee at the foot of the throne. He leaned in to whisper, and the Emperor bent to listen.

When Kylo Ren straightened again, his expression had changed. The faint boredom in his eyes had been replaced by a storm.

“Bring him in,” he growled.

The trooper bolted from the room.

Moments later, he returned, this time flanked by guards with their weapons drawn, ushering a man roughly between them. The court fell silent. Even the whispers died.

Beside Rey, Jess gasped.

“Oh no…”

“Poe,” Rey whispered, horrified.

He was shoved forward with such force that he stumbled to his knees, landing hard at the Emperor’s feet.

The silence in the hall stretched into something unbearable.

The Emperor remained motionless, towering on his throne, dark eyes fixed on the man kneeling before him.

Poe, however, looked back, defiant, unblinking.

“So, who talks first?” he said suddenly, his voice loud in the stillness. “You talk first? I talk first?”

A few stunned gasps rippled through the crowd.

Rey, watching from behind the silken screen, almost smiled. Typical Poe. Even in chains, he was cocky. Brave. Stupid.

Kylo Ren rose slowly from his seat, his voice booming through the hall.

“What were you doing inside my harem?”

The gasp this time was unanimous.

Poe hesitated just long enough to make it obvious he was thinking fast. “I…lost my way,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“You lost your way,” Kylo Ren repeated flatly. He descended the platform, step by step. “You’re not from Naboo. You don’t know the laws. So I’ll repeat myself. What were you doing in my palace?”

Poe drew a careful breath, his posture straightening even on his knees. “I’m from Jakku. I’m not aware of your…architecture.”

The attempt at wit earned nothing but ice from the throne. Kylo’s gaze darkened further.

“Do you understand,” the Emperor said, his voice low and lethal now, “that by stepping into the harem, you’ve committed a crime punishable by death?”

“NO!”

The hall froze.

All eyes turned sharply to the women’s enclosure, just in time to see Rey part the curtain and step out into the open. Phasma shot up in alarm, but Leia caught her wrist and held her back.

Rey walked calmly past the stunned guards and into the center of the hall. The weight of every gaze pressed against her, but she kept her eyes on the Emperor.

She stopped beside Poe and raised her chin.

“Your Majesty,” she said clearly. “This man is Captain Poe Dameron, of the Royal Guard of Jakku. He is a loyal subject of my parents and he meant no harm in coming here.”

There was a stunned hush. Even Kylo Ren looked thrown off for a moment.

“Rey, what are you doing?!” Leia whispered, alarmed, half-rising from her seat.

But Rey didn’t falter. She stood straight, like the Princess of Jakku she was, placing herself squarely between Poe and the Emperor’s wrath.

“So what business does he have in the palace of Naboo?” the Emperor asked coldly.

“He’s here to see me,” Rey answered, steady but firm.

Kylo Ren arched a brow. “Then why did he feel the need to sneak around like a thief, instead of approaching you in the proper way?”

Poe spoke up, his voice calm but clear. “The King of Jakku asked me to check on the Princess. I was sent on his behalf.”

It was the truth, but Kylo Ren’s expression said he wasn’t inclined to accept it.

“Your Majesty…” Rey stepped forward slightly, her voice softening, her eyes fixed on him with urgency. “I beg you to pardon this man.”

For the briefest moment, Kylo Ren faltered.

There she stood in her imperial silks, the light catching the delicate goldwork on her sleeves. She looked different, no longer cold or combative, but luminous and vulnerable. Her eyes were wide and pleading, lips parted ever so slightly. There was no pride in her voice now. Only earnestness.

Kylo Ren couldn’t look away.

And neither could Snoke.

“That is impossible,” came Snoke’s voice, sharp and cold as glass.

He stepped forward with slow deliberation, the folds of his robe trailing behind him. His tone was civil, but his eyes were ablaze with fury barely concealed.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he said, turning to Rey with a mock bow, “but His Majesty does not grant pardons at the whims of his wives. We are not ruled by their tears or tempers.”

“Silence,” Kylo Ren snapped, his voice cracking like a whip.

Snoke stepped back, his jaw tight, the fury now visible on his face despite his deference.

The Emperor turned back to Rey.

“Princess,” he said, his voice low but carrying. “If I were to offer your Captain a full pardon… what would I receive in return?”

Rey blinked up at him.

“In… return?” she echoed.

Her eyes flicked down to Poe, still on his knees before the throne, and something clicked. She straightened.

“In exchange for a full pardon,” she said clearly, “I offer you the services of my Captain.”

A ripple moved through the court. Kylo Ren’s brow lifted in interest. Poe looked like he would have preferred the death sentence.

“Captain Poe Dameron will no longer serve the King of Jakku,” Rey continued. “From today onward, with Your Majesty’s approval, he will serve the Emperor of the First Order.”

Kylo Ren leaned back slightly, studying her.

“Very well,” he said after a moment. “Rise, Captain.”

Poe stood, stiffly. Rey couldn’t read the look on his face, half outrage, half resignation.

“You are no longer in the service of Jakku,” Kylo Ren said, his voice loud and final. “From this moment on, you serve me.”

Poe gave a tight nod, then bowed.

“I thank Your Majesty for your… mercy.”

As the guards stepped forward to escort him out, Rey’s eyes followed him. Their gazes met for just a second. Poe gave her a fleeting look, half exasperated, half fond, before disappearing from sight.

Rey turned her attention back to the Emperor.

“He’s an excellent soldier,” she said. “One of my father’s best.”

Kylo Ren tilted his head.

“I’ll take your word for it… Princess.”

She bowed, her movements precise, and stepped back behind the curtain. But even as the silk fell between them again, Rey could feel his gaze lingering on her.

And on the other side, Phasma noticed. Every flicker of attention, every shift in the Emperor’s tone. She saw it all.

“This isn’t the first time he’s let his personal interests get in the way,” General Hux muttered as he swirled his wine. He and Snoke sat in his chambers, the curtains drawn and the fire low. “It’ll pass soon enough.”

Snoke said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the flames, jaw clenched tight. He had been humiliated in front of the entire court—and all because of her.

The silk-draped doorway rustled.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“My lady,” Hux stood at once, bowing as Phasma swept in.

Snoke didn’t bother to rise.

Phasma and Snoke had rarely seen eye to eye, but tonight, the air between them crackled with shared resentment.

“I take it you’re here for the same reason,” Snoke said, not looking at her. “I thought you had him completely in your grasp. Seems I was mistaken.”

Phasma smirked as she helped herself to a seat. “Don’t be so sure, General. I haven’t lost everything.”

“What do you want?” Snoke asked.

“I want your support,” Phasma said, pouring herself a glass of wine from Hux’s bottle. “To take her out.”

Snoke snorted. “You concern yourself with petty squabbles in the harem. My dear lady, I’ll handle the Princess. You. Your job is to keep the Emperor… comfortable.”

Phasma’s smile didn’t fade, but her voice went cold. “Don’t underestimate me. I already found something. Something incriminating.”

That got Snoke’s attention. He leaned forward. “What did you find?”

Phasma wagged a finger. “Not so fast. I’m not sharing it. Not yet.”

Snoke clicked his tongue in irritation. “If it’s real, we go to the Emperor now and end this.”

“I thought the same,” Phasma said smoothly. “But then I had a better idea. Why not wait until her entire family is here? The perfect stage. The perfect audience. A little drama never hurt a good execution.”

“This is not theatre,” Snoke growled. “The longer we wait, the more chances she has to slip out of it.”

“Let me worry about that,” Phasma replied, sipping from Hux’s glass. “One way or another, the Princess will fall.”

Hux, who had remained silent until now, turned to Snoke.

“Well?” Phasma asked, tilting her head. “Are you in?”

Snoke exhaled slowly, the firelight catching the hard glint in his eye.

“Very well. We’ll help you.”

Chapter Text

The Outskirts of Naboo

Rey had sent Poe ahead to meet King Prana and Queen Adah of Jakku about three-quarters into their journey.

The reunion was far from warm.

King Prana, furious at having lost the best member of his guard to the Emperor, berated Poe openly for his recklessness. Poe took it all in without protest. He agreed with most of it anyway. He missed Jakku. He missed his men. Maybe it was arrogant to call himself the best among them, but it wasn’t untrue. The royal family had trusted him with almost sacred confidence. He had earned it. His skill, his loyalty, his family’s long line of sacrifice in the kingdom’s service. It all mattered.

Riding beside him was Finn, the quiet young soldier assigned to the royal escort. Poe didn’t know much about him, but he knew Finn had helped Rey during some ordeal in the palace. That was enough for him.

They didn’t speak on the ride back. Finn kept his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable.

But when they dismounted to rest by a grove of trees, Poe stretched his shoulders, walked over to Finn, and gave him a solid pat on the back.

“I never got to thank you,” he said.

Finn looked up, startled. “For what?”

“For helping our Princess.”

Finn blinked. The way Poe said our Princess, like it was a truth that bound them, made something shift in him.

“Oh, well…” he mumbled, glancing away, unsure how to respond.

Poe grinned and turned toward the horses.

“Don’t be so uptight, buddy. We’re on the same side.”

Finn watched him for a moment, unsure whether he found Poe annoying or admirable, or both.

They sat together on the grass, quiet except for the rustling of leaves and the crunch of boots as a passing soldier handed out a cloth bag of pomegranates and a pitcher of cool water from the stream.

Poe tossed a handful of seeds into his mouth, then flicked a few onto the grass.

“So,” he said, stretching out on one elbow, “tell me about you.”

Finn took a long gulp of water before replying. “I’m nothing special.”

Poe glanced at him sideways. The kid was guarded, tight-lipped and hard to read. But Poe had a nose for people.

“Somehow I don’t believe that,” he said lightly. “Everyone’s got something that makes them stand out.”

Finn gave him a sharp look. “What are you, the local philosopher?”

“Hah, no,” Poe answered dryly. “I was just trying to make conversation, man.”

It was the most flustered Poe had felt in weeks. He shifted awkwardly, rising to his feet and grabbing the water pitcher. “Alright, alright. I’ll go refill this, then leave you to your monk-like silence…”

But before he could move, Finn’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

Poe stumbled back, nearly tripping as Finn yanked him down onto the grass again.

“Woah!” he blurted.

Finn quickly raised a finger to his lips. “Shh! Keep your voice down.”

Poe blinked, eyes narrowing. “…Okay, what’s going on?”

Finn’s voice dropped. “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about something. For a long time.”

Poe sobered instantly, caught off guard by the sudden urgency in Finn’s expression.

“I’m listening,” he said.

Poe raised an eyebrow, leaning in, suddenly very serious.

“I’m listening.”

Finn inhaled sharply, steadying himself.

“I need to get out of here.”

“What?” Poe blinked. “Out of where?”

“I want to leave the First Order,” Finn repeated, firmer this time. “I want out.”

“Huh,” Poe gave a short, surprised laugh. “Don’t we all.”

But Finn turned to him fully, eyes intense.

“No, I’m serious. I want to get out and you’re going to help me.”

Poe’s smile faded. “I can’t help you,” he said after a pause. “I have a duty to my Princess. The only reason I’m still breathing is because of her. I stay here, for her.”

“I’m not asking you to come with me,” Finn insisted, voice taut with urgency. “I just need your help to get out. That’s all.”

He paused, then added in a lower voice, “This is the only life I’ve ever known. I was raised to do one thing. But I don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want to belong to them.”

Poe rubbed a hand across his jaw. “So why not just walk out?” he asked, gesturing vaguely toward the horizon.

“If I just leave, I’ll be hunted for the rest of my life,” Finn replied grimly. “That’s not freedom. That’s survival. I want a real life.”

Poe met his eyes and saw it. The fear. The courage beneath it. This wasn’t a soldier talking. This was a boy trying to reclaim something that had been taken from him. Poe had seen that look before. Refugees. Deserters. Orphans of war. People who just wanted to live, not fight.

Finn swallowed.

“Can you… get me into Jakku?”

Poe didn’t answer right away.

He looked up at the sky, then down at the ground between them.

Finally, he met Finn’s gaze again.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Yes, I can.”

Naboo

Honing her culinary skills had been part of Rey’s education, though it was never the part she enjoyed most. Still, it had earned its place among the accomplishments expected of a noblewoman, and now, more than ever, it was proving useful. She hadn’t set foot in a kitchen in quite some time, but she was doing this for her parents.

She wanted everyone to see that she was more than just a foreign bride that she was capable, cultured, and worthy. The women of the harem rarely passed up a chance to whisper about her: her clothes, her jewelry, her manners, even the way she walked. Rey heard it all. They spoke of Jakku as if it were a dustbowl of uncivilized peasants, and she’d had enough.

“You put too much salt in this,” Jess pointed out gently.

“I did?” Rey rushed across the kitchen to peer into the pot, her face creased with worry.

Jess offered a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t panic, we can fix it.”

Ever calm and capable, Jess got to work, sleeves rolled up. Her own parents were arriving too, and despite her usual composed demeanor, she was just as invested in making everything perfect.

She hadn’t been entirely sold on the idea at first, two noblewomen cooking a feast for visiting royalty, but Rey’s determination had worn her down. Now they worked side by side.

Some others, however, had taken more convincing. The palace cooks were none too pleased about having their kitchen “invaded” by a foreign Princess, but there was little they could do once royalty made up their mind.

“And what business do you have in the kitchen?” Kylo Ren had asked, when Rey first approached him with the idea. "You're a Princess."

“Which means I can do whatever I please,” Rey had retorted coolly. “And I want to be the one to prepare the welcome meal.”

He had smirked at that, clearly amused, probably hoping she would fail, give up halfway, or serve something inedible.

“Very well, wife. But don’t think you have anything to prove, to me or to anyone else here. Insecurity is not a desirable trait in the wife of an Emperor.”

Arrogant bastard, Rey thought.

No matter how much he tried to appear perceptive, he would never understand what it felt like to be her. He was the Emperor, his word law, his mistakes invisible, his power absolute.

And she?

She was the youngest daughter of a minor royal house, offered up like a token in a power game, handed to the very man who had seized her homeland by force. Now she was expected to live in harmony among women who barely tolerated her and nobles who dismissed her, all while upholding the image of a perfect imperial consort.

Jess’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“Everything’s almost done,” she said gently, placing a hand on Rey’s shoulder. “Shall I call for a cook?”

Rey nodded, overwhelmed, unable to find her voice.

Jess slipped out of the kitchen, and Rey was left alone. She wiped her eyes with a corner of her shimmering shawl, quickly and quietly, because there was no time for tears now.

The royal party from Jakku was welcomed with warmth and ceremony. The Emperor and his court put on a display of gracious hospitality, though Rey noted, with some relief, that neither Phasma nor Leia were present to greet the guests.

It was just as well. She had enough on her mind without having to stage-manage tense introductions.

Most of the nobles in attendance had already met her family during the wedding, and the atmosphere was surprisingly lighthearted. The members of the Jakku delegation looked around in open wonder at the palace grounds, struggling to mask their awe. Back home, their palace was all red brick and sun-bleached stone, simple and light. But Naboo’s marble and granite shimmered like something carved from the dreams of the gods, with their swirling colors and veined elegance.

Rey’s mother was the first to pull her into a tight embrace, holding her at arm’s length afterward to take a good look.

“Oh, look at you!” the Queen gasped, cupping her daughter’s face. “You’ve put on a bit of weight!”

Rey wriggled in her mother’s arms like a squirming child. It was true, she had been indulging more than usual. Naboo’s fruits were lush, the sweets irresistible, and no one seemed interested in stopping her. But she knew that gleam in her mother’s eye.

“Could it be… something else?” the Queen asked slyly, casting a knowing glance at Rey’s stomach.

It took Rey a second to catch on.

“No! Gods, no,” she groaned, rolling her eyes and pulling away. “Believe me, Mother, there is no question of that.”

The Queen only sighed, clearly unconvinced. “Well, Leela is due five moons from now. It would be so lovely to have two grandchildren born in the same year…”

Rey groaned again, this time more theatrically. “You’ve been here five minutes, and we’re already talking babies?”

“It’s a mother’s job,” the Queen said with a wink.

She waited for Rey to respond, but the younger woman remained silent.

Undeterred, Queen Adah pressed on, her voice light and cheerful as the delegation passed through the palace gates into the grand courtyard.

“You know, if you were to give the Emperor a son and heir, it would do wonders for our standing within the Empire!” she said brightly, clearly pleased by the thought.

Rey bristled inwardly, but forced a smile. She needed to steer the conversation elsewhere, quickly.

“I heard about Leela,” she said, grasping at the news she’d just been given about her sister in law. “Please give her my love when you return. And tell her I’ll visit as soon as the baby is born.”

Her mother accepted the change of topic with only the briefest pause, though the twinkle in her eye suggested she wasn’t fooled.

“Keep her in your prayers,” the Queen said warmly. “Pray every day for a future King of Jakku.”

Rey met her gaze, her voice calm and composed.

“I’ll pray for a happy, healthy baby.”

It was the only answer she could give.

“I wouldn’t have used raw ginger,” one of the royal cooks announced loudly as the imperial food taster sampled dish after dish from the Emperor’s silver tray. “It overpowers the natural flavor of the prawns.”

The taster set down his spoon and reached for a napkin.

“It’s actually quite good,” he said after a thoughtful pause, savoring the depth of the curry. “Well-balanced, with a pleasant kick.”

The cooks exchanged glances, their pride visibly bruised. The Princess of Jakku might not be here to steal their posts, but she’d certainly unsettled their sense of superiority. Still, they comforted themselves with the belief that this was a one-time event. Royalty did not belong in kitchens, no matter how competent they proved to be.

The head cook, struggling to maintain composure, turned to one of the kitchen maids.

“When the Princess returns, you’ll follow her lead through tonight’s service,” she instructed crisply.

Then, with a rustle of robes and muttered commentary, the cooking staff followed the royal taster out of the room.

Behind a curtained alcove, concealed in shadow, Khema waited.

Once the last footstep faded, she stepped forward into the empty kitchen, cradling a small wooden box in her hands. Her eyes flicked toward the pots still simmering gently over the hearth, and a slow smile curled on her lips.

“Alright,” she whispered, steadying her breath as she stepped in front of the Emperor’s gilded food tray.

Sabotaging the Emperor’s dinner was treason punishable by death. But Khema’s fear paled in comparison to her loyalty. She had pledged herself to Phasma and the vision they shared for the Empire. That made this necessary.

She hesitated only briefly before lifting the ornate lid from the largest bowl at the center of the tray. A cloud of steam escaped, fragrant with coconut and spice. The aroma of the dish made her pause, it smelled far too good to ruin.

Smiling faintly, she opened the little wooden box she carried and pinched out a small amount of the crimson powder nestled inside. She sprinkled it lightly over the food.

Maybe… just a bit more.

She added another pinch, then reached for a spoon and gently stirred the mixture. Her brow furrowed. The color had darkened slightly. Not enough to be obvious, but it warned her; any more, and the change might be noticed.

Reluctantly, she replaced the lid and moved to the smaller bowls surrounding it, the side dishes, sauces, garnishes. Perfect.

Bowl by bowl, she worked methodically, emptying the rest of the red powder with practiced care and giving each dish a subtle stir to conceal her work.

That should do it.

She replaced the last lid, straightened her shawl, and cast one final glance over the tray. Everything looked untouched.

Then she slipped out of the kitchen like a shadow.

“Your Majesty, I would really like to meet your mother,” Queen Adah said pleasantly as the court began settling for the evening welcome meal.

Kylo Ren’s expression didn’t change. “My mother won’t be joining us this evening, unfortunately,” he replied. “But you’ll certainly see her during your stay.”

“I’ve heard many great things about her…” the Queen began, before catching a sharp, warning glance from King Prana.

Kylo’s lips twitched. “I’m sure you have.”

At that moment, Rey entered the chamber once again, this time accompanied by kitchen maids carrying ornate trays. The room immediately filled with the warm, rich scent of coconut, spices, and roasted herbs. Conversation died down as the aroma reached every corner. Trays were laid in front of the guests with quiet efficiency, each dish vibrant in color and thoughtfully arranged.

Everyone turned instinctively toward the Emperor, as was tradition. No one took a bite until he did.

Rey took her place beside her parents, who smiled at her proudly. She offered a small, nervous smile in return.

Kylo Ren picked up his spoon and sampled each curry in turn with the rice. His face gave nothing away at first, but then his chewing slowed…and then stopped. His fingers tightened slightly around the spoon. A bead of sweat appeared at his temple, quickly joined by another. He swallowed with effort, forcing his expression to remain composed as dozens of eyes watched.

Rey frowned. Something wasn’t right. She braced herself, expecting a comment, maybe even a veiled insult. But instead, Kylo abruptly rose from his seat and strode past her without a word, exiting into the adjoining antechamber and slamming the door behind him.

