Chapter Text
Kylo should hate her. Princess Rey of the Sand Throne was the daughter of his enemy and the almost-bride of a man he despised above all other men. But now she was his prize of war.
If he was smart, he would take her titles and force her to a nunnery. She could, by right, be considered heir to the throne he now possessed. There were also rumors that she had been wed in secret and was carrying a royal child. Silly rumors, but rumors nonetheless.
If it were up to Snoke, Kylo's advisor, he would see her on the scaffold. But Kylo had never condoned killing innocent women and children—and she was a child. seventeen by her name day. Besides, her death would bring about another war. Her family had powerful allies that he did not want to cross, and he had already seen enough bloodshed to last a lifetime. She was more useful to him alive.
Kylo drank deeply of the wine in his cup and examined Princess Rey, who was standing before him in the throne room. She did not assume a submissive posture, but instead gave him a contemptuous stare, her eyes brillant with unshed tears. At least she was not a weepy, pitiful thing.
He regarded her with unabashed curiosity, eyes raking over her lithe form. She had not yet come into her body; her breasts were small and her hips were narrow. Her long hair was looped thrice atop her head and held in place with silver pins that glimmered in the candlelight, needle sharp.
Womanhood would look good on her. One year, maybe two, and then…the flower would blossom. If he had learned anything in his life, it was that patience was a virtue. Why eat off the vine when one could have wine?
“My lady,” Kylo said, rising. She had yet to kneel to him and swear her allegiance, but he would make her do it soon. Her defiance had to be tempered.
“Bastard,” she snarled. “King killer.”
Her tongue was sharp. General Hux hadn’t lied when he’d called her something close to feral. She braced for his anger, but he smiled at her, amused. Bastard. King Killer. It was what everyone was whispering behind his back. He knew that he was not a favorite amongst his new subjects. That was why he needed her—she had royal blood. Pure and unbastardized.
Princess Rey looked around the room at the men and women who had recently sworn their allegiance to him. “Cowards, all of you. You ate at our table and called yourself the King’s friend. You swore oaths under the banner of his house and pledged yourself to my beloved: King Han of House Solo.”
“You will not speak his name,” Kylo warned, pointing a gloved finger at her.
She sneered. “Does it make you feel guilty to know you killed your own father?”
“Father,” Kylo spat. “Bastards have no fathers.”
“You are a heartless monster.” She took a small step forward. “He took care of you and your mother. He did not forget you as others would have done.”
He thrust his goblet into a nearby guard’s chest, stepping off the dais to come down to her level. Rey’s two handmaids looked nervous, but she, the centerpiece of the room, showed not the faintest trace of fear. He felt an odd affinity for her, this brave girl. He chanced a touch, brushing her cheek.
“Monsters are made, my lady,” he said, gently cupping her face. “My mother was not much older than you. The only daughter of a miller. The king happened upon her in a field and after he had her, he kept her around like a favorite pet.”
“He gave you a knighthood and a large estate. Servants. Gold. You were spoiled beyond measure.”
“He also told me to be a good servant to his future heirs…” Kylo reached out and removed one of the pins from her hair, relieving her of a weapon. There was a chance it could even be coated in poison—Jakku’s banner had a serpent on it. “You should thank me for saving you. If not for me, that old man would likely be rutting inside of you right now.”
“The king was only old because he refused to take a wife until your mother passed,” she hissed. “You took half his army and went to war with him.”
“I gave him a chance to legitimize me, and instead he sent for you.” He found and removed the last two pins in her hair, letting it fall loose around her shoulders. She looked younger with her hair down. He liked it better. The two tones of auburn complimented her freckles and the color of her eyes.
“He loved you.”
He handed the pins to the handmaid on her right, a pretty girl with short black hair and a heart shaped face. The one who, if the rumor was true, had bit General Hux when he’d tried to grab her.
