inappropriately timed force bond moments (both nsfw and humor approaches)
dream-sharing
emotional bleed/transference (from rey, involving other parties)
inappropriate force bond voyeurism on rey/poe or rey/finn
mid-conversation force bond interruption
The Rise of Skywalker- Cross-galaxy chase of the Resistance
anything related to ben solo, but especially:
snoke confessionals with family or friends of family
returning to the light
smuggler life style
jedi knight ben
resistance-fighter ben
The Rise of Skywalker- Force Ghost communications w/ Rey
anything related to supreme leader kylo ren, but especially:
fall via coup
resistance fighter reconditioning (gen or nsfw)
force ghost visits from anakin/luke/rey/leia/snoke
defeat by the resistance, and subsequent aftermath
The Rise of Skywalker- Mole Discovery w/ Hux
canto bight:
shady weapons deals
picking up prisoners
recruitment
obligatory dinner party
general casino shenanigans
beach party
basically any reason you can think of to use canto bight as a setting piece
A note on romance: I will ship all of the new trilogy characters with Kylo Ren (except Snoke/Family). But I have no interest in exploring domestic-style takes on them. Thank you for understanding.
[Another arrow pings off of his armor as they race by. Several bandits give chase as one manages to tangle itself in his fluttering red cloak.]
Hold on.
[Its a brief warning as he yanks on the horse's reins to get her to halt. The mare rearing backwards with a cry of protest. His sword flings its scabbard somewhere in the dirt behind them as he draws it, and the first unfortunate bandit to charge is kicked backward by the horse's flailing hooves.
As if on cue, the knights behind them finally launch their own horses forward, coming forward to trample the archer's who have chosen to focus on the Lord Commander. Ren struggles some to get the horse back under control while also trying to prevent Rey from falling, his sword arm slashing outward to force the charging bandits away from him.
One determined bandit catches the sword in the face and falls to the dirt, dead.]
[ She had not been the only orphaned bastard employed by Plutt in the Saltpans. There were others, and just like her, when they stole from him (stole things they had scavenged, of course) or disobeyed him or even just when he was in an unpleasant mood, he'd strike them. On those nights, Rey had leaned back against the wall and hugged her knees to her chest and recited the songs she'd heard on the road up from Dorne.
One of them was a song of adventure about a brave knight who'd traveled down to Dorne before the kingdoms had been united. He'd brought back a tapestry from the throne room on Dorne. The men she traveled with had always laughed, and it had taken her a while to realize why; people fought and died for that tapestry, and that knight had patted himself on the back, but he couldn't do anything with it. And he'd showed it off to his king, but he'd not gotten anything for it because he'd come back instead of properly holding Dorne.
She felt a great deal like that tapestry now, she realized. Useless luggage. She hated that feeling, and she decided so quickly. The journey thus far had already bruised her legs and back, and she wasn't allowed to talk, and she wasn't allowed to fight for her life, and she might as well be a bloody tapestry for all that Ren wanted from her.
When Ren slashed out, though, he lost his grip on her and she slipped off the side of the saddle, rolling into it and throwing her bound hands up over her head to keep his mare from trampling her. She rolled clear and fumbled her way to her feet.
She'd been right. There were more than four here now. So though the two archers had been felled, and Ren had caught one of them in the face, there were still a handful standing. They seemed to realize what they'd gotten themselves into, however. Ren's sword, at the very least, was a recognizable beast. This wasn't just a traveling group of green knights. The were Redcloaks with their Lord Commander.
These bandits didn't want to leave empty-handed though. Without purses or supplies to steal and get off with, one of them tried to grab the chain she dragged behind her just as she reached for Ren's dropped scabbard, thinking she might defend herself with it at least. It was heavy and metal and solid. But the bandit pulled her off her feet, but one of Ren's bannermen took him out swiftly enough. They closed ranks then, while she clambered back to her feet.
Tapestry indeed.
She looked up begrudgingly at the one who had interceded and wondered if that was loyalty to his Lord Commander or compassion for her. Or if it mattered. The rest of the bandits scattered and fled, giving up when they'd seen enough of their comrades' guts. They were smart, she thought, watching one of them recede out of sight in the tree cover. They'd run.
She looked down at the chain that dragged off her manacles.