A stunned silence followed. Rey glanced at her parents. Her mother’s brows were lifted, and her father looked vaguely concerned.

She stood, smoothing her dress, and followed Kylo into the chamber, shutting the door behind her.

The Emperor was bent over a pitcher, pouring water into a goblet with trembling hands. He drank, coughed, and drank again.

“Your Majesty, are you alright?” Rey asked, struggling to keep the concern from her voice. “What happened?”

He spun around and stormed toward her, eyes blazing.

“What happened?!” he repeated, voice hoarse but rising.

Rey instinctively stepped back as he loomed over her, chest heaving, sweat glistening on his brow. He looked wild, furious, eyes bloodshot and filled with tears, his trembling lips, swollen and red.

“What in the seven hells did you put in that food? Gunpowder?!”

Rey’s fear dissolved in an instant, replaced by indignation.

“No! I…what? Of course not!”

He wiped at his face with a sleeve. “You served that to the guests?!”

“Oh, for goodness sake, it’s just a bit of spice,” Rey said, exasperated. She grabbed the corner of her shawl and tried to dab at the corner of his trembling mouth.

“A bit?!” he swatted her hand away. “I feel like I’ve swallowed lava! Look at my face!”

“Keep your voice down!” she begged, glancing anxiously at the door. “If they should hear…”

Kylo took another shaky breath, clenching the edge of a side table to steady himself and returning to the water pitcher, drinking like a man emerging from the desert.

“I tasted everything,” she said defensively. “It wasn’t that spicy when we cooked it. Maybe…maybe something happened…”

Rey felt her stomach sinking. So much for planning a special family meal. But this wasn’t just about a ruined dinner anymore. If the Emperor thought this was an act of sabotage, the consequences could be deadly.

Kylo inhaled sharply through his teeth, trying to breathe past the inferno in his mouth.

She swallowed. “We need to find out what happened.”

His voice dropped to a growl. “We will. But first, you’ll go out there and act like everything is fine.”

“And you?”

“I’ll manage. Just… give me a minute.”

Rey gave a short nod and turned to leave.

“Next time, wife, stick to fruit platters.” He called out

She paused, turned her head slightly, and gave him a look.

“Try not to choke on your tears.” She muttered under her breath

He glared back at her, jaw tight. “You’re lucky I’m not throwing you in the dungeon.”

For a long moment, neither of them said anything.

Then, Rey slipped out of the room, hesitating before slowly opening the heavy door. A wave of warm music, clinking goblets, and cheerful chatter washed over her. Laughter echoed around the hall, voices rising in celebration.

“Princess!” one of the ministers called out when he saw her, raising a goblet in salute. “Well done on a fabulous meal!”

A ripple of laughter followed his toast, only to fizzle out the moment Kylo Ren stepped into the room behind her, his expression thunderous.

At the far end of the table, Poe Dameron stiffened in his chair behind King Prana. He watched the Emperor closely, the dangerous look in Kylo’s eyes setting every one of Poe’s instincts on edge. Rey, too, seemed tense. Something had definitely happened. Poe’s hand slid subtly to the hilt of the knife tucked in his belt. Just in case.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, Rey picked up her tray and walked directly over to the head of the table.

“To celebrate the union between our families,” she said, loud enough for all to hear, “I would like to share my meal with the Emperor.”

A few curious murmurs rose around the room.

Kylo, if he was surprised, didn’t show it. Without a word, he nudged his own tray aside and gestured for her to sit beside him.

The court watched in rapt silence as the Emperor and his consort began to eat together. Rey caught his eye across the steam of white rice, the soft crackle of flatbread and fragrant curries. His were still slightly red and glassy from earlier, but calmer now.

“This is good,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.

Relief swept over Rey like a breath she’d been holding too long. “Thank you.”

Kylo scooped up another mouthful of rice before speaking again, casually, as if discussing the weather.

“Maybe I should have my taster beheaded.”

Rey narrowed her eyes at him. “Maybe I should have the cook executed.”

Kylo gave her a dry look. “Now that would be a shame.”

Their eyes held; sharp, wary, amused.

“I think someone may have tampered with the food after it was tasted.” Rey suggested.

“Or,” Kylo leaned in, his voice low and mocking, “you did it to get back at me.”

Rey scoffed. “I wish.”

“If you did,” he said, tilting his head with a smirk, “then this is very petty of you. Childish, even. I expected better.”

“Better?” she echoed.

“Oh yes,” he said, eyes glinting with amusement. “If you were trying to punish me, I would’ve hoped for something more…entertaining. A political coup, or an assaination by sword. This plan to make me cry into my food in front of my ministers and generals seems a little beneath you”

His smirk widened. His soft brown eyes still glistened slightly from the spice, but the anger was gone, replaced by something almost boyish. Five minutes ago, he’d looked ready to declare war. Now, it was all a game again.

Rey matched his smirk with a syrupy-sweet smile. “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”

Their eyes held, tension shimmering just below the surface. The court was watching them still, but she no longer felt cornered. Part of her even appreciated that he hadn’t erupted into one of his dramatic tirades.

“Anyway, if someone wanted to kill you, they wouldn’t have used chili powder. Trust me.” Rey went on, swirling a piece of bread through a thick, fragrant curry.

“In any case,” he said smoothly, reaching for his goblet, “I’ll be looking into this.”

Rey nodded, her expression unreadable as she picked up her own golden goblet. “As you should.”

By the end of the meal, even Poe, who hadn’t stopped watching them like a hawk, allowed himself to relax. The Emperor had resumed polite conversation with King Prana, and Rey’s laughter, light and genuine, rang out more than once.

Chapter Text

Naboo

That night, after the sounds of the welcome feast had faded and the palace had sunk into silence, Rey slipped away from the comfort of her chambers and ventured into more uncertain territory.

The gentle cooing of doves and the cheerful chirping of lovebirds drifted across the courtyard, carried by a soft breeze. Their golden cages swayed on the branches of old trees, the only signs of life in the sleeping garden.

Rey paused outside Kylo Ren’s rooms, her hand hovering near the heavy wooden door. She hesitated, unsure if he would still be awake.

Once.

Twice.

Three times she knocked.

No response.

Was he asleep?

She pushed gently. To her surprise, the door creaked open.

The room was dimly lit by the flickering orange glow of the fireplace. Shadows danced along the walls, cast by the flames. The scent of burning sandalwood filled the air, someone had sprinkled powdered wood over the fire.

“Your Majesty?” she called softly.

The chambers, rich and spacious like her own, stretched quietly before her. The ceilings arched high, and every surface was carved with fine detail. Several adjoining rooms branched off the main hall, and as Rey moved past them, peering inside, she heard a rustle from the furthest one.

She followed the sound.

Kylo Ren sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, bare from the waist up, eyes closed and hands resting loosely on his knees. His chest, broad, smooth, and sheened with sweat, rose and fell with the measured rhythm of controlled breathing. The light from the main chamber flickered across the floor, catching the gleam of his sword, which lay in front of him like a silent sentinel.

Rey stood frozen in the doorway.

He had clearly been training. The air was thick with the scent of fire and metal, of sandalwood and something else, something distinctly him. She’d never seen a man like this before. Not bare. Not unguarded. Not so real.

For a moment, she could only stare. Something deep inside her stirred, something startled and new. She was a Princess of Jakku, raised on formality and restraint, but there was no restraint in the man before her. Her gaze wandered despite herself, from the fullness of his mouth, across the sculpted lines of his torso, lower still…

“Enjoying the view, Princess?”

Her breath caught. His voice cut through the stillness like a drawn blade.

Kylo Ren’s eyes were open now, trained on her with quiet amusement.

Rey spun around so fast her shawl nearly slipped from her shoulders.

“I…sorry…I just…maybe this isn’t the right time,” she stammered.

He rose fluidly to his feet in a single, effortless motion.

“I agree,” he said, brushing a hand through his damp hair. “This is usually when I train. Meditate. Sweat in peace.”

Then he stepped toward her, the shadow of a smirk tugging at his mouth.

“But since you’ve already come all this way…”

He stopped just short of her. Close enough to feel.

“You’re welcome to stay,” he murmured. “And look all you like.”

Rey shivered. He was so close, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his skin, the scent of sweat still clinging to him from his exertions. As much as she told herself she disliked him, there was something primal about this moment, something she knew she shouldn’t want, but did. And for a breathless second, she let herself feel it.

Then she turned.

She hadn’t realized just how near he stood until she faced him, until she found herself looking up at him, his body looming above hers, cutting her off from the rest of the world. The firelight licked across his bare skin, illuminating it like molten gold. He looked like he had been sculpted by some ancient artist, a golden statue of a god.

No.

A god? She nearly scoffed at herself. This man was her enemy. The usurper of her kingdom. A tyrant.

But he was also her husband.

And he was, unfortunately, beautiful.

“Do you… have a cowl or something you could put on?” she asked, her voice measured, her tone as polite as she could make it.

To her surprise, Kylo didn’t protest. Without a word, he moved past her into the main chamber and took a black silk robe from the back of a chair. He pulled it on just as the fire in the hearth began to die down. The golden glow that had cast him in divine light faded with it, and in its place stood the man she was used to, cloaked in shadow, inscrutable as ever.

“About tonight…” Rey began, her voice steadier now that the spell had lifted, “I don’t know what happened. But I can say with certainty that it wasn’t me or anyone from my family.”

“You don’t have to convince me, Princess,” Kylo said, cutting her off gently.

He studied her for a moment. His voice, when he spoke again, was softer. “I hope the rest of your parents’ stay goes without incident. I’ll make sure of it.”

He poured wine into two goblets and gestured for her to join him at the small work table.

Rey took her seat, barely waiting before blurting, “I thought you should know, I believe this was a deliberate attempt to undermine you. Whoever did it was counting on your temper getting the better of you.”

Kylo raised an eyebrow. “My temper?”

Rey flushed and looked down at the goblet in her hands. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’ve never lost my temper more than necessary,” Kylo said stiffly, taking a long sip of wine. “When you lead an empire, an empire as vast as mine, every decision, every misstep carries weight. It’s not anger, it’s urgency. And sometimes, urgency is loud.”

Rey set down her goblet. “But a good leader is someone who can stay composed, even when the stakes are high. Especially then.”

He leaned back, watching her. “And if you never show what moves you? If you never burn for something? How do you fight for it? How do you make others care?”

“I understand passion,” Rey said, her voice rising. “But not when it’s driven by revenge or greed, or fear. The kind of passion that destroys rather than protects isn’t leadership. It’s tyranny.”

Their eyes locked, fire flickering between them, not just from the hearth, but something deeper. Neither backed down.

As Rey spoke, a sudden memory seized her, the promise she had made at the foot of her Goddess’s shrine. The blood oath. She had vowed to bring Kylo Ren’s head as an offering, a sacrifice for what he had done to their sacred temple. A shiver of cold shame passed through her as the memory settled like a weight on her chest. Had she truly meant it? That brutal, calculated vengeance?

She shook it off.

“That’s exactly what I want to do,” Kylo said, breaking into her thoughts. “Preserve life. Unite the kingdoms under one peaceful Empire.”

Rey stared at him, eyes sharp. “What you want,” she said, lifting her goblet, regaining her poise, “is to impose your will on kingdoms that never asked for you. What you want is power, not peace.”

Perhaps it was the guilt from her earlier thoughts, or the wine, or the heavy scent of sandalwood that lingered in the warm air, but she felt bolder than usual. Then again, Rey had never been one to shy away from a fight when she believed she was right. She had only come tonight to clear the air about what had happened at the feast. Yet here they were.

Kylo’s gaze darkened, and he leaned forward, his voice low and even.

“Tell me, Princess… Do you have any idea what it’s like to live through war? To lose everyone you love? To scavenge for food while your home burns around you? To hide like an animal while armies trample your country into dust?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer. “My people lived it. I lived it. I’m not trying to destroy peace, I’m trying to end this endless cycle of violence.”

“By creating more of it?” Rey shot back.

“I’m trying to finish what my grandfather started,” he said quietly. “This world, this fractured country, was never meant to be ruled by ten thousand little kings. My parents, my uncle… they were too soft. Too afraid to do what needed to be done. But I’m not. I will not leave another generation to inherit a legacy of war.”

He reached for the wine, tilting the bottle in her direction. She raised her hand in polite refusal.

Their eyes lingered on each other, his searching, hers unreadable.

“Just think, Princess,” Kylo said, his voice low, deliberate. “If your father or any of his allies were offered the chance to rule an empire, do you really believe they’d turn it down?”

“My father would never…”

“Wouldn’t he?” Kylo interrupted smoothly. “How do you think kingdoms were born, Rey? Not through peace treaties or poetry. They were carved from blood, built on conquest, betrayal, and a hunger for power. Your own lands have been at war for centuries, haven’t they? Cousins fighting cousins. Bloodlines tangled through marriage, only to splinter again over borders.”

Rey didn’t respond. She watched him carefully, her silence sharper than any retort.

“And none of them,” Kylo went on, “would give up power. Not even for the so-called greater good.”

“And you?” Rey asked, her voice cutting through the quiet. “You believe you are the greater good?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “I do.”

Rey smiled at him, not with amusement, but pity. A smile that said how lonely you must be, to believe that.

“Then share your power,” she said. “No one rules alone, not for long. Not without losing themselves.”

“I don’t trust anyone,” he replied flatly.

Rey’s expression hardened.

“And that,” she said, standing slowly, her goblet empty, “tells me everything I need to know about the Empire you’ve built.”

She set the goblet down with a soft but final thud, its echo lingering like an accusation in the flickering firelight.

Kylo Ren rose from his seat, the movement slow and deliberate. It signaled to Rey that their conversation, like so many others between them, had reached a dead end.

“It’s getting late, Princess,” he said curtly. “We both have full schedules tomorrow. I suggest you get some rest.”

When Rey didn’t immediately move, he added, with a flicker of amusement in his voice,

“Unless you plan on spending the night with me.”

She stood then, brushing past the jab with the practiced grace of someone used to his provocations.

“I don’t intend to,” she said coolly. “Good night, Your Majesty.”

“Good night, Princess,” Kylo replied, his tone unreadable as she made her way toward the door.

But just as her fingers reached for the great brass handle, the door swung inward with force, nearly striking her in the face. She recoiled, startled, only to find herself face-to-face with General Snoke.

“Your Majesty…” Snoke began, clearly surprised, his eyes darting from Rey to Kylo. “Forgive me… I wasn’t expecting…If this isn’t a good time, I can return tomorrow.”

Rey stepped aside with quiet composure, her voice level.

“It’s quite alright, General. I was just leaving.”

And without another word, she slipped past him and disappeared down the corridor, leaving the two men alone in the fading firelight.

Snoke watched Rey disappear into the corridor, and for a moment, a flicker of relief crossed his face.

He had no intention of asking the Emperor what the Princess was doing in his chambers at such an hour—though, thanks to his informants, he was already well aware of the curious incident that had taken place during dinner.

But there were more pressing matters at hand.

He had only just returned after nearly two weeks away, overseeing the campaign in Dantooine, a critical step in their broader strategy to secure control over Coruscant.

“The King of Dantooine has agreed to the terms set forth in your letter,” Snoke began, his voice clipped and businesslike.

“So, he had no appetite for war,” Kylo muttered. “That’s fortunate. It should be a straightforward acquisition.”

“They’re eager to finalize trade agreements with our other provinces,” Snoke added. “And as you know, Dantooine holds the finest timber in the land.”

“I’m aware,” Kylo murmured, his voice distant, his mind still lingering on his conversation with Rey.

Snoke narrowed his eyes. He recognized the signs, Kylo was distracted.

“There’s something else,” Kylo added. “The King of Dantooine should be rewarded for his cooperation.”

“Very well,” Snoke replied cautiously.

“He has a daughter, doesn’t he?”

Snoke’s posture stiffened. He didn’t like where this was going.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to marry her as well,” he sighed, barely masking his irritation.

Kylo waved the thought away. “No, not for me. But I have an idea. And with the King and Queen of Jakku here, the timing is ideal.”

Snoke tilted his head. “Would you care to explain exactly what it is you’re planning?”

Kylo told him.

Snoke said nothing at first. He masked his reaction well, but the fury simmering beneath the surface was unmistakable. He didn’t know what had passed between Kylo and Rey during his absence, but something had shifted. Was she now whispering strategies into the Emperor’s ear? Was this idea truly Kylo’s… or was she the one pulling the strings?

Whatever it was, Snoke didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

“I want you to present my offer to the King of Dantooine,” Kylo instructed, not looking up. “I’ll speak to the King and Queen of Jakku myself.”

“Very well,” Snoke said smoothly. He waited a beat, then decided it was the right moment to pivot. “I heard about what happened at dinner. Are you alright?”

Kylo looked up from the parchment in his hands. “What do you mean?”

Snoke lifted his brows. “The little mishap with the food? Word travels fast, Your Majesty. You do realize that such an act, in any other court, would be considered treason.”

Of course Snoke knew. He always knew. He had eyes and ears in every corridor, every chamber, even here.

“Imagine that,” Snoke went on, a slight sneer curling at his lips. “A Princess, stooping to culinary revenge.”

Kylo’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “The Princess and I have spoken. As far as I’m concerned, she bears no guilt.”

“Ah,” Snoke said, his voice cool. “I see.”

But Kylo didn’t stop watching him. And somewhere, in the back of his mind, Rey’s voice echoed: You don’t trust anyone.

“Is there anything,” Kylo asked, “you’d like to tell me that might be… useful?”

Snoke smiled. “Only what you already know.”

With that, he bowed slightly and turned on his heel. As he pulled the heavy door shut behind him, his face twisted into a scowl.

“Phasma and her damned games,” he muttered under his breath, disappearing into the shadows.

The torches along the stone walls had been extinguished more than an hour ago, leaving the garden behind the harem steeped in shadow. Beneath the grand staircase that curved up into the moonless night, two men crouched low in the alcove, cloaked in silence. The wind whispered through the trees above, drowning their hushed conversation.

Footsteps echoed.

A palace guard appeared at the far end of the path. The men stilled, barely breathing as the figure passed by and disappeared around a corner.

Moments later, another figure emerged at the top of the staircase.

Smaller, hooded, cloaked in a long robe that dragged along the ground, the figure descended cautiously, pausing every few steps to glance over their shoulder. The robes tangled around their feet, causing a slight stumble. At the base of the stairs, the figure turned one last time to scan the shadows.

Then two shapes lunged from the darkness.

Rough hands grabbed the figure and shoved them up against the cold stone wall. A sharp scream split the air, then was cut off just as quickly as Poe clamped a hand over the woman’s mouth.

Khema’s eyes, wide with terror, darted between her attackers. She struggled, but Poe’s grip was firm.

“We know it was you,” Finn hissed. “What did you put in the food?”

Khema tried to shake her head, but Poe’s grip was too firm, she could barely move, let alone speak.

“If you make a sound,” Poe growled, his voice low and dangerous, “I’ll run you through with my sword.”

Khema whimpered.

He slowly pulled his hand from her mouth. She didn’t scream. She didn’t even breathe.

“Alright. Start talking,” he ordered.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Khema stammered, her voice a trembling whisper.

“Oh, you know exactly what we mean,” Finn snapped, stepping forward. “One of the kitchen maids saw you sneak into the kitchens. Just before the taster went in.”

Khema’s stomach dropped.

Of course. Those kitchen girls. So silent. So invisible. She hadn’t even noticed one of them watching. How could she have been so careless?

Still, she lifted her chin, just slightly.

“It’s my word against hers,” she said quietly, trying to sound steady. “I’m Phasma’s most trusted hand. No one will believe a kitchen maid over me.”

“Me? In the kitchen?” Khema laughed nervously, her voice thin and cracking. “What business would I have in the kitchen?”

“Important business, apparently,” Poe said coolly, mocking her. Then he turned to Finn. “Come on. Let’s search her.”

“No!” Khema cried out, but Poe was faster. His hand clamped over her mouth again as her eyes went wide with terror.

While Poe held her steady, Finn dug quickly through the folds of her robe, then reached beneath the outer layer of her skirt. His hand emerged holding a small, gleaming metal box. Both men froze, their eyes locked on it.

Khema didn’t move. She had forgotten. She had forgotten to get rid of it.

Finn opened the lid with care and took a cautious sniff. He recoiled immediately, coughing into his sleeve and grimacing before passing it to Poe.

Poe brought it close, frowning. His fingers brushed the fine, sinister powder inside.

“Well,” he said, voice dropping, “I’m sure the Emperor will be very interested to find out what, exactly, was in his food.”

He snapped the box shut with a loud click and held it up to Khema’s eyes.

“We’ve got everything we need. Tomorrow morning, you’re going to explain yourself to the Empress, and you’re going to apologize to her.”

Then, with sharp precision, Poe spun her around and pinned her wrists behind her back.