“Yes, he did love me—and my mother,” he said, turning his attention back to Rey. “This man went so far as to call my mother Princess. But what good did that do her? She was still a whore to the court. They wouldn’t even call her his mistress because of her common birth.”
“So you punished your own people by inciting a civil war? Bloodying the soil on which you were born? I have seen firsthand your reputation for crushing your countrymen with no mercy on the battlefield.”
She was too young to understand that what he did had been a mercy; a long war would starve the people, and sickness would follow in its wake. She would never know that his father’s eyes had looked relieved when the blade had finally found his heart.
“I have taken back my rightful home. The blood will wash away with the next good rain. Tomorrow, farmers will go to their fields. The markets will open. People want peace, not war. I can be the iron and you the hand that offers mercy, if you think me incapable of it.”
“You would use my crown to legitimize your own?” Now it was her turn to scoff. “You are a fool.”
He raised his hand as if to strike her, but did not follow through. He would never hit his own queen, but Rey didn’t need to know that. He needed to frighten her. She turned her face away, expecting the blow, but when it didn’t come she blinked at him
He lowered his hand. “Bridle that tongue, my dear. You are under my protection.”
“I’m a prisoner.”
“A guest,” he corrected her with a smile. “With all the accommodations befitting a future queen.”
“I will not marry you.”
His patience was wearing thin. This defiance of their union would end now. “We marry at dawn. You will take my hand, swear your allegiance, and bring peace to the kingdom.”
Her lower lip trembled. Not for the first time, Kylo cursed his father for taking such a young bride. He took off his gloves and handed them to the other handmaiden, a young woman with yellow hair and a milky complexion. (The one his knight, Poe, couldn’t seem to stop staring at.)
“You fear me?” He traced the curve of her delicate collarbone with his fingertips, to the hollow of her throat, finding her pulse. Her skin was beautiful and soft. Unlike the ladies of the court, she had lived under the harsh sun and it had given her a healthy golden glow. Kylo thought he could feel the heat of the Jakku desert radiating off of her as he drew closer. “You have nothing to fear.”
“I don’t fear you.”
Her pulse, fast as a hummingbird, said otherwise. Though she was young, he was overcome with a strong desire to kiss her. He met her gaze and silently asked for permission, which was a rare gift in itself.
“Take, then,” she said, every word dripping with loathing. “That’s all you do. What does it matter if I say yes?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he settled on kissing her forehead. “Fear not, Princess. I will not bed you until I am sure you will survive birthing my child.”
She furiously blinked back tears. Some women used them as a weapon, but it was clear she was ashamed to have shown them to him all. He wiped one away with his thumb and even murmured a soft word of comfort.
She knocked his hand away. “And while you wait, will you father other bastards?”
“Jealous?” he teased, knowing she knew so little of these things. A man could find a dry well. He would never want to sire a bastard because he knew all too well what that life was like.
“I care not where you put your small prick.”
She was being called a child and hated him for it, because Father Time had not yet allowed her to mature properly. She was still in that awkward in-between stage before womanhood. Though the idea of chastity was about as appealing as boils on his ass, he offered her an olive branch. “You are beautiful. Would you ask I only drink from one spring, my love?”
She was startled at the endearment. “Drink from every spring. You cannot offend me.”
“What if I wish to bed your ladies?”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed. “You vile snake. You—”
He kissed her. Chaste. It barely lasted a second, and yet he felt as if he’d bit into some exotic fruit. As he pulled away, he saw the child in her warring with the woman she would soon become. Noble as she was, she did not know the corner in which she was backed; she was going to do something rash and stupid and he couldn’t allow it.
“Let me be clear: if you refuse my offer of marriage, I will give your handmaids to my guards and send you to a nunnery. You will live your life as a Sister, hidden behind brick walls.”
Her face turned pale as linen. The sight weakened him. He leaned close to her once again, pressed his lips to her ear, and whispered, “Please.”
