[ If there was one thing a bastard from Dorne was any good at, it was surviving. When the knights came, she slipped back into the trees. She didn't feel particularly heroic, watching those sellswords and would-be slaves get cut down. Blood gurgled out of the throat of one who had tried to talk back to the knights who questioned them — she realized, quickly, on the whereabouts of a messenger.
She'd never seen anything like it. Not in action, anyway. All the corpses she looted were long since dead. Rotted or drawing real buzzards, most of them.
She slunk back into the woods, too keenly aware of what they would do to her if they got their hands on her. Worse, it wouldn't just be her. The King was a monster. Everyone knew it. If House Organa was the only house standing against him, the only hope any of the common people had lay in her. Her, and Luke Skywalker.
Rey's heart pounded in her chest. Skywalker. If it was really him …
She studied the script on the paper again, the name of the house he was staying in at Essos, the scrawled map of the dock in one of the free cities. And then she doubled back the way they had come, trying to avoid the Kingsguard's approach.
The fire was still going at their abandoned camp. She circled back around towards the smoke, stopping in the woods when she saw that the entire Kingsuard unit had not moved on.
Ren.
Her blood ran cold. No. He'd looked up. It was too late for her to keep him from seeing her. But the crumpled, opened parchment was already in her hand, and he was between her and the fire.
She tore the wax seal off of it and stuffed the parchment into her mouth. It was dry and thick and lacquered with some kind of sealant to keep it from weathering and she chewed through it anyway. They might have her, might have Finn too, but they weren't going to get Skywalker. The red wax, and Organa's seal on it, stuck out, bright and angry against the forest floor until Rey turned on her heel to run, kicking topsoil over it.
no subject
She'd never seen anything like it. Not in action, anyway. All the corpses she looted were long since dead. Rotted or drawing real buzzards, most of them.
She slunk back into the woods, too keenly aware of what they would do to her if they got their hands on her. Worse, it wouldn't just be her. The King was a monster. Everyone knew it. If House Organa was the only house standing against him, the only hope any of the common people had lay in her. Her, and Luke Skywalker.
Rey's heart pounded in her chest. Skywalker. If it was really him …
She studied the script on the paper again, the name of the house he was staying in at Essos, the scrawled map of the dock in one of the free cities. And then she doubled back the way they had come, trying to avoid the Kingsguard's approach.
The fire was still going at their abandoned camp. She circled back around towards the smoke, stopping in the woods when she saw that the entire Kingsuard unit had not moved on.
Ren.
Her blood ran cold. No. He'd looked up. It was too late for her to keep him from seeing her. But the crumpled, opened parchment was already in her hand, and he was between her and the fire.
She tore the wax seal off of it and stuffed the parchment into her mouth. It was dry and thick and lacquered with some kind of sealant to keep it from weathering and she chewed through it anyway. They might have her, might have Finn too, but they weren't going to get Skywalker. The red wax, and Organa's seal on it, stuck out, bright and angry against the forest floor until Rey turned on her heel to run, kicking topsoil over it.
They didn't have her yet. ]