As he and Finn marched her up the stairs, Khema’s mind spun frantically, searching for a way out. Her stomach twisted at the thought of facing the Emperor. She had seen what happened to people who crossed him, seen it up close.

No. No, she couldn’t face him. She wouldn’t survive it.

But surely… surely Phasma would help her.

Wouldn’t she?

Chapter Text

Naboo

Rey dreamt of the Emperor that night.

She dreamt she returned to his chambers. This time, he was in bed, lying in shadow, one hand outstretched to her in invitation. In her dream, she undressed without hesitation and slipped beneath the sheets beside him. They lay naked, facing each other, skin brushing against skin. She let her hand trail slowly down his chest, firm and warm beneath her fingers, and lower still until she found the heat between his legs. His breath caught, a moan escaping his parted lips as she grasped him and gave a gentle squeeze.

“Rey,” he gasped, eyes burning with a quiet fire.

Her other hand came up to his lips, her index finger resting lightly there, bidding him to stay silent. She leaned in for a kiss…

“Rey!”

“Shhh…” Rey mumbled in her sleep, trying to stay in the dream.

“REY!”

She bolted upright, the dream vanishing like smoke in the light.

The glow of morning filtered through gossamer curtains. Her heart thudded in her chest. Kylo Ren was gone. In his place stood Jess, holding a tray with a steaming cup of tea.

“You’re up late today,” Jess said mildly, setting the tray down.

Rey blinked, still dazed. She glanced down at her hands, flushed scarlet, and quickly looked away as the memory of her dream came rushing back—her hand on him, his mouth on hers, the moan of her name.

She wanted to melt into the floor.

Traitorous dreams.

Treacherous hands.

Rey was moody all morning as Jess and a few maids helped her wash and dress. Her outfit for the day was one of her more elaborate ones, with layers of delicate fabric and heavy jewelry that clinked softly as she moved. Jess prattled on, filling her in on the latest harem gossip, while Rey sipped her tea and picked halfheartedly at her breakfast.

But her mind was elsewhere.

“I suppose you didn’t get much sleep last night,” Jess finally said, studying the tired shadows under Rey’s eyes.

“Not as much as I wanted,” Rey groaned, slumping in her chair.

Jess narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Where did you go last night?”

Rey looked up. They had known each other their whole lives. Until now, there had been no secrets between them.

“I didn’t want to wake you…” Rey began, but Jess cut her off.

“Come on, Rey. You won’t even change a piece of jewelry without telling me.”

Rey hesitated, then sighed.

“I went to see the Emperor.”

Jess blinked. “What for? Was it about dinner?”

Rey laughed, and for the first time that morning, her face lit up.

“You should have seen his face yesterday, Jess. It was so red, he looked like a giant baby!”

The two women burst into laughter, and for a moment, the tension in the air lifted.

After breakfast, Rey and Jess decided to join her parents and the Dowager Queen Leia for a walk in the palace gardens.

Leia was gracious with her parents, charming, poised, and as they toured the grounds with a few of the royal gardeners, conversation flowed easily. They made their way down to the great fountain, where one of the gardeners explained its history and mechanics in detail. Rey’s parents listened in awe; there was nothing like it in Jakku.

Eventually, the group reached the edge of the great forest. While her parents became preoccupied with the towering willow trees and their long, dancing tendrils, Rey quietly excused herself and turned back toward the palace.

As she walked up the garden path, one of the palace guards approached and bowed deeply.

“Princess, the Emperor commands you to his audience room at once.”

Rey frowned. “Why?”

“I can only say that it is an urgent matter, Your Highness,” the man said, bowing again before turning away.

She sighed. The last thing she wanted right now was to see the Emperor again, especially after last night, and that mortifying dream this morning, but she turned and followed the path toward the palace, regardless.

Rey didn’t know what she expected to find when she entered the Emperor’s chambers, but it certainly wasn’t the scene that awaited her.

Kylo Ren was seated behind a massive wooden desk, his pale hands clasped together in front of him. Standing in the center of the room were Poe, Finn, and a woman Rey immediately recognized as one of Phasma’s servants.

Without a word, Kylo signaled for Rey to come stand beside him. She obeyed, quietly taking her place at his side. Together, they now faced the trio before them and Rey’s eyes fell on the woman’s bound hands, tied tightly in front of her with a length of rope.

“Princess,” the Emperor said, his voice calm but commanding, “Poe and Finn claim that this woman attempted to sabotage the royal feast.”

Rey studied her carefully. Khema’s eyes didn’t meet hers. She stood like a statue, eyes lowered, her body stiff with fear.

“Your Highness,” Poe began, stepping forward, “a kitchen maid reported seeing this woman near the kitchens during preparations for the feast. Then last night, she was caught sneaking around the gardens.”

He reached into his coat and produced a small, gleaming box.

“We found this in her possession.”

He held it out, and Rey stepped forward to take it.

It was a small, plain metallic box, cool to the touch as Rey turned it over in her hands. She unclasped the lid and peered inside. There wasn’t much left, just faint traces of a bright red powder clinging to the corners. A sharp, almost sweet aroma rose from it, catching in the back of her throat.

She recognized the smell instantly.

“Scorpion powder,” she breathed.

Kylo Ren straightened behind his desk. “What is it? Is it poison?”

“No,” Rey said quickly, snapping the box shut and handing it back to Poe. “It’s a form of extremely potent chili powder. Rare. Expensive. And barely used in cooking because of how overpowering it is.”

She hesitated. “I was taught about it by the royal healer back in Jakku. It’s mostly used in medicines and a few ritual potions. But definitely not something a palace maid could get hold of on her own.”

She didn’t say the name, but the implication hung heavy in the air.

This had Phasma written all over it.

Kylo exhaled sharply. “Then it must have been her,” he muttered, eyes on Khema. “She’s the one who tampered with my dinner.”

Rey caught the faintest twitch in the woman’s jaw, but Khema kept her eyes low and her expression unreadable.

Kylo rose slowly, placing both hands on the desk and leaning forward, his voice now cold and deliberate.

“Do you understand what you’ve done?” he asked. “You’ve committed treason against your Emperor.”

Khema said nothing.

“And do you know what the punishment is for treason?” Kylo asked.

Khema finally looked up.

“It is death,” he said coldly.

Tears welled in the woman’s eyes, but still she remained silent.

The Emperor leaned back in his chair, considering her with an unreadable expression.

“As much as I would like to carry out the sentence myself,” he said slowly, “in this case, I believe the true victim is my wife.”

Rey turned to look at him, startled. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the room was silent.

“And so,” Kylo continued, “I will leave her fate in the hands of the Empress. Whatever punishment you choose… will be carried out.”

Rey opened her mouth, instinctively ready to protest, but caught herself. This was a significant gesture, one of public trust and power. She was unsure whether it was strategy or sincerity, but either way, the entire room was watching.

“She…” Rey began, carefully. “She will be punished. But the punishment I give her… will not be death.”

A pause.

“Very well,” Kylo Ren replied, nodding once.

“She must spend two days of every week, for the rest of her life, working in the hospital for the poor,” Rey said firmly.

Khema looked up, startled.

Kylo Ren raised an eyebrow, more amused than disapproving. He turned to Finn and Poe with a wave of his hand.

“Well then, it’s decided,” he declared. “Captain Poe, draft an official document outlining the crime and punishment. I’ll sign it. And Finn, escort her back to the harem.”

He turned back to Khema, voice dropping.

“But you… If you’re ever caught in wrongdoing again, the punishment will be death.”

Khema swallowed hard. Poe gave a sharp nod and turned to go, Finn following with the maid.

When the three had exited and the heavy doors shut behind them, Kylo stood from his chair and approached Rey, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You think I was too lenient?” she asked, watching him closely.

“Perhaps,” Kylo shrugged, “but I know you to be a forgiving person.”

“Maybe.”

“Toward everyone but me,” he added softly.

There was a strange intensity in his eyes as he said it, something unreadable, like heat hidden under ice. Rey felt her pulse quicken. She looked away, cheeks flushing, the memory of her dream from the night before creeping back in vivid fragments.

There was a long silence before Kylo Ren spoke again.

“There’s something I need to discuss with you, Princess,” he said, more gently than she expected.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Her voice came out softer than intended, barely above a breath.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night,” he continued, his brow drawn.

She tilted her head slightly. “Yes?”

“You know, I’m not the man you think I am.”

Rey blinked, uncertain. “…And?”

“I want to show you.”

“How?”

Kylo turned away from her, walking slowly to the great arched window that overlooked the palace gardens. For a long moment, he didn’t speak.

“I realize now I haven’t always been a fair ruler,” he said at last. “And I haven’t been fair to you.”

Rey said nothing. Her silence gave him permission to go on.

“I’ve decided… if you wish to annul our marriage, I’ll help you do it.”

Rey’s lips parted, stunned. She stared at his back, trying to make sense of what she’d just heard.

“I hold no bitterness toward you,” he added, still facing the light. “We can part peacefully.”

He turned to her then and she was still standing exactly where he’d left her, disbelief etched across her face.

“I don’t understand…” she managed.

“What I’m trying to say is, I no longer wish to keep you here against your will.”

Rey took a cautious step forward. “You mean… you’ll let me go home?”

He nodded.

“I’ll inform your parents at the feast tonight. There’s time to finalize everything before they leave Naboo. If you want to return with them, you can.”

Rey’s face softened, the disbelief shifting to something like wonder. A smile bloomed, small, uncertain, but real.

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered. “I’m… so grateful.”

She held out her hand to shake his, and when his larger hand closed around hers, her eyes welled up. A single tear slipped down her cheek as heat rose to her face.

He held her hand for a moment longer than necessary, unable to look away from her expression, so open, so vulnerable.

When they finally let go, Rey gave him a bow, deeper than she had ever offered before and quietly left the room.

Kylo Ren stood watching the door long after it had closed, a strange ache twisting in his chest. Something unspoken had left with her.

Rey was radiant that night.

She moved through the feast like a golden flame, bright and cheerful, laughing easily with her father’s courtiers and the Emperor’s ministers. Her parents watched her with quiet pride, relieved to see that their daughter appeared to be flourishing in court. The Emperor, it seemed, was taken with her. What more could they ask?

Across the hall, Kylo Ren sat unusually still. Though he offered polite smiles and raised his goblet when spoken to, his mood was subdued, his eyes too often drifting toward the Princess. To him, Rey’s smile lit the entire hall like a hundred lanterns. Yet every time their gazes met across the table, a quiet ache stirred in his chest, an ache he couldn’t name.

Phasma noticed. She saw the softness in his eyes, the subtle shift in his demeanor. And she saw Rey, how she held herself, how the court leaned toward her like flowers to the sun. It made her blood boil.

She had barely recovered from the disgrace Khema had dragged into her chambers that afternoon, trembling with fear and failure. Her schemes were crumbling and now, the girl who should have been the object of Kylo Ren’s scorn had become his fascination. But no matter. She still had one final move left. One that would rid her of the Princess of Jakku forever.

As the food platters were cleared and the music began to float softly through the high-vaulted chamber, the court relaxed into merriment. Laughter echoed beneath the chandeliers. Goblets refilled. The night deepened.

But Rey was elsewhere.

Her heart beat with anticipation. Soon, very soon, she would be free. In a few days, she would return to Jakku, not as a political prisoner or a bargaining chip, but as herself. A free woman. A daughter of Jakku. The thought lifted her spirits like wind to wings.

Yet as she turned her head and caught Leia’s profile in the candlelight, a sudden heaviness returned. The Dowager Queen had been nothing but kind to her, a figure of steady warmth in a foreign land. Rey had come to love her and the thought of leaving her behind twisted painfully in her chest.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

No matter.

She could visit Leia. She could write to her. This wasn’t goodbye, not really.

As the final notes of the musicians’ tune faded and polite applause rippled through the hall, the Emperor stood.

The room fell silent in an instant.

It was unusual for him to speak this late into the evening, and all eyes turned expectantly toward him. When Rey rose from her seat and quietly made her way to stand at Kylo Ren’s right side, a stir of curiosity swept through the room, soft murmurs rising like wind rustling through leaves.

Something was about to happen.

At the far end of the hall, Rey’s parents exchanged glances, their expressions taut with uncertainty.

Kylo Ren raised his hand slightly, commanding full attention.

“Princess Rey and I have come to a decision,” he said, his voice calm and measured. “And we would like to formally announce it this evening.”

The hall held its breath.

“I would like to announce,” Kylo continued, his gaze sweeping the gathered nobles and ministers, “that the Princess and I have decided… to separate.”

Gasps rippled through the court. The silence shattered into a thousand murmurs. Rey’s smile faltered as the room erupted, not in applause this time, but in disbelief, speculation, and a low hum of scandal. She saw her mother’s hand fly to her chest. Her father’s brows drew sharply together in a mix of confusion and disapproval.

“Mother, father…” she began, stepping forward slightly, trying to soften the blow. “I can come home.”

But the words felt small now. The quiet joy she had felt only minutes ago began to unravel, thread by thread, under the weight of the room’s gaze.

The Emperor, meanwhile, stood tall and unshaken beside her. Whatever he was feeling, he didn’t show it.

Not yet

But they ignored her.

King Prana stepped forward, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

“Your Majesty,” he called out, loud enough for all to hear, “why was I not consulted in this matter?”

Kylo Ren’s brow furrowed. “With all due respect, Your Highness, I believed this was a private matter, between husband and wife.”

“No,” King Prana snapped. “This is a political matter between kingdoms. And it absolutely required consultation.”

The entire court was silent now.

He advanced a step, facing the Emperor directly.

“When I gave you my daughter’s hand, it was in exchange for the safety and protection of my people.”

“You still have it,” Kylo replied, his voice calm. “The Princess’s return does not change that.”

Queen Adah rose now, composed but seething.

“Your Majesty,” she said coolly, “perhaps in your Empire things are done… differently. But where we come from, a woman does not leave her husband’s house. Not for any reason.”

She turned her head toward Rey, and her voice, though still poised, struck like a whip.

“You should know better, Rey. If you walk away from this marriage, you will bring shame upon both our families.”

Rey’s breath caught.

“You will not be welcomed back,” Adah continued. “Not into my home. Not into my kingdom. As a discarded wife, you would be no one. A nothing.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd like aftershocks.

Rey stared at her mother, stunned.

She had expected disappointment, maybe even disapproval. But not this.

She looked to Kylo Ren, desperate for something, anything, but he was already looking at her. And in his eyes… was that pity?

Or guilt?

Either way, he said nothing.

And Rey, for the first time that night, felt the edges of her resolve begin to fray.

That night, Rey lay in bed, tears streaming down her face, soaking her beautifully embroidered silk pillows.

Jess had stayed with her for hours, holding her, stroking her hair. They had wept together, the silence between sobs filled only with the soft rustling of silk and sorrow. But eventually, Jess had drifted off beside her, exhausted.

Rey remained awake.

It felt like the entire world had turned against her. That no matter what she did, she would never be free. If she stayed, she would remain a pawn in a political marriage. But if she left, she would be cast out, not just from the palace, but from the only home she had ever known.

Would she truly be willing to give up everything?

Her title. Her people. Her mother’s love.

To become no one?

She sat up, her chest tight, her eyes burning.

Yes. She was willing. Because nothing, nothing, could be worse than feeling this trapped.

She no longer cared about kingdoms or crowns. She just wanted to go. To lose herself in the night. To grieve in peace, far from courtiers and expectations. To run until the Gods took mercy on her.

Carefully, Rey slipped out of bed, making sure not to wake Jess. She tiptoed through her chambers and into the corridor, her bare feet silent on the cool stone.

The palace was asleep.

Once outside in the courtyard, she broke into a run, across the tiled gardens, through the harem gates, past the moonlit terraces. Her shawl flew behind her like a golden banner as she made her way toward the palace stables.

At the outer wall, she froze.

A few guards were huddled by a brazier, fast asleep, their helmets resting at odd angles on their heads. They didn’t stir as Rey slipped past them.

The Emperor’s horses were tethered nearby.

She approached one, dark-eyed and sleek, with trembling hands, untied it, mounted, and gave it a soft command.

The horse snorted, then bolted.

The gallop echoed through the still night. One of the guards stirred, blinking sleepily just in time to see a streak of yellow vanish through the trees, Rey’s shawl snapping in the wind like a warning.

By the time he shouted, she was gone.

Chapter Text

Naboo

Rey rode on for what felt like forever.

Low-hanging branches whipped her face and tugged at her clothes, but she didn’t care. She just needed to get away, from the palace, from her title, from him. The wind howled in her ears, but she welcomed it. It made her feel alive.

Eventually, her horse began to slow, its hooves heavy against the forest floor. Near a great oak tree, it came to a full stop.

“Come on!” Rey urged, yanking at the reins. “Keep going!”

But the horse reared up suddenly, rising on its hind legs. Rey let out a startled cry as she was thrown backward. She hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of her. Groaning, she propped herself up on her elbows just in time to see the horse pivot and bolt, galloping back the way it came.

“No…” she whispered, her voice breaking as she collapsed onto her back.

The stars blinked down at her. Dawn was not far off, the sky already softening to a pale grey. She was alone now, deep in a forest she didn’t recognize. The moonlight filtered through the trees in ribbons, and everything smelled of damp moss and earth.

She closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of exhaustion. She hadn’t noticed the rustling behind the bushes.

When she opened them again, she nearly screamed.

A young woman was crouched over her, her face full of concern.

And just behind her, a large cow peered over her shoulder, its enormous eyes blinking curiously down at Rey.

“Oh!” Rey gasped, scrambling up.

“I’m so sorry!” the woman said quickly, stepping back with a kind smile. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s alright,” Rey said, placing a trembling hand on her chest.

The young woman’s eyes moved over her, taking in the silk robes, the mud-streaked golden bangles, the jeweled belt glinting faintly in the moonlight.

“Well now… where did you come from?” she asked, tilting her head.

“I…” Rey began, but the words caught in her throat.

“Are you from the palace?” the woman asked again, her tone more curious than suspicious. “What are you doing out here at this hour?”

“I… was just out for some fresh air,” Rey said finally, the lie sounding thin even to her own ears.

“Ah,” the woman said, clearly unconvinced but choosing not to press. A faint, amused smile played on her lips.

“As for me, I was just looking for Brinda here,” she added, reaching out to stroke the cow’s soft ears. “She didn’t come home with the rest of the herd this evening.”

“Oh.” Rey still felt breathless, her heart just beginning to slow.

“I’m Rose Tico,” the woman said brightly, stepping forward with a friendly hand extended.

“Thank you, Rose,” Rey murmured, managing a weak smile as she took her hand.

She was surprised by the strength in the woman’s grip as Rose helped her to her feet in one fluid motion.

“I’m Rey,” she added. “And thank you… again.”

“You’re welcome. But we should get moving,” Rose said, glancing around the shadowed trees. She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. “It’s getting cold. And there might be bandits about. You’d be a gift-wrapped prize, looking like that.”

She gestured toward the gold glinting beneath Rey’s shawl.

Flushing, Rey tugged the muddy fabric tighter around herself in a poor attempt to hide the jewelry.

“Do you live here?” she asked.

“Oh, not in the forest. My sister and I have a small farm, just past the ridge,” Rose said, already beginning to guide Brinda with a gentle nudge.

Rey tried to walk beside her, but a sharp pain flared in her side and she winced, instinctively reaching for her ribs.

Rose noticed immediately. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” Rey insisted. “My horse just threw me.”

Rose grimaced. “Sounds like a real party.”

Rey chuckled, wincing slightly as she clutched her side.

“Well, we can’t go chasing after your horse now,” Rose said. “But don’t worry, it’ll find its way home. Probably just got spooked by a tree spirit.”

“A tree spirit?” Rey raised an eyebrow.

Rose nodded solemnly, glancing up at the thick canopy of the great oak tree overhead. “Trust me, I know all about tree spirits. And even more about horses.”

Rey didn’t reply. She had never heard of tree spirits before, but something about the strange confidence in this girl’s voice made her believe, if not in the spirits themselves, then at least in Rose’s deep knowledge of the forest. And if Rose and her cow were headed away from the palace, then Rey had every reason to follow.

“Come on, let’s go,” Rose said, motioning her forward.

They pushed their way through a tangle of bushes until Rose revealed a narrow, worn path hidden behind a wild hedgerow. She drew a small scythe from her belt and began slicing through the thickest brush ahead of them with practiced ease.

Brinda, reluctant and shivering in the dark, needed coaxing. Rey and Rose both tugged and pushed the gentle creature forward until they reached the edge of the path. Then, with a joyful moo, Brinda bounded ahead, her hooves kicking up small clouds of dew and soil.

“Here we are,” Rose said, giving the scythe a little twirl before slipping it back into her sash. “Brinda knows the way from here.”

From the darkness ahead, Brinda let out another approving moo.

“Don’t run too fast, Brinda!” Rose called.