When she looked at him this time, he finally saw how truly scared she was. Alone in a foreign kingdom, neither widow nor queen, she had little options available to her. He wondered if she missed her homeland. A spy had told him that she had traveled across a vast ocean to get here, and that she had loved the sight of the endless water.
He held his hand out, beseeching her.
“I will marry you,” she eventually said, her small hand finding his. She was trembling. “But a child’s vow is hardly a vow. Would you not wait until I am of age to give it?”
Gods, she was making this difficult. But at least she had agreed. Could he not give her more time? A vow would sound prettier if he could kiss the lips that gave it.
“We’ll marry at dawn. Afterward, I believe the house my father kept my mother in should suffice for the next two years.”
He had not decided where to put her until that moment. Snoke, his advisor who was lurking behind the throne, would have her locked away in a tower. But it felt right, putting her there. She would be safe, and it was close enough that he could visit her.
“And my handmaids?”
“I have two knights in my company who need wives. But as I would not deprive you of your companions, they, like me, can wait.”
Hux needed a wife—whether he wanted one or not. The man might be less insufferable with one. Poe Dameron would need a title and a wife. Now that the war was over, Kylo’s endless list of political duties had started.
“If they consent and the match is a good one,” she conceded. He noticed the tremor in her hand was gone.
He couldn’t hide his smile. “As you say, my lady.”
“Could I ask a favor?”
“Very well. An early wedding gift.”
“Bury your father with all the honors befitting a king.”
He froze, his good humor gone. The court was silent.
“Your beloved ?”
“No,” she said. “We sat across from each other at dinner a few times, barely able to hold a conversation. I saw how melancholy he was. He missed you.”
Kylo clenched his jaw, sensing all eyes on him. He had thought to dump his father’s body in a shallow grave, but had not yet found the command in himself to do so. A last weakness. Now, the girl who could have asked for any favor, asked for this.
“For my mother…not for you,” he said with disgust, letting go of her hand. “Bury the body next to hers. Let them rest together.”
“Thank you. He loved you, Ben.”
If she had been a man, he would have killed her. She choked back a scream as his hand shot out, digging into the soft skin of her jaw, drawing her close as if to kiss her. “Say that name again and I will take the tongue of the handmaid closest to you.”
“Yes, my King.” She called him by his title, fear for her maids overriding her scorn. “Forgive me. I misspoke.”
He needed to dismiss her now that the matter had been settled, but he did not want his last words to be cruel. When he let go, he could see the imprint of his fingers on her skin and he felt a tinge of guilt. His father never would have done that.
He took her hands, surprised to find that she had calluses on her fingers, and brushed a thumb over the thick skin. Though her hands were small in his, they were not a typical lady’s hands.
“You are a fighter?” he asked, impressed.
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Hardly appropriate for a queen. You probably had terrible teachers.”
He saw her anger return and was thankful for it—he had not liked the cowed, submissive girl. “I’ve held a sword since I could walk. My kingdom does not grow things. Salt is our gold. The sand tears flesh off of men and polishes their bones. Nothing weak can survive.”
“Forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to call you weak. I’ll send for a fighting instructor. Once a week, you can tell me about your accommodations and what you’ve learned.”
“Are you that sure of yourself?”
“My lady, whatever you know has been washed down to accommodate your station.”
“We could have a duel, my King. If you win, I will swear my allegiance to you. And if I win…” She jutted her chin up. “You let me go back home to Jakku. I keep my kingdom and title. No marriage.”
Laughter broke out in the room. She turned toward them all. “Give me a sword.”
“You are seventeen and I am twice your size.” Kylo loved her spirit, but there was much work to be done and a quick wedding to prepare. “Come now, Princess. I am sure your skills are tolerable, but they cannot be compared to mine.”
“Surely you’re not afraid to fight a mere girl?”
A few soldiers laughed. He paused, mulling it over. What was a little fun after so much death?