Rey smiled.

“Do you like talking to animals?” she asked.

“Oh, absolutely,” Rose grinned. “I talk to all the animals on our farm. They’re much better listeners than people.”

“That’s sweet,” Rey said softly.

Rose shrugged. “We don’t get many human visitors where we live. And the First Order mostly leaves us alone. Not much for them to steal or burn, I guess.”

Rey’s smile faded.

She looked down at her muddied skirts, still catching her breath as the weight of that name, First Order, settled between them.

Silence fell over the two women as they continued walking beneath the thick canopy of trees. The world around them was hushed, save for the distant hooting of owls and the crunch of their feet over damp earth.

Rey, still catching her breath from the chaos of her escape, felt the panic of unfamiliar surroundings begin to settle. In its place, however, rose the dull ache of something worse, grief, and the cold echo of her mother’s voice at the feast.

You will be no one. A nothing.

Her chest tightened at the memory.

She didn’t want to cry again, not in front of Rose. Not after everything.

She wished Rose would say something. Anything to distract her.

Eventually, she did.

“So,” Rose said gently, “you never told me where you’re from.”

Rey hesitated. “I’m from Naboo.”

Rose gave her a sidelong glance. “Running away from your husband or your family?”

“Not really…”

Rose was quick to backtrack. “Forgive me for asking. It’s just, people don’t wander into this forest by accident. Not unless they’re trying to leave something behind.”

Rey gave a weak smile. “It’s alright. I am running away from something. I’m just… not sure I want to talk about it right now.”

Rose nodded, her face soft with understanding. “Of course.”

Rey smiled faintly back. The silence returned as they walked, more companionable this time. Then, faint, but unmistakable, came the sound of galloping hooves.

Rey tilted her head. “That’s probably Brinda.”

But Rose suddenly stopped, her shoulders stiffening.

“Do you hear that?” she whispered.

Rey blinked, confused. “Isn’t it just…”

“That’s not the sound of a cow,” Rose cut in.

A beat of silence.

Then, the underbrush exploded.

From the trees ahead burst a giant figure on horseback, the hooves of the black stallion pounding against the forest floor like thunder. Cloak whipping behind him, his dark hair unbound, his face barely visible in the moonlight, Rey knew before he even slowed the horse.

It was him.

The Emperor.

Kylo Ren.

Kylo Ren yanked on the reins, bringing his horse to a sudden, jarring stop. His face was thunder, jaw clenched, eyes blazing. He looked angrier than Rey had ever seen him.

Before she could speak, Rose stepped forward like a bolt of lightning, planting herself between Rey and the Emperor. She raised her scythe with both hands, the curved blade flashing under the moonlight.

“Get back!” she shouted, steady despite the tremble in her voice. “Get away from our path or I’ll lop your head off!”

Rey’s heart lurched. She was frozen in horror, watching a tiny farm girl threaten the most powerful man in the galaxy.

“No, Rose!” Rey gasped. “Don’t…”

Too late.

In a flash, Kylo Ren dismounted. His long black cloak swept the air as his boots hit the ground. His sword was already in his hand, glinting cold and deadly in the moonlight.

“Rey,” he barked, not even looking at Rose. His voice shook with fury and something else, fear. “What are you doing?”

Rose faltered, glancing between the two of them. The intimacy in his voice hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Why did you follow me?” Rey cried, her voice breaking. “I left because I wanted to!”

“You don’t know what you’re doing!” he snapped, taking a step forward.

“No,” she said firmly, her voice rising above the crackle of leaves. “I do. For the first time…I do.”

Kylo’s breath hitched. He stood still for a moment, and then, slowly, cautiously, he reached out a gloved hand toward her.

“We can figure something out,” he said, gentler now. “I swear to you, Rey, running away won’t fix anything. Trust me, I’ve tried it. I’ve lived it. It only makes everything worse.”

Behind her, Rose, sensing the shift in tone, lowered her scythe. With a sideways glance at Rey, she took a slow step back, giving them space.

“Please,” Kylo said again, stepping forward, his voice low and hoarse. “Don’t do this. There must be another way.”

He sheathed his sword and stood before her now, unarmed, his hand still outstretched.

Rey was crying, quietly, hopelessly.

“I can’t go back,” she said. “I have nowhere to go.”

Kylo’s brows furrowed. “Yes, you do.”

He stepped closer, voice soft as velvet. “My palace will always be open to you, Rey. Whether we’re married or not. That was never the condition.”

Rey wiped at her eyes with her ruined shawl, smearing mud across her cheeks and brow. She looked a mess, disheveled, tearstained, exhausted. But somehow, he thought, she had never looked more human. More real.

“Let’s go back to the palace,” he said gently. “We’ll talk about this. Just… come home.”

Rey didn’t move.

She stared at him, his outstretched hand, the soft set of his jaw, the strange gentleness in his dark eyes. The Emperor of the First Order stood before her, ankle-deep in forest mud, without a sword in his hand, without a crown on his head, just a man. A man who had ridden into the forest in the dead of night, who had chased her through the wilderness, not to punish her, but to bring her home.

Rey didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. Her limbs ached from the fall, her fine clothes were streaked with mud, and her heart felt heavier than it ever had before. All she wanted was to rest, just for a moment, to stop thinking.

“Wait a minute.”

Rose’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade. She stepped forward, placing herself squarely between Rey and Kylo Ren.

“You’re Kylo Ren,” she said, her tone filled with suspicion and something fiercer, contempt. Then she turned back to Rey, eyes narrowing as if seeing her companion in a new, jarring light.

“And you’re his wife?”

Rey let out a long, tired sigh. “It’s a long story.”

Kylo’s gaze flicked to Rose now, curious and wary.

“And who are you?” he asked, the steel in his voice dulled slightly by fatigue.

“I’m Rose Tico,” she replied without hesitation, gripping the scythe in her hands like a challenge. “And I don’t care if you’re the Emperor. She said no.”

The air tightened around them.

Kylo looked at her, not with rage, but with something closer to disbelief. As though he’d forgotten what it was like to be questioned by someone who wasn’t afraid.

Rey watched them both, her chest rising and falling with uneven breath. She knew Rose meant well. But she also knew the moment was slipping from her hands.

“It’s alright,” she said softly. “I’ll go.”

Rose turned to her, eyes wide. “Rey…”

Rey gave her a small, weary smile. “I have to go back. There are things I need to face. Questions I need answered. Running won’t solve anything.”

There was a pause, and then Kylo Ren stepped toward her and offered his hand again, calmer this time. Not demanding, just waiting.

She took it.

He mounted the horse first, then reached down and helped Rey up behind him. She settled against him without a word, her head already feeling too heavy for her shoulders.

“Thank you, Rose,” she murmured, glancing down at the girl who had helped her when no one else had. “I hope you make it home before your sister comes looking for you.”

Rose smiled faintly. “Oh, she definitely will. And she’ll yell at me for two hours. But I’ll live.”

She took a step back, letting them pass.

Kylo turned the horse around, guiding it gently back toward the forest path. Just as they reached the trees, Rey twisted in her seat.

“I’ll never forget you, Rose!”

Rose cupped her hands around her mouth. “I hope we meet again, Rey from Naboo!”

The first light of dawn was breaking now, casting everything in soft gold. The mist began to lift from the forest floor as horse and rider disappeared between the trees, leaving behind only hoofprints and the lingering warmth of an unexpected friendship.

“How did you know I was gone?” Rey asked quietly, breaking the long silence between them.

They had been riding for nearly half an hour, neither of them speaking, the only sounds the rhythmic beat of the horse’s hooves and the soft hush of the forest waking around them.

Kylo Ren didn’t turn to look at her. “The palace guard informed me.”

“You could have sent one of them after me,” she muttered, her fingers tightening around the saddle.

“I could have,” he said, a trace of amusement curling into his voice, “but they wouldn’t have done such a good job of convincing you to come back… would they?”

He smirked, and Rey, caught off guard, felt her cheeks flush.

She looked away quickly, focusing on the trail ahead. The morning light filtered gently through the leaves, golden and soft, dappling the forest floor. Somewhere to her right, a mother rabbit hopped gently through a bush, her tiny babies following close behind. Rey smiled faintly at the sight. A deer stood still for a heartbeat in the distance, eyes wide, ears flicking, then bolted at the sound of hooves, vanishing like a ghost into the underbrush.

It felt almost peaceful.

And then Kylo Ren cursed under his breath and yanked sharply on the reins, bringing the horse to a sudden halt.

“What is it?” Rey asked, startled.

But Kylo didn’t answer. He was staring ahead, body tense, brows drawn tight.

Rey followed his gaze.

There, half-obscured by ivy and mist, stood a marble pillar. Weathered, cracked, but still upright, its surface covered in faint carvings and moss.

“It… it can’t be…” Kylo whispered, sliding down from the saddle without taking his eyes off it.

Rey watched him, alarmed by the sudden shift in his tone. He approached the pillar slowly, as though it might vanish if he got too close. His gloved fingers brushed the stone reverently.

“What is it?” Rey asked again, quieter this time.

He didn’t answer at first. His expression was unreadable, caught somewhere between wonder and dread.

“This… wasn’t supposed to exist anymore,” he said at last.

Then he looked over his shoulder at her, and there was something in his eyes she hadn’t seen before.

Fear.

“It… it can’t be…” Kylo whispered.

Rey followed his gaze, her brow furrowed. It looked like a grave marker of some kind, just a marble pillar, ancient and worn, rising crooked from the earth. The brush around it was wild and unkempt, as if no one had walked here in decades. Ivy coiled around its base like it was trying to reclaim it.

Kylo dismounted slowly, his movements oddly reverent. He beckoned to Rey without looking back.

“Come with me.”

Rey hesitated, shifting in the saddle. Her legs ached, her side still throbbed, and she wasn’t exactly dressed for trekking through dense brush. But there was something about his voice, low and hushed, like he was chasing the edges of a memory, that made her slip down and follow.

“It’s alright,” he said, catching the hesitation in her eyes. “I just want to show you something.”

“Is there something here?” she asked, brushing aside a nettled vine as he guided her through the thicket.

“If my memory’s right…” Kylo murmured, “it should be just past here.”

The undergrowth seemed to thicken, swallowing sound, light, and time. Rey kept close behind him, boots squelching softly in the loam. The air had turned damp and still, like the forest itself was holding its breath.

Then, as the last of the hanging vines parted, they stepped into a clearing, and Rey gasped aloud.

Bathed in the blush of dawn, half-hidden by brambles and crawling ivy, stood a building so strange and beautiful it didn’t seem real. Carved from pale stone that still shimmered beneath years of moss and weather, it rose like a dream out of the wild.

It was enormous. Graceful domes peeked through the canopy, intricate reliefs traced the archways, lions, stars, goddesses with open arms. It might have once been a temple or a palace, something holy and full of memory.

But the vines had crept in, and the forest had begun to swallow it.

“I knew it,” Kylo Ren breathed. “What in the stars brought me here again…”

Rey turned to him, wide-eyed. “What is this place?”

Kylo’s jaw tightened. “I was here once. Many years ago.”

“A palace?” she guessed.

He shook his head, bitterly. “No. A mausoleum.”

Rey looked at him, startled.

“Whose?”

Kylo didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were fixed on the structure, like it had reached into the past and pulled something from deep inside him.

“My mother brought me here,” he said at last, voice distant. “When I was a boy. To teach me something about legacy… and about loss.”

Rey stared at him, caught between the beauty of the place and the heaviness of his words.

“Whose tombs lie here?” she asked quietly.

He exhaled.

Rey turned toward him, confusion clouding her face.

“This is the tomb my grandfather built for my grandmother when she died,” Kylo said quietly.

Rey’s gaze shifted back to the marble structure. It stood solemn and overgrown, yet still impossibly regal.

“Why is it abandoned?” she asked, her voice soft. “Why leave it like this?”

Kylo bent slightly and nudged aside a thick layer of moss with his boot. Beneath the green, the stone tiles still gleamed faintly, white veined with gold.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the story,” he began. “My grandfather was a brilliant man, except for one thing.”

Rey tilted her head, listening closely.

“He had one fatal weakness.”

“What was that?” she asked, genuinely curious now.

Kylo’s gaze was fixed on the tomb, but his voice dropped into something more intimate.

“Love.”

Rey’s eyebrows rose slightly.

“When my grandmother died, he was… shattered,” Kylo continued. “He brought down an entire empire trying to build this place. Bankrupted the treasury. Ignored his people. Neglected everything just to craft this perfect shrine for her.”

Rey swallowed. “Your mother told me parts of the story. She said he went mad with grief. But she never mentioned this tomb.”

“She wouldn’t have,” Kylo said bitterly. “This place is our family’s secret shame. Proof that even the strongest of us, maybe especially the strongest, can be undone by something as reckless as love.”

Rey stepped closer to him.

“How could something so beautiful be shameful?” she asked. “It’s not madness, it’s devotion. It’s love. It’s the only part of him worth remembering.”

Kylo’s mouth twitched. “It’s a monument to his downfall.”

“No,” Rey said firmly. “It’s a monument to the fact that he loved someone more than power.”

He looked away, jaw tight. “And he paid for it. We all did.”

She didn’t press him further. The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortable, just full, dense with unspoken things.

Then Rey took a deep breath and looked back at the tomb.

“Let’s go see what’s inside.”

Before Kylo could stop her, she lifted her skirts and took off across the clearing, her boots skimming the damp undergrowth as she bounded toward the entrance.

“Rey!” Kylo called sharply. “Wait—!”

But she didn’t.

He hesitated, then sighed, striding after her.

Somewhere deep in his chest, something shifted. He wasn’t sure if it was fear… or hope.

Rey ran all the way to the towering white doors of the mausoleum, her breath catching with the effort. She pushed them open with both hands, and they groaned in protest as they swung wide, revealing a vast, shadowed chamber within.

A hush fell over her.

The room was cavernous, its stillness undisturbed for decades. At the center stood a single raised marble tomb, simple in shape, yet immense in presence. Pale shafts of early morning light streamed in through high, narrow windows, catching the dust as it danced through the air.

Her slippers tapped gently against the granite floor, each step echoing like a whisper from the past. She walked slowly toward the tomb, but her gaze drifted upward.

The ceiling was a crumbling masterpiece, its frescoes faded but still breathtaking. Angels, goddesses, mythical beasts and endless garlands of lilies and lotus blossoms spun across the high vault in soft, swirling colors. Mountains touched clouds, rivers wound through kingdoms, and there, amidst them all, a single flame hovered in the hand of a veiled figure.

Rey’s heart tightened as she took it in, awe stirring something ancient inside her.

She approached the tomb and laid her fingers lightly on the smooth marble, dusty, but unmarred. Then, out of the corner of her eye, something drew her gaze to the wall on her right.

A mural.

She turned fully, and the breath left her body.

There, immortalized in tiny mosaic tiles, was a woman of surpassing grace. She was dressed in soft blue robes, her dark brown hair strewn with white jasmine blossoms that tumbled like waves down her shoulders. In one hand, she held a small wooden carving, plain and worn from touch. In the other, a golden orb, glowing as if lit from within. But it was the woman’s eyes, those gentle, luminous eyes, that transfixed Rey. They gazed out into the room with eternal softness, as though still waiting for someone to return.

Rey took a step closer, as if drawn by something beyond thought.

She stared into those eyes, and it felt as though she were staring into a memory that wasn’t her own.

Behind her, the echo of footsteps reached her ears, measured, reluctant. Kylo Ren had entered the chamber, each step a quiet battle against the ghosts he’d tried to bury.

His voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper.

“Padmé Amidala.”

Rey turned slowly.

She looked at him and in that moment, she understood. The resemblance. The sadness. The anger. The ruin and the yearning.

She had seen those eyes before. Not just in the mosaic, but in the man who now stood before her, bathed in shadows and light.

Chapter Text

Naboo

The sun was already high and blazing when Rey and Kylo Ren finally returned to the palace.

Dust clung to her silk robes. Her golden bangles were dulled with grime. Sweat traced the curve of her back. She was tired, bone tired, in a way that reached past her muscles and straight into her spirit.

At the gates, Leia stood waiting.

Rey dismounted slowly. She scanned the courtyard, but her parents were nowhere in sight. Of course. She had humiliated them. Brought disgrace not just to herself, but to their name. There would be no warm embrace. No tearful reunion. Only silence.

And maybe that hurt more than any scolding ever could.

Later that afternoon, Jess sat beside her, gently brushing out the knots and dried leaves from Rey’s tangled hair. She cried the whole time, the tears spilling silently onto Rey’s lap.

“I wanted to go too,” Jess whispered, her voice trembling. “I would’ve gone with you, Rey. Anywhere.”

Rey cried with her.

Jess had always been there, from stolen sweets in the kitchens of Jakku to whispered secrets under silk blankets. And she was still here. She had chosen to stay. Not for duty or title, but for Rey.

And suddenly, things came into focus.

Rey couldn’t just leave.

She had brought others with her, maids, courtiers, advisors, old friends, even Poe. They were here because she was. They had left everything behind to follow her into this marriage, into this world. She had a responsibility. She had become something more than a daughter or a runaway bride.

She had become a center of gravity.

After a long bath, Rey collapsed into her bed, letting the warmth of the water and the ache of her journey settle into her skin. She asked not to be disturbed, not even by Leia, who quietly left a plate of honey-dipped sweets by her door.

The gesture made Rey’s heart twist. She knew Leia loved her, knew she only wanted to help, but Rey needed time.

She had to make a choice.

Not just for herself, but for the people who had bound their fates to hers.

She closed her eyes, the scent of jasmine and sugar lingering in the air, and tried to imagine a future she could live with.

Not as someone else’s pawn. Not as a discarded wife. Not as a broken daughter.

But as Rey.

The King and Queen of Jakku departed a few days after the incident, and by then Rey had begun to believe, perhaps naively, that she had been forgiven.

That morning, before the procession assembled in the outer courtyard, Rey sat before the idol of her goddess. Kneeling on the cool stone floor, she whispered prayers for strength, not for her marriage, or her parents, but for herself. To endure. To choose wisely. To stand on her own.

Kylo Ren had made good on his word, assuring her parents that no matter what happened between them, Rey would always have a place in Naboo.

It should have been reassuring.

But later, in the privacy of her chambers, her mother gave her the quiet rebuke she’d been dreading.

“Divorce,” Queen Ada said, “is not a word that belongs on the lips of a daughter of Jakku. It is not something noble women do.”

Her father had been gentler. He held her close and stroked her hair, whispering only, “You’re still our girl, Rey. But you must be careful now.”

There had been a kiss on the forehead from her mother, and a promise to take the sweets and fruits Rey had packed for her young cousins. And when the time came, Rey stood at the gates with Leia and watched the royal retinue disappear into the horizon. She waved until the banners were no longer visible and the dust on the road had settled.

Tears stung her eyes.

“Rey,” Leia said gently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Come help me in the garden, dear.”

They walked together to the rose beds, where the morning light was bright and golden and the scent of dew still lingered in the air. One of the gardeners had left a small blade resting on the edge of a stone basin. Leia picked it up without a word.

“Will you tie these roses up after I cut them?” she asked softly.

Rey nodded.

Leia knelt and began trimming the blossoms, her movements slow, deliberate, almost meditative.

“I love roses,” she said after a while, perhaps hoping to make the moment feel lighter than it was. “Especially these. The deep red ones. They always bloom brightest after a storm.”

Rey said nothing. Her hands moved steadily, tying the cut stems with gentle fingers. But her face was unreadable.

The silence between them wasn’t cold, it was full of the things neither knew quite how to say. The love that had grown between them was still there, but it was now edged with something else: disappointment, perhaps. Or fear.

Or the terrible ache of knowing that love alone could not untangle what Rey had to face.

“What are your favorite flowers, Rey?” Leia asked, her voice light, casual.

Rey didn’t answer at first. She simply raised a hand and pointed toward a patch of small white blossoms growing beneath an olive tree.

Leia followed her gaze and smiled.

“Ah. Daisies.”

They were quiet again, save for the soft snipping of the shears and the rustle of vines as Rey twisted them into loops, preparing to bind the roses Leia handed her. The garden was still, the hush of late morning wrapping around them like a thin veil.

“So, Rey,” Leia said after a while, not looking up, “have you decided what you’re going to do?”

Rey didn’t need to ask what she meant.

“No…” she murmured. “I thought I had, but I need to give it some more thought.”

“Of course,” Leia said quietly, knowingly, and continued cutting the next stem.

A few minutes passed, peaceful, almost, but Rey’s heart was not at rest. There was something she had been carrying since that strange, luminous morning. And now, in the safety of Leia’s company, she could no longer hold it back.

“I saw your mother’s tomb,” Rey said, the words falling from her mouth all at once.

Leia didn’t turn. Her hand paused in the air, the blade still hovering over a bloom. Rey saw her shoulders stiffen, her head lift ever so slightly.

“How?” Leia asked at last. Her voice was soft, but there was something beneath it, something ancient and delicate, like an old photograph hidden in a drawer too long.

“I don’t know,” Rey admitted. “The Emperor and I…we were returning from the forest. We just… came across it.”

“Oh,” Leia breathed, turning around slowly, her brow furrowed. “Is that so?”

“It was so strange being there,” Rey murmured, as if still caught in that haunted morning. “Like we were surrounded by the ghosts of the past.”

Leia didn’t answer right away. Her gaze dropped to the clippers in her hand, then out toward the patch of daisies. The wind shifted, stirring the white petals gently.

Rey bent to pick up a broken rose stem.

“Why does no one go there anymore?” she asked. “The place is beautiful… but it’s crumbling. Forgotten.”

Leia let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Personally, I prefer not to dwell on the past,” she said, keeping her tone light. “Or be surrounded by ghosts.”

Rey gave a small smile, but her eyes stayed thoughtful.

“Your mother was such a beautiful woman,” she said quietly.

“That’s what I’m told,” Leia replied with a faint smile of her own.

“She had such kind eyes.”

“Yes,” Leia said again, more softly this time, “she did.”

“She must have been a great queen.”

“They tell me that too.” Leia cut another rose and handed it to Rey. Their fingers brushed briefly.

They worked in silence for a while, the only sound the soft snipping of stems and the rustle of leaves. Leia kept glancing sideways at Rey.

“You know,” she said at last, “the Emperor has invited you to stay here for as long as you like.”

“I know,” Rey sighed.

“Then what’s the problem?”

Rey paused, twisting the vine in her hands.

“I feel as though my parents have abandoned me,” she said quietly.

Leia nodded. “Ah.”

“I know that’s strange to say,” Rey added quickly, “considering I’m a married woman. I’m not a child anymore…”

“Your feelings are valid, Rey,” Leia said gently. “Even if they surprise you.”

Rey bit her lip. “I know we’re not ordinary people. We can’t afford to think only of ourselves, not when we carry the responsibilities of others.”

Leia looked at her carefully. “Yes. And in time, those words may even bring you comfort.”

Rey’s hands trembled as she wiped her tears away.

“I’m afraid,” Leia said, “that’s the bargain we make, being royal.”

“But you didn’t,” Rey said, looking at her with a faint accusation. “You married for love.”

Leia chuckled, a warm, nostalgic sound. “And it wasn’t easy. People adored Han… and despised me.”

“In spite of all the sacrifices you made?”

“In spite of all the sacrifices I made,” Leia echoed, nodding slowly. “And still, I regret nothing.”

Rey exhaled shakily. “Sometimes I wish I was a man.”

Leia laughed. “You sound just like Ben when he was little. He couldn’t wait to grow up and be just like his father.”

The mood shifted slightly, an ache in the air now, but Leia kept her smile.

“Rey,” she said, setting the clippers down, “I have a wonderful idea. You know what you need right now?”

Rey looked at her, puzzled. “What?”

“You need to see Luke.”

“Your brother?”

Leia lit up with a rare, childlike excitement. “Yes!”

Rey had heard rumors and stories during her time in Naboo, strange tales about Luke Skywalker. Mystical things. Unbelievable things.

“But why?” she asked, hesitant.

“You may learn more from him than from any court advisor or nobleman,” Leia said. “He’s not just my brother, Rey. He’s a healer now. Head priest of the Temple of the Waters. You might find what you’re looking for; peace, clarity, maybe even a sense of purpose.”

Rey shifted uncertainly. The idea of traveling alone with the Emperor made her wary. Part of her still didn’t trust where he stood, or where she did.

Sensing her hesitation, Leia gently added, “I know what you’re thinking. But it’s a pilgrimage, not a trap. And Ach-To… it’s the most beautiful province I’ve ever seen. It’s where the land meets the sea and the soul has no choice but to quiet down.”

That last part made Rey pause. It stirred something inside her.

Ach-To.

A place far from courts and accusations and betrayals. A place where maybe she could hear herself think.

“If that is your wish,” she said at last, “then I’ll go.”

Leia beamed, her eyes suddenly misty. “Wonderful. I’ll write to Luke and make the arrangements immediately.”

Kylo Ren entered Phasma’s chambers that evening for the first time in weeks.

Phasma lay reclined on her opulent bed, surrounded by scrolls of parchment discarded like shed skin across the silk sheets. One of her ladies sat elegantly on the floor nearby, playing a light, cheerful tune on a flute. But as soon as the Emperor entered, the women scattered, robes rustling as they excused themselves and bowed out of sight.

“There you are,” Phasma drawled, sitting up and brushing parchment from her lap. “I thought you had forgotten me completely.”

Kylo gave a faint smirk and lowered himself onto the bed. Phasma poured him a goblet of spiced wine before settling back onto her cushions, watching him with a feline stillness.

“I hear your mother is planning a pilgrimage to Ach To,” she remarked lightly, “for you and the little Jakku urchin.”

Kylo Ren took a sip of wine but said nothing. He didn’t flinch at the insult.

“I suppose she thinks your mad uncle can talk you out of divorcing each other,” Phasma went on, eyeing him over the rim of her goblet.

“I doubt that,” was all Kylo said.

They sat in silence for a moment. Phasma studied him, then decided the moment had come to play her most valuable card.

“Before you go off with Rey,” she said slowly, “I should warn you about something.”

At the mention of Rey’s name, Kylo Ren finally turned to look at her directly.

“And what’s that?”

Phasma leaned forward and produced a small glass bottle from her pocket.

“This,” she said with quiet triumph, “was found by one of my servants… among Rey’s belongings.”

Kylo reached out to take it, but Phasma lifted it just out of reach, teasing.

“Don’t you want to know what it is first?”

Kylo frowned, growing impatient. “What is it? And why are your servants rummaging through Rey’s things?”

She savored the moment, then whispered the word like a secret.

“Poison.”

Kylo Ren paled.

“Why would she carry poison?”

Phasma widened her eyes in mock innocence. “Isn’t it obvious? She was planning to use it.”

“On who?”

Phasma lowered her voice, feigning dread. “On you.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Only the sound of silk curtains rustling in the breeze filled the void.

“Are you shocked?” Phasma asked, watching him closely.

“No,” Kylo Ren said, though his expression grew dark with thought.

“What will you do now?” she pressed, expecting Rey’s fate to be sealed with this revelation.

“I don’t know.”

Phasma laughed coldly. “By all means, take your time. By then she’ll have poisoned half the palace.”

“Oh, be quiet, Phasma,” Kylo snapped, his voice laced with anger. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to.”

Phasma blinked. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I know it was you who ordered that servant to sabotage my dinner during the welcome feast.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said smoothly, turning away from him and fiddling with the bottle in her hand.

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t,” Kylo sneered. “But know this, the next time something like that happens, I’ll know exactly where to look.”

Phasma rounded on him, eyes flashing.

“How can you say that?” she demanded, her voice rising. “I’ve been your most loyal friend, your confidante for years!”

“I don’t know who to trust anymore,” Kylo muttered, more to himself than to her.

They stared at each other in silence. Then Kylo stood to leave.

“Won’t you stay the night?” Phasma asked, her voice softening, turning coy.

“I need to prepare for the journey to Ach To.”

Phasma gave an irritated huff. “You’re still going? After what I’ve just told you?”

Kylo ignored her and walked out.

Phasma stood motionless, staring after him in disbelief. Her fingers tightened around the little glass bottle. What was she going to report back to Snoke and Hux now?

No matter.

After the Emperor and the Jakku princess returned from their sacred little pilgrimage, the divorce could be finalized. Soon, Phasma would be his favorite again.

Snoke had toasted to it just last night, when she had joined him and Hux for dinner to discuss certain… matters of state. That evening, they’d shared an interesting conversation about the future of the First Order.

Snoke was growing increasingly wary. He believed the Emperor had already begun laying plans to arrange a marriage between one of Rey’s brothers and a princess of Dantooine. He suspected quiet dealings had taken place between the Emperor and the King and Queen of Jakku. If that alliance solidified, the Jakku royals, already powerful from their daughter’s marriage, would become even more entrenched.

Phasma couldn’t care less about the dynastic squabbles of kings.

Her concern was the harem.

Her place.

Her power.

And once Rey was gone from the palace, for good, Phasma would see to it that she never returned.

Chapter Text

Naboo

Jess woke a reluctant Rey on the morning of their journey with a cheerful smile and a steaming cup of spiced tea. Rey took the cup with a groggy frown, her hair tangled and sleep still clinging to her face.

“Come on, Rey,” Jess chirped. “I thought you were excited!”

Rey grumbled, swiping a stray lock of hair from her cheek. She began dressing slowly, stiffly, for the long journey ahead.

It was true, she had been excited once. The thought of seeing Ach To, with its lush green hills and mist-covered shores, had filled her with curiosity. But lately, she wore her smiles more for Leia’s sake than her own.

Leia was the one who had faith in this pilgrimage. As she helped her daughter-in-law into the palanquin later that morning, then held out her hand to her son already mounted on his horse, she could only hope that her brother might succeed where others had failed.

She wanted this marriage to survive. She wanted Rey to find peace. And above all, she wanted her son to stop drifting like a ghost through his own kingdom.

When Kylo Ren reached for her hand, Leia closed her eyes for a moment and silently prayed.

He could feel it in her grip, that quiet but unwavering strength that had carried them both through wars and wounds.

“Give my love to Luke,” she said softly. “And take care of Rey.”

Kylo Ren nodded, then turned and signaled for his retinue to fall into formation. Behind him, the soldiers and guards began to move, their armor glinting in the early sun.

Leia stepped to the side and turned to smile at Rey’s pale face, which peeked through the parted curtains of the palanquin.

“Make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble,” she whispered.

Rey gave her a weak smile. She wasn’t entirely sure how one went about keeping an Emperor out of trouble, especially one like Kylo Ren.

As the procession began to move through the palace gates, Rey leaned out a little, watching the road ahead. Kylo Ren rode a short distance in front of her, mounted on his magnificent black stallion. The horse towered above the others, its muscular form cutting a striking figure against the dusty path.

She watched quietly, amused as the beast tossed its head from side to side with imperious flair, so like its master that it made her smile. The sunlight danced along its thick, glossy mane as Kylo reached out and gently stroked one of its ears. The gesture was unexpectedly tender.

Just as he straightened in the saddle, he turned and caught her watching him.

Startled, Rey ducked back into the palanquin, wiping the smile from her lips.

Moments later, she heard hoofbeats drawing closer, and then Kylo Ren was riding alongside her, his silhouette casting a shadow across the curtains.

“Is there something you need, Princess?” he asked coolly.

Rey parted the curtain and poked her head out just enough to meet his eyes.

“I was just… watching the birds,” she said primly.

“Ah.” He smirked.

With a click of his tongue and a tug of the reins, the stallion sprang forward and Kylo Ren galloped ahead once more, disappearing into the dust and morning sun.

Opposite her, Jess raised her eyebrows and smirked.

Rey let the curtain fall closed again and did not look out for the rest of the morning.

Outskirts of Tatooine

At length, Rey drifted into a fitful sleep, lulled by the gentle sway of the palanquin and the rhythmic clink of marching armor. She awoke with a jolt as the palanquin was lowered to the ground.

“What’s going on?” she mumbled, still half-dreaming.

“We’re taking a break,” Jess answered, already stretching her arms. “Come on, let’s go have some tea and give the poor souls carrying us a chance to breathe.”

Rey stepped out of the palanquin beside her, blinking against the sun. The landscape that greeted her was nothing like the lush hills of Naboo. The air was dry and harsh, the wind carrying with it a sting of sand. Heat rose in shimmering waves off the ground. For a moment, Rey was transported to Jakku, her home district, where the sun ruled without mercy and water was more precious than gold.

Jess shaded her eyes with a hand. “Where even are we?”

“Tatooine,” one of the guards offered nearby, pouring dust from his boot. “We crossed the border an hour ago.”

Rey felt her breath catch. Tatooine.

The name struck something deep within her memory, ancient history, old palace gossip, something Leia once said. And then it came to her.

Tatooine was the ancestral home of the Emperor’s grandfather. The same man who had built the marble mausoleum deep in the forest. A man who had loved and lost so ruinously that he nearly took the Empire down with him.

Rey was just about to ask whether they could walk around the village when she heard the sharp bark of General Hux’s voice echo across the dusty field.

“Hurry up and get the horses watered and fetch clean water for the ladies to wash!” he shouted, his cape whipping behind him in the wind. “And get a move on. The Emperor doesn’t want to tarry!”

Despite Hux’s bluster, the break dragged on longer than expected. The sun dipped lower in the sky as the horses grew restless, stamping at the cracked earth. More than half the escort had been dispatched to locate water. They returned only as the sky turned burnt orange, accompanied by a handful of gaunt villagers, their faces drawn and sun-weathered.

One of them, a man with sunburnt skin and clothes faded from too much washing, stepped forward and collapsed to his knees before Kylo Ren, bowing his head low to the ground.

“Forgive us, Your Majesty!” he cried, voice hoarse. “But we have no food or water to offer you.”

Kylo Ren, who had been standing silently with one gloved hand resting on the hilt of his sword, frowned at the top of the man’s head.

“What do you mean you have nothing?”

“Our wells have dried up, Your Majesty,” the man said, trembling. “They were never deep to begin with… and with the long drought, we’ve lost all our water. Even our crops have failed.”

There was a stillness that followed those words. A breeze passed through the camp, stirring cloaks and raising little flurries of dust.

Rey looked from the kneeling man to the villagers behind him, tired women with cracked lips, children clinging to their skirts, old men leaning on staffs. There was desperation in their eyes, but also shame.

Rey felt something twist in her chest.

She glanced at Kylo Ren, whose jaw was clenched, his expression unreadable.

What would he do?

This was his grandfather’s homeland, his people’s roots and yet even here, the soil gave nothing back.

She waited, breath held, for the Emperor’s response.

Kylo Ren turned to General Hux.

“I want to see this village for myself.”

Hux stiffened. “Your Majesty, we’ve made plans to be in Ach To in three days,” he said cautiously. “If we delay any further, we risk throwing off the entire itinerary.”

Kylo Ren didn’t even look at him. “I believe my uncle will forgive the delay when he hears the reason.”

Then he turned back to the kneeling villager.

“As your Emperor,” he said, his voice lowering, “I would like to inspect your village and see what aid we can offer.”

The villager raised his head slowly, tears welling in his sun-worn eyes.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he whispered, as if unable to believe it.

Without waiting for further discussion, Kylo Ren began assembling a small escort. He mounted his horse, his cape whipping in the hot wind, when a familiar voice rang out behind him.

“Your Majesty, I would like to accompany you!”

Kylo Ren closed his eyes for a brief moment, already bracing himself.

“You, dear wife,” he said, voice carrying over the heads of the court, “would do well to stay behind and rest.”

But Rey was already stepping forward, her face set with stubborn grace. She stopped in front of his horse and looked up at him, unflinching.

“As your wife, it is my duty to help you carry out yours,” she said, loud enough for all to hear. “And as your Empress, I share your obligation to the people.”

A hush fell over the group. Kylo Ren looked down at her, then out at the gathered court, and let out a quiet sigh. He wasn’t in the mood for another public standoff.

With a slight nod, he relented.

Rey smiled, a quiet triumph in her expression as she climbed up behind him. She settled onto the horse and gently placed her hands on his shoulders.

They rode.

The sun dipped lower as they crossed the brittle earth. After ten minutes, they reached a scattered cluster of huts, low and worn with age. The air was still and heavy, the kind of silence that made even the birds cautious.

Rey looked around. The village had an aching emptiness to it, dull and sun-bleached, like hope had long since dried up and blown away with the wind.

“The rest of the village is just ahead, Your Majesty,” their guide said.

Kylo Ren dismounted, Rey following quickly behind. Slowly, people began to emerge from the huts, skeletal children clinging to their mothers, tired men shielding their eyes from the sun. Their faces were streaked with dust, their expressions wary.

“It’s alright,” Kylo Ren called out, raising his hands. “We are only here to help.”

“It’s the Emperor…” someone whispered.

The murmurs swelled, but the crowd hesitated, shrinking together as if unsure whether to approach or flee.

That was when Rey stepped forward, her voice clear and certain.

“We will give you what you need,” she said. “We can give you water.”

Her words cut through the silence like a breeze through parched leaves.

A few elders moved forward, eyes cautious but hopeful. One of them, a thin man with a grey beard and a walking stick, met Kylo Ren’s gaze.

“Our wells collapsed during the last dry season,” he said, voice cracked. “The ground is too shallow now.”

“We’ll need to dig new ones,” Kylo Ren replied. “And deeper this time.”

Rey nodded, thinking carefully.

“The water table must be too low,” she said. “This is what happens in Jakku too, when the rains don’t come.”

“It’s true, Your Majesty,” another elder agreed. “The water always dips at this time of year, but not like this. It hasn’t been this bad in generations.”

Kylo Ren looked out at the village again, at the cracked soil, the skeletal cattle, the eyes that searched his face for a future.

“We’ll leave engineers and supplies behind,” he said decisively. “And send for digging equipment from the palace. You’ll have water before the next moon.”

The villagers gasped. One woman clutched her hands to her chest and began to cry.

Rey turned to Kylo Ren, startled by the gravity in his voice.

“You’re serious?” she asked softly.

“I wouldn’t promise it otherwise,” he replied. Then, after a moment, added quietly, “My grandfather may have built marble for love, but I will build water for the living.”

Rey stared at him, unsure of what to say. And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel like she was standing beside a stranger.

“We’ll need to break through the rock,” Rey said, turning to Kylo Ren.

“But we don’t have the equipment for that!” one of the elders exclaimed. “We have no equipment at all, Your Majesty!”

Rey and Kylo Ren locked eyes. They didn’t need to speak.

Without a word, Rey reached around her neck and unclasped a delicate string of pearls. Kylo Ren reached up to unpin the heavy golden brooch from the scarf knotted at his throat.

Together, they handed their jewelry to General Hux.

“Ride until you reach the nearest trading town,” Kylo Ren instructed. “Exchange these for iron tools and two strong oxen.”

“What?” Hux sputtered. “But that could take days…”

“We have time,” Rey cut in, her voice cool and firm. “But these people don’t. So hurry.”

The Emperor and his wife stared him down, their eyes blazing with a rare unity. Hux hesitated for only a moment, then saluted briskly. He gathered three men, and without another word, spurred his horse and vanished over the burning dunes.

To everyone’s surprise, Hux returned early the next morning, dust-caked and exhausted, but triumphant. He had found a blacksmith in a nearby settlement willing to trade at dawn. Work began at once.

To the villagers’ amazement, the Emperor stripped off his gilded robes and belt and stepped forward to join the laborers. Rey caught his garments in her arms, folding them with the quiet satisfaction of a woman who sees her husband not as a ruler, but as a man she could one day respect.

And for five days straight, under the harsh sun, the digging continued. Rey worked alongside the village women, fetching water, soaking cloths, bringing dates and bread to the workers, and watching the well grow deeper and deeper.

When the men’s shovels struck rock, cheers rose like thunder. Kylo Ren’s soldiers clapped him on his sunburnt shoulders. He was grinning, grinning, like a boy who’d won a race, eyes sparkling with pride.

It took only hours to fracture the bedrock. When the water finally gushed upwards and began to fill the hollowed stone circle, the whole village erupted into celebration.

“It’s a miracle!” one of the elders cried, hands raised to the sky.

“Not a miracle,” Rey said, smiling through her sweat and dirt. “Just the hard work of your men.”

“Look at all that water!” the elder shouted, nearly weeping. Children were shrieking with joy, tipping buckets over their heads. A baby laughed as his sister rubbed the cool water over his back for the first time in weeks.

“This isn’t just hard work,” the elder insisted, turning to Rey. “You and the Emperor have brought the favor of the Gods with you.”

Rey lowered her eyes and whispered a short, silent prayer to her Goddess.

Then the chant began.

“All hail the Emperor! Long live the Emperor!”

And then, to Rey’s astonishment—

“All hail the Empress! All hail the Empress of Naboo!”

Rey froze. Her heart thundered in her chest.

Empress?

She had been called many things. Princess. Daughter. Wife. Runaway. But never this. Never… Empress.

She turned to Kylo Ren, her eyes searching his face for any reaction.

But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t scowl. He didn’t correct them.

He only watched the water rise, the sunlight flashing across his skin, and gave the faintest nod, almost as if he’d been waiting to hear those words spoken.

Ach To

The journey to Ach To was delayed by almost a week after the royal procession left the parched outskirts of Tatooine. Rey’s head was still buzzing, not just from the heat or the sudden transition in scenery, but from everything that had transpired in the desert village. Most of all, she couldn’t stop thinking about the Emperor.