“It seems the war has not yet ended,” Kylo said, his voice pitched for all. He unpinned his cloak. Poe stepped forward to take it. “Poe, would you fetch two dowels?''
“Sword,” Rey protested, but he stopped her.
“A dowel works just as well. Or do you wish to run me through?”
She didn’t answer, and a few soldiers started shouting out mock bets. Rose joined her and together they started unlacing the strings of her train. He heard them whispering to each other, but they were too quiet for him to make out specifics.
Poe left to retrieve the training weapons. When he returned, he gave the dowels to Kylo who weighed them both and chose the best one for Rey. She took it and swung it a few times in practice. He had a feeling that if she could have gotten away with it, she would have fought him on the battlefield herself.
The ladies next to her moved a safe distance away. Kylo knew them both by name and their background. Rose was the daughter of a merchant who shipped the salt from Jakku. Her father would need to be assured of her safety for the trade route to be reestablished. Kaydel was the youngest daughter of a pompous Lord whose lands Kylo had just relieved him of. Her father would be thankful his daughter had secured a position and thus he would not be stripped of his title.
“May I advise that I think this is a terrible idea,” Snoke remarked from the shadows. A crosshair of sunlight illuminated him enough for Kylo to see the disapproval in his blue eyes.
“You think I’ll lose?” Kylo said, joining Rey in the circle. “Perhaps you should bet on the lady.”
Snoke arched an eyebrow, not amused. “You seem to wager a kingdom as if it is nothing.”
“If I lose to a seventeen year old girl, I doubt my reign will last long,” Kylo retorted.
“Your father lost his throne because of a girl. Pray you don’t do the same.”
Kylo's mood soured under the sting of his mentor's words. He would let the princess take a few swings, and then he would give her a smack on her rump and end it once and for all.
“My lady.” He gave Rey a half bow.
The court went silent. Kylo opened himself up, hoping to draw her in. Her dress was shorter now with her train gone, allowing her to move without hindrance. As she circled him slowly, he noted that her footwork was fairly skilled. She’d taken off her shoes and was wearing nothing but her stockings.
Rey swung out at him and he lazily blocked it, almost disappointed in the blunder of the execution. But then, she took the moment to feint to the left and turned it against him. He barely had time to block the real strike, and the embarrassment of taking the first hit.
He met her gaze and nodded, impressed. “All right. So that’s how it’s going to be.”
Kylo watched her with a more keen eye. When she tried the same trick again, he clicked his tongue in disapproval. She shrugged as if to say, it was worth a shot. He held his arms wide, allowing his torso to look open like he did before. This time, she was the one who clicked her tongue at him.
However, after circling around each other for a moment, she made her first mistake. She tried a different feint. It was a good one, but he knew it was coming and turned it against her. He drove her back as she continued to swing her practice sword at him. Her moves were a little sloppy, but she was still better than many of the men that he knew.
“You need a teacher,” Kylo said. He decided to strike his first blow, giving her a taste of his power.
“I could say the same for you,” she bit back, even as she struggled to counter his strike. She delivered three blows near his lower torso, likely hoping to lure his sword down so his neck would be vulnerable. A few of his men might have fallen for it, but not him. He could tell she was getting frustrated.
“Halcion’s defense,” he said, calling her move. “A good choice for when you are outmatched.”
“I am not outmatched. I’m just smaller.”
“Is that so?” The dowels clacked as he drove her to defend.
Rey was getting tired, her footwork less sure. She tried another move, crude and obvious and meant to gut an enemy. He blocked it and drove her back even further. Clearly she was getting desperate.
She used Wyman’s strategy next, which made her open her body up, drawing her attacker in. He played into it, allowing her a false sense of security. When in reality, he knew exactly what she was planning to do: she was going to use his own swing to throw him out of the circle, and then she was going to stab him in the back. A fine soldier she would make.
Kylo didn’t hold back this time. His counter move would end this silly duel and she would be better for it.