The image returned to her again and again: Kylo Ren, his shoulders bronzed by the sun, handing over buckets of water with his robe discarded and his boots sunk into the cracked earth, smiling, not at his court or his soldiers, but at her.

It was not the first time Rey had done something good in her life. But this was the first time she had done it in harmony with a man she had once thought incapable of compassion. Something had shifted. And though Rey couldn’t yet name what it was, she knew she would not be the same.

Her thoughts occupied her until the moment they crossed into Ach To.

The sounds reached her first: the distant roar and hush of the ocean, steady as breath. She sat up straighter in the palanquin. A moment later, a gust of salty air slapped her cheek, and she let out a startled laugh. It was sharp and cold and clean and utterly unlike anything she had ever felt before.

Kylo Ren, riding ahead, turned at the sound. He saw her wide-eyed expression and reined in his horse.

“Get out of that thing,” he said, gesturing to the palanquin. “You’ll want a better view from up here.”

Rey hesitated for only a second. Then she stepped down, and with Kylo Ren’s hand to steady her, climbed up behind him.

The sea stretched before her, wild and grey, crashing into cliffs that rose like ancient sentinels from the deep. The path ahead of them wound through hills so green they looked like something out of a dream. Strange birds wheeled overhead, their sharp cries echoing across the stones. The air was cooler here, and carried a constant spray of salt that kissed her lips and stung her eyes.

If Naboo had enchanted her with its order and serenity, Ach To overwhelmed her with its fierce, untamed majesty. Here, nature ruled, not polished or manicured, but raw, windswept, and powerful. She felt small in the best way. Humbled. Awed.

Her eyes danced from moss-covered boulders to the churning coastline far below, and for a moment, she imagined clambering down from the horse and climbing one of the hills just to see how far she could see.

But she stayed where she was, seated behind Kylo Ren, arms loosely wrapped around him for balance, her heart full of questions.

And wonder.

“We used to come here a lot when I was little,” Kylo Ren said, his voice quieter than usual, as if the cliffs themselves demanded reverence.

“Oh really?” Rey asked softly. It surprised her, this glimpse into his childhood, offered without her even asking.

“There are a lot of caves down at the foot of these cliffs,” he continued, eyes scanning the wild coastline ahead. “I used to play hide and seek in them with my uncle.”

Rey turned toward him with a quiet smile. It was oddly easy to picture: a pale, black-haired little boy darting between rocks and sea spray, laughter swallowed by the crashing surf.

“Once, I hid in a pool of freezing water. Thought it was a brilliant idea,” he said, almost amused. “Came down with pneumonia so bad I nearly died. My mother didn’t leave my bedside for three days.”

Something shifted in his expression as he spoke. The amusement drained, replaced by something heavier. Guilt, perhaps. Or simply the weight of memory.

Rey didn’t push the moment further. That faint crack in his armor had come unexpectedly, and she didn’t want to scare it away. So they fell into silence again, riding side by side, the sea singing its endless song below them.

It wasn’t long before the stone steps came into view, weather-worn and ancient, they carved a narrow path up the steep hillside like a stairway to the clouds.

Kylo Ren pulled his horse to a halt, and the procession followed suit.

“I know where my uncle will be,” he called to his generals. “The Empress and I will join you shortly with him.”

He turned to Rey. There was no command in his voice this time, just a quiet invitation.

“Come,” he said.

And together, they began to climb, step by step, toward the temple that waited at the summit.

Luke Skywalker turned out to be just as Rey had imagined, and somehow, not at all.

On the outside, he was every bit the holy man the legends described. His grey robes were simple and worn with dignity. His long, weather-touched hair and beard framed a solemn face aged by wisdom and solitude. But it was his eyes that struck her most, piercing, ice-blue, and utterly unlike Leia’s soft brown gaze. It was difficult to believe they were twins. Nothing about them seemed alike.

Luke greeted his nephew with a kind of restrained warmth. He didn’t smile, not exactly, but there was a quiet light in his eyes, a recognition that went deeper than words. When those eyes turned to Rey, she felt them sweep over her like a breeze that stripped away all pretense. Curious. Measuring. Kind, yet unflinching.

As he was a senior royal, Rey instinctively bent into a bow, but Luke lifted a hand with an amused shake of his head.

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I gave up that life many years ago.”

“Uncle,” Kylo Ren said, his tone formal but steady. “My mother sends her love and some fresh supplies from Naboo.”

Luke’s mouth lifted slightly at the corners. “How is your mother?” he asked.

“She’s well,” Kylo Ren replied. “As you already know.”

“I hear you’ve been keeping a close eye on her,” Luke said mildly. “Or rather, you’ve asked Snoke to…”

Kylo cut in, his voice clipped. “We’re not here to discuss political matters, Uncle. This is a religious pilgrimage.”

Luke gave a soft hum of amusement. “Of course. Still, you’re late. And you look a little weather-beaten, Ben.”

Kylo’s jaw tightened, but just faintly. “I’ll tell you about our little adventure later,” he said.

Rey stood silently between them, caught in the subtle push and pull of their conversation. She could sense it now, Luke was testing him, gently but purposefully, the way a healer might press near a wound to see where it hurts.

Kylo finally turned to her and offered his arm. “I think my wife would like to see the living quarters,” he said pointedly. “And meet your handmaidens.”

Rey hesitated. She didn’t want to be dismissed just yet. There was something about Luke, something both familiar and foreign, that made her want to linger.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Master Luke,” she said over her shoulder as Kylo led her away. “I hope we can speak again soon.”

“As do I, Your Majesty,” Luke replied. His gaze followed her, not with suspicion, but with unmistakable interest.

There was something in that look that told Rey: he already knows more about me than I know myself.

Rey finally had the chance to see where Luke lived. The compound, nestled between jagged hills and overlooking the roaring sea, was a humble but graceful sprawl of low stone structures and windswept courtyards. Luke’s handmaidens moved about with quiet precision, dressed head to toe in unblemished white cloth. Despite spending their days outside tending to gardens, cleaning shrines, or drawing water from the cliffs, not a single speck of dust clung to their garments.

Rey tried to greet a few of them, but was only met with bows, curt nods, or murmurs in a language she couldn’t understand. Most barely glanced at her before continuing on with their duties.

Later that afternoon, restless and determined not to let her growing unease win, Rey set out to explore the terrain around the compound by herself. The cliffs were wild, green, and beautiful, but the paths were uneven, scattered with mossy stones and ancient boulders. It wasn’t long before she found herself out of breath, leaning wearily against a large, lichen-covered rock.

Or what she thought was a rock.

The boulder cracked slightly beneath her hands. Startled, Rey stumbled back.

But the real jolt came from the shrill, furious yell echoing down the path.

A handmaiden was storming toward her, white robes billowing, her eyes blazing. She seized Rey by the wrist, dragging her a few paces away from the crumbled stone and shouting rapid-fire sentences in her strange tongue. Her finger jabbed at Rey’s face in outrage.

“I think that was their sacred boulder,” came a voice from behind.

Rey spun around to find Kylo Ren leaning casually against another rock, an infuriating grin tugging at his lips.

“How was I supposed to know it was sacred?” Rey huffed, eyeing the jagged lump of granite she had apparently offended. “It looks like every other boulder on this island!”

Kylo tried to suppress a laugh but failed, snorting into his hand. The handmaiden turned her wrath on him now, barking something that made his smirk vanish instantly. He dropped his gaze like a child caught sneaking sweets before dinner.

“What’s going on over there?” came a low, bemused voice.

They both turned. Luke was standing a little distance away, hands folded behind his back, his expression one of weary patience, as though this wasn’t the first sacred boulder incident in his monastery.

“Nothing, really,” Rey said, forcing a sheepish smile.

The handmaiden swept past Luke without a word, still muttering and shaking her head as she disappeared into one of the stone huts.

Kylo jabbed a thumb at Rey.

“She started it,” he said flatly.

Rey’s mouth fell open. “Hey!”

Luke sighed, shaking his head as he began walking away.

“Oh, you two,” he muttered. “You’re going to be so much fun around here.”

That evening, Rey sat by the fire in the center of the compound, a heavy cloak wrapped around her shoulders. The nights in Ach To were bitter, colder even than the ones she remembered in Jakku or Naboo. The wind howled softly through the stone courtyards, and the fire’s warmth only just managed to reach her.

She saw Luke approaching and shifted slightly to make room beside her. A handmaiden followed close behind, carrying two cups of steaming soup. Rey accepted hers with a grateful nod.

They sipped in silence for a while, the fire crackling between them.

“Have you always lived alone?” Rey asked at last, her voice quiet but curious.

Luke smiled, eyes reflecting the flames. “I’ve chosen a life away from worldly distractions and comforts,” he said. “The silence keeps me honest.”

Rey glanced sideways at him, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “You’re the only man here, surrounded by all these women. Hasn’t temptation ever knocked on your door?”

Luke chuckled, the sound dry and knowing. “Fortunately, every one of these women has taken a vow. And unfortunately for me, none of those vows were in my favor.”

Rey laughed softly, then looked down into her cup.

“They don’t seem very welcoming,” she murmured.

“You didn’t exactly make the best first impression,” Luke said, lifting his brows. “But they’ll come around. They’re cautious with outsiders, especially ones who topple sacred rocks.”

Rey flushed and gave a rueful smile. “Right. The sacred boulder. How was I supposed to know?”

Luke only shrugged, still smiling.

A quiet pause followed. Then Rey asked, more carefully, “Leia said she wrote to you. What did she tell you about me?”

She didn’t meet his eyes at first, but when she finally looked up, Luke was already watching her, his gaze sharp, but kind.

“She told me you were brave,” he said slowly. “Strong-willed. Fiercely loyal. That you carry a lot, even when you don’t have to.”

Rey looked down again, her fingers tightening slightly around the warm clay cup.

“She said you’re trying to figure out where you fit. That sometimes you pretend to be harder than you are, because you think softness is weakness.”

Rey swallowed. “That sounds like her.”

“It does,” Luke agreed. “But she also said something else.”

Rey lifted her eyes.

“She said she believes you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to her son.”

Rey blinked, caught off guard by the softness in his voice.

Luke looked away toward the fire, and then up at the stars above them. “It’s not easy, you know. Being caught between two worlds. One you came from, and one you were never really prepared for.”

“I keep thinking if I leave, I’ll lose myself. But staying… feels like giving up something important too.”

“That feeling,” Luke said gently, “means you’re exactly where you need to be.”

Rey didn’t respond. She just stared into the fire, the flickering orange glow reflected in her eyes.

Luke rose slowly, brushing off his robes.

“Rest well tonight, Rey,” he said. “Tomorrow, your pilgrimage begins.”

“Pilgrimage?” Rey repeated, startled.

Luke didn’t answer right away. He started walking back toward the stone steps that led to his chambers, then paused.

“It won’t come with a map,” he said over his shoulder. “Just questions. The answers, you’ll have to find on your own.”

And then he was gone.

Rey sat still by the fire, her soup growing cold, her thoughts alive and unsettled.

She wasn’t sure whether she felt comforted… or just afraid.

“Oh,” Luke said, looking away with a faint smile. “A little of this, a little of that. Just enough.”

Rey found the answer evasive, but she hid her frustration behind her cup of soup.

“Leia thought it would help me to come here.”

Luke turned his piercing gaze on her.

“And why would she think you needed help?”

Rey hesitated. The words didn’t come easily.

“I don’t know…” she muttered. “I suppose I need help. I need a purpose.”

Luke studied her for a long moment before speaking again.

“Tell me, Rey of Jakku, what have you learned about yourself since arriving in Naboo?”

She swallowed hard. “That I am… hopeless. Powerless.”

“So,” Luke said, nodding slowly, “you’ve learned that you are hopeless and powerless. And what else?”

Rey drew in a shaky breath. “That I’m alone.”

“Hm.” Luke nodded, as though this didn’t surprise him. “We all come to that point, Rey. Powerless. Hopeless. Alone. But what matters is how we face it. Who we become in spite of it.”

Rey looked down at her hands.

“I can sense a great deal in you,” Luke continued. “You’re resourceful, cunning, compassionate. And a woman needs all of that to be a good Empress. If you truly wish to make a difference in this world… then God, or fate, or whatever force you believe in, has dealt you a powerful hand. You are in a position to do more good than any woman in this kingdom. Take it.”

Rey’s gaze flicked toward the fire. “I’m not an empress.”

“Think of what happened on the way here,” Luke said. “You and the Emperor saved a village. That wasn’t chance, Rey.”

“I’m glad I did it,” she whispered.

“There are millions more like them,” Luke said gently. “Han, Leia, and I once toppled an empire for people like that.”

Rey’s eyes sharpened.

“You expect me to topple the First Order?”

Luke hummed softly, eyes glinting but not meeting hers.

Rey sighed and shook her head.

“Next you’ll ask me to lasso the sun and hang the moon for you.”

“Anything is possible,” Luke said, still smiling.

Then his tone shifted, just enough to make her look up.

“If ever you need anything, you can write to me. And if there’s anything I should know, about my sister… about my nephew, for the good of the people, I trust you’ll tell me.”

Rey stilled, her expression unreadable.

“You can trust me, can’t you?” Luke asked, his eyes still gentle, his voice still soft.

She didn’t answer. But Luke only smiled wider, as if he didn’t need her to.

“Come,” he said, rising and offering her his hand. “Let’s find my nephew and see what kind of mischief he’s gotten himself into.”

Rey took his hand and stood, her mind racing. She could see through him now, clear as glass. He hadn’t said the words, but she knew exactly what he was asking: to keep watch on Kylo Ren… and to report back.

Now she understood why the Emperor mistrusted his uncle.

Luke wore his calm like a mask. Where Kylo Ren burned with emotion, Luke wrapped his coolness in charm and restraint. He seemed kind. Wise. Harmless.

But something told Rey he was anything but harmless.

Still, she couldn’t help being intrigued.

Chapter Text

Ach To

The next morning, Luke took Rey and Kylo Ren on a tour of the temple grounds.

Rey walked in quiet awe, marveling at the ancient stonework and the soaring rock formations that arched naturally above them. Sunlight filtered in through cracks in the ceiling, casting pale shafts of gold on the floor of the vast prayer hall.

“I had no idea nature could do all this,” Rey said, her voice echoing gently as she gestured around the chamber.

“The desert has many beauties too,” Luke replied with a knowing smile. “You just take them for granted, because you’ve seen them every day of your life. Rather like my view of this temple, I forget how remarkable it is.”

“Perhaps,” Rey chuckled, brushing her fingers along the weathered edge of a stone pillar.

Kylo Ren had drifted away from them and wandered the temple alone. He moved like someone retracing the steps of a dream, his pace slow and deliberate. Neither Luke nor Rey said much to him. He seemed lost in his own world, pausing now and then by a familiar ledge or outcropping.

“That thing… exactly where I left it,” Rey heard him mutter once, as he crouched near a pile of stones.

Rey wondered what memories lived here, what ghosts he might be chasing.

Eventually, they reached a quiet alcove deep within the temple. A raised altar stood at its center, flanked by candles and a small offering bowl. Upon the altar sat a weathered stone idol.

Rey paused in surprise. She had assumed Kylo Ren and his family didn’t believe in idol worship.

The figure was seated cross-legged, and its hands held a sword pointed upward, the blade perfectly bisecting its face. One half of the statue was painted in radiant white, the other in obsidian black.

“Is this your god?” Rey asked.

Luke smiled, his expression calm. “Oh no. That’s not a god. It’s a symbol, a representation of the good and evil that lives in all of us.”

“Ah,” Rey said, nodding slowly. “That’s the black and white.”

“We don’t worship the effigy,” Luke continued. “It’s only meant to remind us of our own humanity. The constant inner struggle. The choice.”

“I see.”

“But,” he added, “you may pray in front of it, if you wish—to whomever you wish. I’m tolerant of all faiths.”

Rey smiled. In truth, she did want to pray. It had been too long since she had felt in communion with her Goddess. And now, more than ever, she longed for that moment of stillness, of clarity.

Kylo Ren’s voice broke through the hush behind them.

“Princess,” he called, “that’s enough perusing. There are matters I must attend to, and I need you with me.”

Rey rolled her eyes. “Just a moment, Your Majesty,” she said pointedly. “I would like to pray.”

Luke arched a brow, watching her with interest, curious to see whether she would say what she was thinking.

“I…” she began, hesitating, “I was wondering if you’d join me.”

Kylo Ren frowned. “I don’t engage in idol worship, Princess.”

“It’s not idol worship, Your Majesty…” she countered softly, “Not unless you choose to see it that way.”

There was a pause. Then Kylo sighed, tired, maybe, or just yielding to her stubbornness.

“Oh, very well,” he muttered.

He walked over to join her at the foot of the altar, and together they stood, husband and wife, silent and still, preparing for prayer.

As Kylo Ren pressed his palms together and closed his eyes, Rey glanced sideways at him. She had never seen him pray before. But now, as she watched, something in his face shifted. The usual hardness dissolved. The scowl she’d grown used to fell away. In its place was calm, almost gentleness.

And then she noticed something else.

He prayed just as she did. Eyes closed. Hands together. Swaying ever so slightly, as though carried by a rhythm only he could hear.

Rey smiled, quietly, unconsciously, and closed her own eyes.

Behind them, Luke stood a little distance away, watching in silence. A faint smile touched his lips.

The hills of Ach To were quiet in the afternoon light, the wind rolling lazily through the grass. Rey reclined on the slope, her arms wrapped around her knees, still laughing as Kylo Ren attempted, unsuccessfully, to mount the wild horse that had wandered into their field.

He landed with a thud for the fourth time.

“You’ll break your royal back,” she called down, wiping a tear from her eye. “And I won’t carry you home.”

Kylo dusted himself off and glanced at her, amused, flushed, and breathless in a way she’d never seen before. For once, he looked young.

By the time the sun had begun to dip, Jess was clearing away the remains of their lunch. Kylo disappeared into their quarters and returned with a musket in hand and that familiar, aggravating glint in his eye.

“Get up, Princess,” he said, shrugging into his coat. “We’re going on an adventure.”

Rey raised an eyebrow. “What kind of adventure requires a gun?”

“Hunting,” he said. “There’s a trail through the northern pass. Game is plentiful. The air’s cold. You’ll love it.”

“Hunting?” Rey stood slowly, her smile vanishing. “You want me to watch you shoot wild animals for amusement?”

“It’s tradition,” Kylo said. “And sport.”

She stared at him. “Sport?”

He merely smiled. “You’ll come. I insist.”

Rey folded her arms. “You enjoy killing things, is that it?”

“I enjoy precision,” he replied smoothly. “Discipline. Stillness. Control.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And blood.”

Kylo stepped closer. “I wasn’t aware I needed your permission.”

“You don’t,” she snapped. “But you’re asking me to stand beside you while you kill something that never did you harm.”

He tilted his head. “Perhaps I wanted company.”

“You have generals for that.”

“But I want you,” he said, not kindly.

A gust of wind lifted her cloak. The sky had begun to darken, clouds creeping in from the west.

“It’s about to rain,” she said, her voice softer now. “We should stay.”

Kylo looked up at the sky, then back at her. His smile never faltered.

“Dress warmly,” he said, turning on his heel.

Rey stood rooted for a moment, staring after him.

She didn’t follow right away. But eventually, she did.

Not because she wanted to.

But because she wanted to see who he was when he thought no one was watching.

“Are you trying to ruin my day on purpose?” Rey asked, planting her hands on her hips.

“Never on purpose, Princess,” Kylo Ren said, slinging the musket over his shoulder with a smile far too pleased with itself.

She narrowed her eyes. “And what exactly are we hunting?”

“Deer. Rabbit. Whatever catches my fancy,” he said with a shrug, like he was choosing between wine or ale.

Rey gritted her teeth. She wanted to turn back, wrap herself in a blanket and stay by the fire. But the thought of him out there with a loaded weapon and a whim was worse.

“Fine,” she muttered. “Maybe I’ll manage to save a rabbit or two from your ‘fancy.’”

They must have been walking for hours before Kylo Ren finally decided it was time to stop. Rey, who had barely spoken for the last half hour, sank onto the nearest boulder with a sigh. Her legs ached from scrambling across uneven ground, so different from the soft sands of Jakku or the gentle flatlands of Naboo.

Kylo Ren seemed content, taking in the dramatic cliffs and wide skies as if he owned the wilderness itself. She, on the other hand, wasn’t enjoying the view nearly as much as he’d promised. Still, the ‘hunt’ had gone surprisingly well in her eyes, no animals in sight. Perhaps the Goddess was listening after all.

They stopped beside a narrow, bubbling stream. Kylo Ren dropped his musket on the grass without a thought and walked toward the water to splash his face.

Rey watched him for a moment, then glanced at the musket lying unattended. She wasn’t familiar with the weapon, an instrument of death she had no desire to understand. And yet…

An idea formed.

Cautiously, she leaned over and picked up the musket with the tips of her fingers. It was heavier than she expected, the cool metal unforgiving in her hands. Her pulse quickened. She found the lever Kylo Ren had used earlier and, mimicking his motions, opened the small chamber in the stock. Three brass bullets fell into her lap with a soft clink.

Her hands trembled only slightly as she slid the chamber shut and replaced the musket exactly where he had left it. The bullets felt heavier now, as if they knew they were no longer welcome.

As they crossed the stream a few minutes later, Rey let her hand drift open just above the water. The bullets slipped from her palm, tumbling silently into the current and vanishing beneath the flow.

She said a silent prayer, not for forgiveness, but for peace.

“How long are we going to wander around like this?” Rey groaned as they pushed through another tangled patch of undergrowth.

“As long as it takes,” Kylo Ren replied, brushing branches out of his way.

Rey let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s pointless!” she cried, breaking through the thick brush and stumbling into a small clearing.

Kylo Ren stopped abruptly. His body stiffened.

“What is it?” Rey asked.

He raised a hand, pointing silently.

Rey followed the line of his finger and gasped.

Tangled in the lower branches of a crooked tree, something small and orange writhed in the grass. Squinting, she broke into a delighted squeal and ran forward.

A tiger cub. No, three of them.

One was tumbling in the grass, and the other two were pawing playfully at a branch. Rey dropped to her knees, reaching out to brush her fingers against the silky black-and-orange coat. The cub purred and butted its head into her hand. The others squealed and crowded around, demanding their share of attention.

“They’re beautiful,” she breathed.

Kylo Ren, however, didn’t move.

“Be careful, Rey,” he said, voice low. “I think you should step away. Slowly. Now.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Rey replied, laughing. “They’re just babies!”

But even as she said it, a low, guttural growl vibrated through the air behind her.

Her blood turned to ice.

She slowly looked up at Kylo Ren, his face had gone pale, eyes locked on something just beyond her.

The growl came again. Closer. Louder.

Rey stood up slowly. Her limbs felt wooden, her heartbeat deafening. And then, she turned.

There, at the edge of the hedgerow, was a massive tigress. Muscles coiled beneath her striped coat, ears flat, fangs bared.

The cubs squealed and raced to her side. But the mother’s eyes didn’t follow them. They stayed locked on the strangers, predators who dared touch her young.

“Rey. Get behind me,” Kylo Ren hissed.

But she couldn’t move.

The tigress lowered her head, growling louder now. Her tail twitched.

Kylo Ren moved into position, shielding Rey with his body. He raised the musket.

He pulled the trigger.

Nothing.

Click.

Again. Still nothing.

Behind him, Rey let out a small, broken sound.

He glanced back, panic creeping into his expression.

“Rey,” he growled, “what did you do?”

“I—I didn’t mean to,” she stammered, “I didn’t know…”

The tigress snarled and began pawing the ground.

In one swift motion, Kylo Ren shoved Rey backwards. She stumbled and slammed into a large boulder behind them. Still dazed, she scanned the ground, mind racing. Then, there. A fallen branch. Long, thick, slightly splintered. She reached for it.

But it was too late.

The tigress pounced.

Rey screamed.

Kylo Ren surged forward at the same moment, his hands rising like iron shields. They collided with a deafening thud that echoed through the cliffs. The tigress snarled, disoriented for a moment as his fist slammed into her snout.

She recovered quickly.

They circled each other, beast and man, equally wild. The tigress bared her teeth and lunged. Kylo blocked with his forearm, but her claws tore through the sleeve of his coat. She twisted, leapt again, and this time sank her teeth into his shoulder.

He grunted in pain, staggering back.

Rey raised the branch.

And ran.

Kylo Ren cried out in pain. Rey screamed.

He slammed his fist once more into the tiger’s nose, forcing her to release his shoulder. Blood dripped from the bite, staining his robes, and he was beginning to slow. The beast swiped again, and this time, one razor-sharp claw tore across his face. A red gash split from his forehead to the opposite cheek, spilling blood into his eyes.

Still, he didn’t stop.

The tiger pounced again, and this time her powerful jaws clamped down on his leg.

There was a guttural scream as Kylo Ren collapsed beneath her weight.

Rey moved.

Snatching up the fallen branch, heavy and splintered, she sprinted forward.

“Hey!” she shouted, brandishing it. “Get away from him!”

Lightning cracked overhead, splitting the sky in white. Thunder roared behind it. The tigress paused, growled, and then, as if sated or simply bored, released Kylo Ren’s leg.

She turned.

A guttural sound escaped her throat as she called for her cubs. The little ones came bounding toward her, tails flicking playfully, unaware of the chaos they’d caused. Within moments, the family had vanished into the trees.

And the clearing fell eerily still.

Rey dropped the branch and fell to her knees beside him.

“Your Majesty!” she gasped, trembling hands reaching for his bloodied form. She struggled to lift him, dragging his limp body into her lap.

His face was a mess of blood and dirt. The gash along his cheek still bled freely, and a dark bruise had already begun to bloom beneath his eye.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, tears spilling freely now as she stroked his hair with shaking fingers. “This was all my fault.”

His breath was shallow. She leaned closer, her tears dripping onto his face.

Then, his eyes fluttered open.

He blinked through the blood, and Rey’s tear-streaked face came into view, her arms cradling him, her voice a broken whisper.

“Rey…” he rasped.

“I’m here,” she said quickly, tightening her arms around him. “You’re going to be okay. I swear it. I’ll get help.”

For a long moment, he simply looked at her, really looked and in his gaze was something she didn’t recognize.

Not fury. Not command. But something quieter. Clearer.

“Don’t… cry,” he murmured.

Rey let out a choked laugh through her tears.

“You stupid man,” she whispered, brushing blood from his brow. “Don’t you dare die.”

He smiled up at her, slowly, painfully.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” he groaned, voice slurred and bubbling with blood. “I’ll feel better after some wine.”

Rey frowned. She tore a clean corner of her shawl and gently wiped the blood from his lips. His skin was ice-cold.

He tried to speak again, but the words were slurred, disjointed. Delirium was setting in.

“I promised…” he croaked, then coughed violently, blood speckling his chin.

“Don’t speak,” Rey said quickly, her voice shaking. She pressed down on the wound in his shoulder. He winced, muscles seizing under her touch.

“I promised Mother I’d look after you,” he whispered.

Rey froze, her breath catching. Leia.

The thought of Leia finding out what had happened, what Rey had done, was unbearable. How would she ever forgive her?

She looked around, desperate. The dense woods offered no comfort, no help. Kylo Ren’s breathing was shallow, his body limp, drifting in and out of consciousness.

She had to stop the bleeding. She had to keep him awake.

Focusing, she pushed aside her rising panic and did what training had taught her: she tore strips from her skirt and shawl, binding his wounds tightly, creating pressure where she could. But the blood kept coming. Her mind raced with possibilities—

Bleeding. Infection. Scarring.

Death.

No. No, she wouldn’t let it happen.

Then, a flicker of color caught her eye through the brush, small yellow flowers swaying in the breeze.

Silverin bloom.

Thank the Goddess.

She touched Kylo Ren’s cheek gently, trying to rouse him. “Your Majesty,” she said softly. “I need to leave you for a moment.”

“No,” he moaned, his hand catching hers. “Don’t leave. Don’t go…”

“It’s only for a moment,” she said, her voice low and reassuring. “I promise I’ll be back.”

His eyes opened suddenly, wide and glassy. “Dad…?” he whispered, panicked. “Dad, come back…”

Rey’s heart cracked. She hesitated for only a second, then gently lowered his head to the ground, smoothing his hair from his face.

“I’ll be back,” she whispered. “Hold on.”

Then she turned and ran.

When Rey returned, her hands full of yarrow, Kylo Ren had rolled onto his side and was awake.

He said nothing as she set to work, crushing the leaves and flowers into a rough paste.

“This should help,” she murmured, “at least until I get you somewhere safe.”

Gently, she pulled his shirt down from his shoulders and dabbed the paste over the deep bite marks.

“Ahh!” Kylo Ren hissed.

“This will hurt,” Rey warned softly, “but it has to be done, Your Majesty.”

His lips curled into a slow, crooked smile.

“When I first saw you,” he groaned through clenched teeth, “I knew I had to make you mine.”

Rey froze, her hands stilling.

Now she was certain he was delirious.

“You’re so beautiful, Rey,” he whispered, reaching out a trembling, bloodied hand to stroke a curl at her neck.

Without hesitation, Rey slapped his hand away.

He groaned again, a mixture of pain and something like amusement in his voice.

Above them, the sky roiled in turmoil. The air grew colder, and a sharp wind whipped around them. A few raindrops splashed against Rey’s cheek as she glanced upward, dread settling deep in her chest. The daylight was fading faster than it should. This trip was unraveling, and if Kylo Ren died here, the weight of the Emperor’s death would rest squarely on her shoulders.

The consequences swirled through her mind like the gathering storm. The empire would fracture, leaving the First Order vulnerable to enemies waiting to strike. Yet even if the lands returned to their old rulers, the price for those who served Kylo Ren would be brutal. The women of the harem, branded as traitors and whores, would face fire and execution. And Dowager Queen Leia, the Emperor’s mother, would bear the harshest wrath of all.

And Rey herself?

No illusions remained. Surviving this ordeal unscathed was unlikely. If Kylo Ren lived, she would lose every freedom she had fought for, every shred of power as his wife. But if he died and the Order crumbled, she’d be hunted as a traitor, either by the provincial kings or by loyalists seeking vengeance.

There was no time for fear or doubt now.

Her only focus was clear, get Kylo Ren out of the rain, and keep him alive.

Chapter Text

Ach To

The rain gave Rey some relief after about half an hour. Her limbs ached, her fingers were raw, and every movement felt like fire.

It had taken all her strength to haul Kylo Ren’s heavy body to the foot of a tall tree, beneath the broad shelter of its canopy. The downpour had finally washed away most of the blood caked on his face, leaving behind the angry red scar slashed diagonally across his pale skin.

Rey had gotten him through the worst part. He was no longer bleeding heavily. He was conscious, barely. The earth beneath them had turned into a thick soup of cold, sticky mud, and both their clothes were soaked and stained. But that didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Not when his life still hung by a thread.

She leaned against the tree, exhausted, cradling Kylo’s head on her lap. One arm lay draped protectively across his chest, as if her embrace could somehow anchor him to this world.

Another crack of lightning tore the sky in half, illuminating the canopy in ghostly white light. Kylo stirred beneath her arm.

“Save your strength, Your Majesty,” she murmured gently, brushing his hair away from his damp forehead.

“Rey…” he groaned, his eyes fluttering open. “Will I die?”

“No,” she said, swallowing the tightness in her throat. “I won’t let that happen.”

“I always thought I’d go in battle. Like a soldier. Not like this…”

“You’re not dying,” Rey said, her voice sharp with panic.

Kylo coughed and winced. “Tell my mother… tell my wives… I died bravely…”

“I will,” Rey whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. He reached up to wipe it away, his hand trembling, but she didn’t push him away this time.

“I only wanted to protect you,” he breathed.

A gust of wind whipped around them, and Rey instinctively pulled his body closer to her.

“And I never imagined this day would come,” he said, his voice fading, “when you would shed tears for me…”

Rey smiled through her tears, in spite of herself. “Me neither.”

Another flash of lightning lit the sky, revealing the shadows of branches above them, like skeletal arms clawing across the sky.

Suddenly, Kylo groaned again, scrunching his face in pain. His voice cracked.

“Who will protect my mother… my wives… when I’m gone?”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Rey said, her voice trembling now. “Don’t fret, Your Majesty.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No,” she said, her jaw tightening. “It’s I who should be sorry. I thought I was protecting the innocent… but I put us both in danger.”

Kylo groaned, eyes fluttering closed. Rey bent down in alarm, watching the rise and fall of his chest. He had fallen asleep in her arms. Her hands trembled as she checked his pulse.

He was still alive.

She exhaled shakily, pressing her forehead to his. The rain kept falling, steady and cold. She tilted her head and screamed for help until her voice grew hoarse, but the storm swallowed every word. Her limbs were growing numb and her eyes heavy. Just for a moment, she told herself. Just one moment of rest.

But it was Kylo Ren’s stirring that woke her.

Through the mist of rain, Rey spotted flickering lights in the distance, small dots of gold bobbing through the trees. At first, she thought she was hallucinating. But the lights were real. They were moving closer.

She blinked hard. Luke’s pale face swam into view, half-shadowed by the rain and the flickering torches around him.

“Rey!”

Even his voice sounded far away, as if he were calling to her through water.

Other voices joined his.

“What happened?”

“By the gods, it’s the Emperor!”

“Get him to the temple—NOW!”

Figures surged toward her. Torches, cloaks, hands. She felt the weight of Kylo’s head being lifted gently from her lap. Someone else caught her by the shoulders.

“Rey,” Luke said again, crouching in front of her, his eyes searching hers. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright. You’re safe now.”

Strong arms pulled her upright. Her knees buckled and she sagged into Luke’s chest.

“I’ve got her!” he called out. “She’ll ride with me. Take the Emperor ahead, get him to the healers!”

More shouting, more shadows.

She could barely register the movement. The warmth of Luke’s cloak enveloped her. Someone spoke to her, but she couldn’t understand the words. It was all a blur. She only felt the sway of the horse beneath her, the steady thudding of hooves against wet earth, the wind on her face.

And the cold absence of Kylo Ren’s warmth.

They reached the temple long after nightfall.

Inside, the scent of cinnamon and dried herbs surrounded her. Rey felt the wet fabric of her clothes being peeled away, handmaidens murmuring softly as they tried to warm her limbs. But all she could think about was the Emperor.

“Where’s the Emperor?” she rasped. Her voice was barely a whisper, but it stilled the room.

No one answered.

She tried to rise, but her legs gave out. The handmaidens caught her, coaxing her back down.

She lay still for a while, staring at the flickering shadows on the ceiling. Her teeth chattered from the cold.

Then the door burst open.

A breathless girl from the temple staff rushed in.

“He’s calling for her!” she cried. “The Emperor, he’s awake. He’s delirious, burning with fever, and he keeps asking for the Empress!”

Without another word, Rey rose to her feet, heedless of the pain in her body.

“I have to go to him,” she said.

The hall outside the infirmary was quiet, save for the patter of distant rain and the hurried footsteps of the young servant girl guiding Rey through the corridors. The torches along the walls cast flickering shadows, and the scent of smoke, incense, and damp earth clung to the air.

Rey’s feet were bare. Her still-damp hair clung to the sides of her pale face. But she moved quickly, her shawl clutched around her shoulders, heart pounding as they turned the last corner.

The door to the infirmary opened with a creak.

Inside, it was dimly lit. Warm. Still. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting golden light over the room. A few handmaidens were quietly folding cloths or steeping herbs in bowls of steaming water. But Rey’s eyes went instantly to the cot at the far end of the room.

Kylo Ren lay still, too still, under layers of blankets. His dark hair was damp, plastered to his forehead, and his skin was far too pale. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. One of his arms was unwrapped and hung limply over the edge of the bed. The scar on his face had darkened and spread in angry red lines across his temple.

“Leave us,” Rey said quietly.

The handmaidens hesitated but obeyed.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Rey walked forward, her hand trembling slightly as she reached for a damp cloth from the basin. She sat beside him and wiped the sweat from his brow. He flinched slightly at her touch, but didn’t open his eyes.

“You’re safe,” she whispered. “You’re back.”

He stirred.

“Rey…” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Rey, don’t go…”

“I’m here,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His lips moved again, but the words were slurred. She leaned in closer.

“I didn’t mean… for you to see me like this…”

Rey pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. He was burning. Too hot.

“Stop talking,” she said, her voice gentler now. “You’ve done enough for one day.”

He turned his face toward her voice, his eyes barely open. “Thought… I’d be brave… but it hurts.”

A laugh caught in Rey’s throat, sharp and wet. “Of course it hurts, you fought a tiger.”

He tried to smile, but it twisted into a wince.

Rey dipped the cloth back into the cool water and pressed it to the side of his neck, watching as he relaxed slightly beneath her hand. She brushed a lock of damp hair back from his forehead and whispered,

“You should rest.”

“I tried to protect you,” he whispered again. “Told my mother I would.”

“You did,” she said. “You protected me.”

His brows knit together. His breathing grew uneven again, and Rey leaned in, cupping his cheek with her hand.

She whispered, “you’re alright. Just breathe.”

A long silence followed. The fire popped and cracked. Outside, the rain was beginning to ease.

Kylo Ren’s breathing steadied. His hand, heavy and warm, found hers under the blanket. She didn’t pull away.

“You’re going to live,” she said softly, watching his sleeping face. “And when you wake up, I’m going to yell at you. For being so reckless. For dragging me out into the rain. For almost dying. And then I’ll apologize for…”

Her voice cracked again. “But for now, just…stay. Please.”

Rey stayed beside him through the rest of the night. She changed the cloths, tended to his bandages, and cooled his fever with herbs that Luke’s handmaidens passed her quietly through the door.

At some point, she dozed off with her head resting near his shoulder, still holding his hand.

The morning was slow to arrive. A pale, grey light seeped through the slats of the window shutters, and outside, the rain had softened to a faint mist. The fire in the infirmary had dwindled to embers.

Rey shifted slightly, her back sore from leaning awkwardly against the edge of the cot. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but sometime after midnight, exhaustion had claimed her. Her hand was still curled loosely in Kylo Ren’s.

She stirred when she felt him move.

“Rey…” he croaked.

Her eyes snapped open.

He was awake, barely, but his eyes were open, blinking slowly at the ceiling. His lips were cracked, his face pale, and the scar across his forehead had turned a dark red, but there was recognition in his eyes now. He was present.

She sat upright at once, her hands flying to his face.

“You made it through the night.” Rey croaked.

“You threw away my bullets,” he murmured.

Rey stared at him, horrified. “You remember that?”

His brows furrowed. “You cried.”

Rey looked down, flustered. “You were bleeding out. I was afraid…”

A silence followed. Rey looked down at their hands, still loosely entwined.

“You shouldn’t have fought that tiger,” she said finally, her voice low and soft. “You could’ve died.”

Kylo Ren’s eyes lingered on her face for a long moment. The faint mist outside softened the light in the room, making her look impossibly gentle. For a brief second, something in him wavered.

“I was protecting you,” he said at last.

Rey nodded, her throat tight. “I know.”

Silence returned. The embers in the hearth crackled faintly. Kylo pulled his fingers from Rey’s grasp, shifted his arm and winced, but didn’t complain.

Rey reached forward to adjust the bandages on his shoulder.

He flinched. Drawing away from her.

She pulled back immediately, hurt flickering across her face, briefly.

“You threw away my bullets,” he said again, not accusing, not cold, just… tired.

Rey stared at the edge of the cot. “I did.”

He waited, but she didn’t try to explain herself.

Phasma’s voice echoed in his head, cruel and matter-of-fact.

She wants you dead.

He closed his eyes.

“You could’ve told me,” he said quietly.

Rey’s jaw tensed. “And what would I have said? That I didn’t want you to shoot a deer? That I thought I could outsmart a man who’s lived in war since he was a boy? You wouldn’t have listened.”

“No,” Kylo said softly, “I wouldn’t have.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak.

“I don’t know what you were trying to prove. But it nearly got us both killed.”

Rey looked down at her hands. “I know.”

The silence between them stretched until it began to ache. The fire sputtered faintly, and the cold of the morning began to creep back into the room.

Kylo turned his head away from her.

“I want you to leave.”

Rey didn’t react at first. She blinked slowly, taking in the meaning of his words. Then she stood, with a quiet sadness that seemed to hang over her like fog.

He didn’t look at her.

Rey stood beside the cot for a moment longer, as if trying to memorize the sight of him. His face was pale, the red line of the scar raw across his brow. He looked more like a boy now than a king.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

And then she turned and walked away.

Chapter Text

Ach To

“What in heaven’s name are you doing?”

Jess’s voice rang out across the slope, sharp and unmistakably irritated.

She stood with her hands planted firmly on her hips, her slippers anchored on the edge of the rocky incline. Her eyes glued to the absurd sight below: Rey, crouched awkwardly in the middle of a thicket, her head and shoulders swallowed up by a stubborn nettled bush.

She hardly heard Jess. She was too focused on pulling free a gnarled root, her shredded sleeves rolled up past her elbows. Her arms were covered in scratches, her fingers scraped and bruised, the skin raw from clawing at bark, rock, and thorn.

It had been a week of this.

A week of poultices and salves. A week of crawling through underbrush like a woman possessed and digging through Ach To’s dense, rocky soil.  

A week of silence from the Emperor.