Except, instead of using Wyman’s strategy like he had predicted, she dove into him. A suicide move. He reacted a split second too late, and his dowel was at her throat as hers was to his belly. She would kill herself to win.
“That is not a win,” he said, digging the dowel into her neck.
She pushed her own dowel harder into his stomach. “But it’s not a loss, now is it?”
He was in trouble. He knew that even as he stepped away to call the match a draw. She was a distraction he didn’t need, but his heart—that cold thing he had long thought wouldn’t beat for anyone—seemed to think otherwise.
He threw his dowel on the floor, hearing it clatter loudly on the stone. “I think that’s enough.”
He caught something in Rey’s expression that gave him pause. She looked triumphant, as though she had won the battle. Surely, she could not think a draw was a win. No. A prickle of unease crept up his spine, like he was being tricked somehow. He searched the room and instantly figured out what was wrong: they were one handmaid shy.
“Where is the other handmaid? Rose?” he demanded. No one answered. He turned to Poe, who had lost his leisurely smile, and said, “Find her.”
Poe snapped his fingers and several soldiers went with him. Kylo turned on Rey, grabbing her arm and giving her a good shake. “Where did she go? This place is fortified. Your servant will not escape.”
Rey said nothing; escape was not the aim. Which meant there was only one other alternative.
“What message is she sending?” he snarled. The castle was known to the handmaid. If she made it to a bird and sent a message, the consequences would ripple like a stone thrown in a pond. Damn her. Damn his carelessness. She could undermine all the plans he had carefully laid, years of hard work.
Snoke walked behind them. “What message, girl? Speak up or I’ll lash the servant myself.”
Rey pulled away, pointing the dowel at him. “You are no king. Not without me. And my family has powerful ties. We are descended from the Palpatines—or have you forgotten? When they find out I’ve been kidnapped, do you think they will do nothing?”
“Kidnapped?” Kylo grabbed her, his fingers curling around her neck. He wrenched the dowel from her hand when she tried to hit him with it. “One cannot be kidnapped if one is wed and bedded.”
She struggled under his grip, a small bird trying to fight the talons of an eagle. She had deceived him, distracted him, and played him well. At seventeen years of age.
“You have lost,” she coughed as his fingers squeezed her throat. “Return me and I will be merciful.”
He stared at her redding face, incredulous. When she smacked his hand, struggling for air, he let her go. The message might still be stopped, but could he chance another? Clearly, she was well versed in deceit. Did she understand what he would have to do now?
“I would have waited for you to bloom, my lady.” He watched her rub her throat, dragging in deep breaths. “I hope our first child doesn’t kill you.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes, along with a feeble retreat. Her footwork was sloppy. When she tried to run, he caught her with no difficulty and hauled her over his shoulder.
“Find me a priest,” he snapped at Snoke.
Snoke laced his jewel-laden fingers together. “You should have heeded my advice from the beginning, but what’s done is done. Best to beat this one often.”
Rey screeched something that sounded like ‘bastard’ and Kylo gave her rump a hard slap.
“My King,” a voice shouted.
Kylo turned to see General Hux dragging a struggling handmaid into the room. His face was almost as red as his hair as he tried to half-carry, half-walk her toward them. Hux was also bleeding from his shoulder, and Kylo realized it was probably from one of the pins he’d handed the girl. Another mistake.
“I saw several ravens leaving the west keep,” Hux informed him. “Though I’m guessing only a few carried real messages, and the rest were distractions.
“Be in the sanctuary in five minutes,” Kylo growled to Hux, cutting through the crowd. Rey’s fists beat against his back.
“What am I to do with her?” Hux said, eyeing Rose. She glared at him and then Kylo. Apparently cut from the same metal as her princess.
“Marry her.”
Hux almost let go of the girl in surprise. “My king?”
“If I am to bed a desert snake, then so are you.”
With that, Kylo left the court.