The wind shifted slightly, carrying with it the briny scent of the sea below and the faint perfume of crushed herb leaves. Jess picked her way down the slope, careful not to trip on the loose stones, and stopped a few feet from where Rey had set up what looked like a makeshift medicine station out in the open.

It was a rough setup, but thorough and neat. A flat grinding stone balanced atop a tree stump, clay pots lined up like soldiers in a row, filled with tinctures and bitter-smelling liquids that Rey used to wash her hands. Strips of clean linen and gauze lay soaking in another bowl of boiled water. Twine and bandages sat wrapped neatly to the side, anchored by a heavy book that looked suspiciously like one from Luke’s temple shelves.

Rey had now moved out of the thicket and was working at the grinding stone, the pestle moving in quick, practiced strokes as she crushed leaves into a thick paste. Her jaw was clenched, her face expressionless. 

It was as if she hadn’t noticed her friend at all. 

“I asked you a question,” Jess said, more gently this time. “You look like you’ve been in a fight with a briar patch.”

“I have,” Rey replied without looking up. “And the briar patch is winning.”

Jess crouched beside her, watching the herb paste take shape in the stone basin. 

“Still no word from him?”

Rey shook her head once. “Only the physician goes in. His guard and General Hux stand outside like watchdogs. I don’t think they’d let me in even if I tried.”

“But he’s using these?” Jess asked, nodding toward the half finished poultice, lying on a silver tray.

“Yes,” Rey said quietly. “I make sure the physician uses them. I check the linen every morning. The wounds are healing.”

“And the physician lets you check the Emperor’s bandages?”

“Of course he lets me check,” Rey snapped, not looking up from the grinding stone.

Jess raised her brows, watching her closely. “You didn’t threaten him, did you?”

Rey’s lips twitched, just barely. “He needed a little convincing.”

Jess gave a soft, dry laugh. “Well. That’s something.”

For the next few moments, the only sound was the rhythmic grinding of stone against stone.

The paste was dark now, thick and clotted, smelling faintly of smoke and crushed iron. It looked more like a war remedy than a healing one, and maybe that was fitting. Everything about this place felt like it was held together with pain and grit. 

Jess hadn’t warmed to Ach-To. 

It was too wild, too damp, too quiet. All the green in the world couldn’t make up for how cold and shadowed it felt beneath the trees and rocky cliffs. It was the kind of place that swallowed warmth. 

And it was swallowing Rey. 

Jess could feel it. Like the island itself had reached up from its rocky cliffs and wrapped itself around her friend, pulling her deeper into something wordless and wild. Something Jess couldn’t follow.

She watched Rey now, hunched over the grinding stone with her sea-tangled hair, fingers moving with careful intent. There was a hush about her that hadn’t been there before. Not rage. Something quieter. Jess couldn’t name it, but she didn’t like it.

It was as if Rey had grown roots overnight. As if she was becoming part of this place. And Jess couldn’t shake the awful sense that this new version of her friend wasn’t trying to find her way back anymore.

Or was it something else entirely?

What had really happened that evening when she and the Emperor had gone out to hunt?

Jess shifted slightly on her haunches, folding her arms tighter against the wind. She had seen Rey defiant, furious, and proud. But this, this woman with the soft eyes and bloody hands, who wouldn’t stop talking about bandage changes and fevers breaking, she was a little different.

The longer they stayed, the stranger Rey became. Jess found herself hoping the Emperor made a swift recovery. The sooner he was well, the sooner they could leave this place. 

She tilted her head toward the sky, her voice soft now, as if worried the wind might carry it to the wrong ears. “It’s a wonder the Lightning God didn’t strike him down. Charging at a tiger with nothing but his fists. The man must have been born under a cursed star!”

Rey’s hand faltered for just a second, then resumed its movement.

“He wasn’t thinking,” she said, voice quiet but firm. “He saw danger, and he stood between it and me.”

“And yet,” Jess said, watching her, “he won’t talk to you.”

“No,” Rey replied, her eyes fixed on the mixture. “He won’t.”

Jess sighed and sat back on her heels. “So what now? You’ll keep making cures for a man who won’t even see you?”

Rey looked up then. Her face was tired, but beneath the tired, dark rimmed eyes was a fire, steady and burning.

“The first lesson I ever learned from Healer Dunrik,” she said, “was to lay aside all feeling when tending to the wounded. No matter who they are. No matter what they’ve done to you.”

Jess gave a sharp exhale and rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know that lesson.” 

“Remember when there was a coup in the palace?” Rey went on, her voice distant. “That commoner broke into my father’s chambers, tried to kill him, and ended up injuring himself instead?”

She was now stirring the herb paste with slow, deliberate strokes.

“I remember that day,” Jess said gravely.

“I went in with the palace healers to treat him,” Rey continued. “He spat at my feet and called me a royal leech, but I stitched him up anyway.”

Jess gave a dry snort. “I still think you should’ve let that one bleed out.”

Rey didn’t return it. “No one dies in my care,” she said firmly. “Not a commoner. Not the Emperor.”

Jess’s expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. “Would that really be such a terrible thing, though?”

When Rey didn’t answer, Jess huffed and sat back, brushing her hands on her skirts with a touch too much force. She studied her in silence, then reached over and pulled a small splinter from Rey’s wrist.

“Well, you’re a better woman than me. I would have just let him die.”

Still, silence.

“At first when I heard, I thought maybe it was you that attacked him…”

Rey slammed the pestle down on the ground, raising her stained hands to clutch her face and letting out a wail. 

Jess watched a moment, frozen and horrified, then threw her arms around her best friend, whose body was now heaving with great sobs.

For a while, there was only the sound of Rey’s anguish and the rustling of the trees above. Jess held her tightly, her own chest aching at the rawness of it all. She’d seen Rey cry before, but never like this, like the grief had no end, like it was breaking her from the inside out.

Eventually, her sobs began to slow. She pulled away, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, her breath still catching.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” she whispered, her voice thick and small. “I only wanted to…I’m so…”

Jess didn’t reply. There was nothing she could say.

“I feel so…” It was as if Rey had forgotten the words to her own language. “I want to go home, but I don’t want to leave either!”

Jess gently pushed her back, gripping her shoulders and searching her face.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, frowning, thinking of Jakku. “Of course you want to go home. We will go home.”

Rey’s hazel eyes, glistening with tears, didn’t meet Jess’s dark brown ones as she turned her attention back to the herb paste.

“If I don’t get this ready soon, it’ll dry up,” she muttered, her voice still hoarse. She wiped at her face with the back of her wrist and plunged her hands into the clean water bowl. 

Her movements were steady but tired. She pressed the finished paste into small linen wraps, her fingers working with the precision of someone who had done this a hundred times. One by one, she placed the bundles onto a silver tray. Once the last was laid down, she drew a clean linen sheet over them, tucking in the edges. 

“Here, let me help…” Jess pushed herself up stretching out a hand to take the tray.

“No, I’ll take this myself” Rey shook her head “You stay here and keep the fire going. This water needs to be kept at a boil.”

Jess hesitated, watching Rey with worried eyes as she walked toward the path leading to the temple infirmary, her feet squelching faintly in the wet earth. 

Behind them, the sky began to clear. A single shaft of sunlight cut through the thinning clouds and fell across the temple stones.

When Rey reached the door to Kylo Ren’s chambers, she noticed it was slightly ajar. A draft slipped out from within, carrying the warmth from the fireplace and the familiar sharp tang of her poultices. She hesitated. Her hand hovered near the frame, but instead of pushing the door open, she leaned in, one eye peeking through the narrow gap.

Inside, General Hux’s low voice carried toward her.

“Gathering intelligence on Coruscant is proving more difficult than we initially expected,” he said crisply.

Rey held her breath as her eyes adjusted to the dim light spilling through the narrow gap. The curtains had been partially drawn, casting the room in a golden haze. 

Then she saw him. 

Kylo Ren lay propped against a mound of silk-covered pillows, bare-chested. His skin was bloodless beneath the flicker of firelight, the shape of his torso broken by thick bandages wrapped tightly around his shoulder and ribs. One half of his face was swathed in gauze; the other was pale, bruised, his eye closed, his mouth drawn tight against the pain.

A part of her wanted to go to him. To cross the threshold, to brush the hair from his brow, to see for herself that he was truly alive. That the rise and fall of his chest meant something more than just survival. Deep down, she longed to hear him say her name. To know that she was truly needed, that he wanted her near. And she hated that feeling, hated how much power it had over her.

But her feet remained rooted to the floor.

She had come as a healer. Not a wife. Not a woman nursing hope where there should be none.

Inside, Hux’s voice dropped lower, but she strained to catch every word. He stood near the bedside with another officer, arms folded behind his back, his expression severe but quiet. A physician hovered in the corner, scribbling something onto a tablet. 

“We need to declare War on the Mid Rim now. Their envoy has not responded to our request for their surrender. I suspect they’re waiting for confirmation of your condition… or your death.”

There was a pause. Kylo Ren’s voice came at last, ragged, low, but unmistakably clear.

“Then let them wait. I won’t be paraded like a wounded beast.”

“But it would reassure the other provinces,” Hux pressed. “Even a brief appearance…”

“No.”

The word was a stone, sharp and final.

“And the Princess?” Hux asked, casually, as if discussing strategy.

Rey flinched, her heart twisting in her chest.

There was a stretch of silence. She couldn’t see Kylo Ren’s face anymore from the angle she stood, but she imagined his eyes were still closed. She imagined he looked as worn down as she felt.

Hux pressed on “Shall I arrange for her to be sent back to Naboo with an escort?” 

Rey’s breath caught.

Kylo’s answer, when it came, was quieter.

“The Princess will travel with me when I am well enough.”

“Very well…” Hux said. “Shall I send word to the palace?”

“Yes.”

“And I shall also inform General Snoke…”

“Enough,” Kylo groaned, raising a weakened hand. “I don’t want to discuss this now.”

“General,” the physician interjected gently, “the Emperor mustn’t exert himself.” 

Hux inclined his head.

“As you wish,” he said levelly, turning on his heel.

Rey turned from the door, her heart pounding in her ears, just as General Hux and the officer accompanying him stepped out of the Emperor’s chambers. The wooden door creaked slightly on its hinges, and both men paused, taken aback at the sight of her.

Rey straightened at once, tucking a stray strand of damp hair behind her ear. Her robes were wrinkled and stained with herb paste; her bare feet caked in the mud of Ahch-To’s hills. She looked every inch the field medic she had been for weeks now, far from the imperial bride Hux had first seen in the Unknown Regions.

General Hux’s gaze swept over her from head to toe, slow and deliberate. The corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smirk, disdain etched in his face.

“Your Highness,” he hissed, dipping his head in a mock bow. “You look…industrious.”

Rey didn’t flinch. “General.”

The officer beside him gave her a quick, respectful nod and disappeared out of the but, but Hux lingered. There was something in his expression, something that made Rey’s skin prickle. Amusement and contempt yes, but also something else.

“Still playing nursemaid, I see,” he added, glancing toward the chamber door.

“Since I must stay here until the Emperor’s recovery, I may as well be of some use.” Rey said.

“How noble of you,” Hux replied, “I’m sure His Majesty finds comfort in such…loyalty.”

Rey met his eyes, steady and unyielding. “We must all play our part, General.”

“Of course,” Hux said smoothly. “Though I still wonder what part you played in the Emperor’s current…predicament.”

As he spoke he took a step closer, his darkened eyes peering into hers. 

The words lingered in the air for a while. Rey didn’t dare blink. She wanted to hold his gaze, challenging and defiant. 

“I’m sure His Majesty has already told you of his act of bravery,” Rey said, smiling, sweet and deliberate. “It’s a gripping tale. Fit for the history books.”

Hux stepped back with a polite nod.

“Indeed it is.”

Rey reached for the door handle.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to deliver this poultice to the Emperor…”

Hux raised a finger in protest.

“Ah-ah,” he said softly. “I’m afraid I cannot let you enter, Your Highness.”

“By whose authority?” Rey asked, her voice tightening.

“The Emperor’s own. You may give that to me, and I shall see that it reaches him.”

“Can I not see him?”

“He is not receiving visitors. Physician’s orders. He must rest.”

“But, I am not a visitor, I am his wife…”

“Only in name, Princess. Or have we forgotten the terms of your arrangement?” Hux remarked with ever precise condescension.

If it had been any other day, Rey would have protested. She would have pushed past the guards, broken down the door if she had to. She would have raised her voice loud enough to echo through the temple halls. 

But today, she was tired.

Tired of fighting.

And when she thought of Kylo Ren, of his pale face, his ragged breathing, the way his body had slumped in her arms, bloodied and still, her anger faded, leaving only a bone-deep ache.

Silently, she held out the tray.

“Here,” she said, her voice low. “Give this to the physician. Make sure the bandages are changed immediately.”

Hux accepted the tray with a nod. “Of course.”

He didn’t enter the chamber until Rey had turned away and left the hut.

And Rey didn’t look back.

Rey had advised the physician that the Emperor’s chamber needed to be aired out regularly, and that now, with his strength slowly returning, it was time he had a bit of fresh air. 

The physician had agreed without protest. He liked Rey. He respected her calm authority and her sharp knowledge of healing and there was no denying her skill, nor the command with which she gave her counsel.

He was impressed, too, by how she carried herself, never deferential, never overstepping, and yet somehow always right. He had seen nobles shout orders without understanding the simplest remedies. But Rey moved with confidence. 

And though no one said it aloud, it was becoming clear, at least within the quiet walls of the infirmary, that the Emperor was still breathing, in no small part, because of her.

“Bring him out at sunset,” she had said gently. “The light will be soft by then and the wind will have settled. It won’t be too hot or too cold.”

The sun was low by the time the physician gave his nod. Two guards stepped forward to assist the Emperor into the courtyard. He moved slowly, stiffly, every motion threaded with pain. He said nothing, his jaw clenched, but his eyes darted around as if taking  in the world for the first time.

Rey watched from across the threshold, half-hidden behind one of the carved wooden beams of the infirmary. She had not been summoned, but she came anyway and no one stopped her.

Though she kept her distance, her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the beam. 

The physician offered a few quiet words of reassurance as they guided Kylo Ren to the doorway. For the first time in over a week, he stepped beyond the gloom of his chamber and into the evening light.

His eyes adjusted slowly. His breath caught in his throat.

And then, as if sensing her presence, his gaze found her.

Their eyes met. Across the widening distance, something passed between them. Fragile. Raw. Reckless.

A sudden breeze swept through the courtyard and Rey’s shawl slipped past her shoulders, the fabric falling in soft folds around her elbows. His eyes followed the movement and settled on a deep cut across her upper arm, fresh, red at the edges. It had been hidden until now. She had gotten it while gathering flowers near the ridge, after tripping on a loose stone and tumbling into a thorny bush. Tripping had become a frequent occurrence for her these past few weeks, but this time, she’d been particularly unlucky and the cut was a little deep. 

For a moment, his mask of indifference slipped. There was alarm in his face. Concern. 

But just as quickly, his eyes flicked past her, indifferent and unfocused. 

Rey straightened, the heat rising to her cheeks. She turned and walked away before the bitterness could catch up to her.

Let him have the light, she thought. Let him have the air.

She would return to the shadows. To her poultices and pastes. To the only part of this crumbling place where her hands still had some purpose.

Rey enjoyed a happy evening that day.

Jess had invited Poe and Finn to join them for supper, and their usually quiet chamber had come alive with laughter and easy conversation. Poe had even brought a gold flask of spiced wine, which he cheekily poured into their tea, while Finn, charming as ever, brought a flute and played a few cheerful tunes by the hearth. The air was filled with the delicious scent of freshly baked pastries, mingling with the comforting aroma of warm tea and the warmth of light-hearted fun.

Rey had eaten her fill and was now resting on a cushioned recliner near the window, legs tucked beneath a blanket, eyes half-lidded with contented fatigue. She and Jess burst into laughter as Poe playfully snatched the flute from Finn and raised it to his lips. He puffed his cheeks, blowing once and producing a pitiful, off-key squeak, then doubling down with a second attempt that was somehow even worse.

Finn threw up his hands in mock despair.

“Blasphemy!” he declared.

Jess was laughing so hard she nearly spilled her tea. As the night continued, she continued to pour more tea, the steam from their cups rising upward in delicate tendrils. 

“Don’t forget to put in a drop of the elixir of the gods, Your Highness!” Poe called as he threw the gold flask at Rey, who caught it with both hands. 

“I have to admit,” He continued, “as much as this trip’s been an adventure, I’ll be glad when we finally see the back of this place.”

“Hear, hear!” Jess raised her goblet with a grin, sloshing a little of the spiced tea in the process.

“Now that the Emperor’s up and walking, I think we can leave before the week is out,” Finn said, leaning back with a hopeful sigh.

All eyes turned to Rey. The decision, ultimately, was hers.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a sudden knock shattered the calm, sharp and unexpected against the wooden door.

Finn shot up to answer it.

Standing in the doorway was the Emperor’s physician, cloaked in his formal robes and clutching a medicine bag.

“Your Highness,” he said with a deep bow of respect, taking in the bright surroundings.

Rey blinked at him, startled. “Yes?”

Beside her, Jess straightened, exchanging a wary glance with her friend.

“I’m certainly surprised to see your here at this hour, sir,” Rey rose awkwardly in greeting, still clutching her goblet. 

“The Emperor commanded me to come see you,” the physician continued. His voice was even, but his eyes flicked briefly to Rey’s bandaged arm. “He insisted I attend to the Princess’s injury and… see to her wellbeing.”

“My wellbeing?” Rey echoed, her eyes wide, voice rising slightly. “Well, I am doing very well, as you can see.” She gestured with one hand, a little too broadly, nearly sloshing the contents from her cup.

“I…see that” the physician gave a slight smile. “The Emperor was concerned about an injury he might have seen on your arm, this evening.”

“My…” Rey looked down at her bandaged arm, her fingers brushing against the linen wrap as if seeing it for the first time.

“There’s no need for that,” Jess said sharply, rising to her feet. Her voice held a hard edge. “I’m taking care of her.”

The physician hesitated for only a second, then bowed again, this time to both of them.

“I understand, my lady,” he said. “And I am very familiar with your healing talents. But the Emperor was most insistent.”

At that, Rey looked up, a flicker of something passing across her face. Surprise. Confusion. And something deeper, harder to name. 

“Well, go on, then,” she said quietly. “If he was insistent, it would be rude to refuse.”

Jess didn’t move. She watched Rey carefully as the physician came forward, his satchel of supplies clinking softly as he walked.

“Tell me,” Rey said, her voice sharper than she intended, “how is he?”

The physician hesitated. “He is recovering well, Princess,” he said with a kind of tired formality. “He is still in a fragile state. There is fever, disorientation…he asks for little, says less. But he is recovering.”

The physician unwrapped Rey’s bandage with practiced care, his fingers cool and methodical. The cut was healing, though faintly inflamed around the edges.

“You’ve been keeping it clean,” he murmured. “That’s very good.”

“It’s only a small cut…”

He rewrapped the linen, a bit tighter this time. “Even small wounds can fester.”

When he was done, Rey pulled down her sleeve and grinned at the physician. “Satisfied?”

“I believe the Emperor can expect a favorable report.” He looked quietly pleased.

Rey nearly snorted her drink. “You’re going to report to him about a harmless cut on my arm?”

“Yes,” he replied without missing a beat. “And I don’t believe you need any advice on wound treatment. You know what to do.”

He rose, dusting off his robes with quiet dignity and reached for his bag.

“And one more thing, Your Highness,” he added, pausing at the doorway and glancing over his shoulder with a faint, knowing smile.

“Perhaps go easy on the wine.”

He stepped out into the cool night air, and Poe and Jess followed him silently, the chamber door falling shut behind them.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Poe asked under his breath, eyes fixed on the physician’s retreating figure as he disappeared into the shadows.

“What?”

He turned, his gaze dark and steady.

“Things are about to get more complicated for us.”

Jess shot him a puzzled glance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been with the Princess all this time, and you still haven’t noticed?”

“Noticed what?” Jess snapped, clicking her tongue. “What are you talking about?”

The truth was she had noticed something different in Rey. She just hadn’t wanted to name it. She needed someone else to say it first.

Poe hesitated, shaking his head slowly, his voice quieter now, eyes distant.

“Have you noticed that whenever someone mentions the Emperor, she…”

“But she hates him.”

“I don’t think that’s what she feels anymore,” Poe said softly. 

Jess crossed her arms. “And how would you know what she feels?”

Poe gave a dry smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Trust me. I’ve been there… several times… in fact.”

Jess rolled her eyes, unsure now if he was being serious or just deflecting.

“What do we do?”

“We wait and see,” Poe said. “I trust Rey.”

“So do I,” Jess murmured.

“This is going to test us,” Poe said quietly, shaking his head again. “All of us.”

They both stood at the doorway without returning inside, just staring into the darkness.