She should have run. How long did she had to try to convince herself that dead would be better than this? If she stayed with them, Ren would either lose his temper and kill her, lose his temper and let his men have her, or get her killed with his own pride and stupidity. ]
[They were smart to have run. This likely would not be the last bandit party they tripped on in the Stormlands.
Ren watched them flee, jaw set and stiff. There was a rigidness to his posture, suggesting that he was nearly failing at curtailing the urge to charge after them and hunt them down. But after a moment or two, he exhales and forces himself to dismount. He does not go for Rey's chain right away. Instead, he moves for the scabbard.
He'd hardly drawn any blood. It was nothing to be happy about or proud of. So, quietly, he wipes the small amount of blood off on the inside of his red cloak before he shoves the sword away in its scabbard. Tying it back to his belt is something of a chore.
His men were reassured, but Ren continued to have doubts. Perhaps the girl was right -- but they were already half way through the Kingswood. Turning back now simply wasn't an option.
So he trails back to Rey and scoops up the chain, pausing long enough to look her over. He could already see some bruises forming.]
[ Nearly dying had, as it turned out, cut her temper short. And she didn't have a long fuse to begin with. Rey spat at him. It came out bloody.
It wasn't just him. It was all of it. She didn't have any bloody control over her own bloody life, couldn't even defend herself when it came to it. She wanted to cry and scream and fight, and he wouldn't even let her bloody speak without choking her for it.
The soreness in her shoulder warned her that she might have popped it from its socket. She'd done that before, once, and it had taken some work and help to get back in. Leverage. He'd never help her with it — it'd mean loosening her chains. What would happen if it stayed out, bouncing on that damned horse?
She'd told him they'd have to fight. She'd told him to go back through King's Landing. She'd told him to free her. And they were still all dancing to a fool's song anyway because of a damned title. ]
You're as mad as they say. [ Mad Lord Ren cut down his own house. Mad Ren, the King's attack dog. ]
[Her response, which should incite anger, does the opposite. He offers her the briefest flicker of a smirk, reaching up to wipe the blood from his cheek and between two of his fingers.]
Is that what they say?
[His head tilts, as if he's expecting an actual response from her. Oh yes -- he was quite mad indeed. He hadn't always been that way, of course...not that anyone alive in Westeros would be able to confirm that. For all his mother tried, she'd been told she was mad with grief, that it wasn't her fault, that some men were just born that way.
A curse from the Seven. Sometimes it was good to hear, that people accepted the symbol he'd made for himself. There was no room for regret that way.]
[ The sick bastard took joy in it. Rey couldn't stop herself. She charged him then, shoving roughly at the plate of his armor. He was too heavy to knock back in it, of course, and she was too small. In fact, pain lanced through her shoulder as she did it. She'd hurt herself more and accomplished nothing.
It didn't help. But she raised her fists again and pounded them on his breastplate and yelled like a feral thing and waited for the release of catharsis that never came. Damn him. Damn him and his Redcloaks and the King. Damn all of them. She'd never felt anything for the nobility before — they meant nothing to her, never interacted with her, barely even affected her life.
Until Ren, at least.
He should have just killed her. Maybe that was what she was really doing, ignoring the pain in her shoulder to attack him uselessly. She could provoke him this way. She'd seen his temper. ]
[Almost as soon as she charged, his men had dismounted, but Ren held up a hand to them and allowed Rey to continue her relentless flurry of attacks.
In truth, for all of his recklessness, the Lord Commander was a calculating thinker -- given the proper motivation. Watching the way Rey chose to throw her self, tilting his chin sideways to keep her from getting at his eyes. Her temper then was a familiar thing, perhaps the most familiar thing he'd felt in years. The sort of unrestrained, untethered anger that had no place in noble society.
He swayed slightly every time she threw her weight into him, eventually exhaling and reaching to grab her wrists the next time it came for his breastplate. By forcing her to stop moving, he could see that her shoulder had fallen out of its socket.
And then, he released her. She could continue until she exhausted herself, if she wanted. His hand was over the hilt of his sword, and she had no weapon or advantage. Sooner or later, she would have to give up.
He waits for a pause between her strikes before speaking.]
The sooner we get to Essos, the sooner you will be free of me.
[ Free of him, yes. And left alone with the consequence of the craven she was, giving up Skywalker so save her own skin. She was nothing. She meant nothing, next to him. She deserved to die for giving him up, if nothing else, but she just couldn't seem to let herself.
She tried to raise her hands to knock him across the face with her shackles — that would wipe the smug right out of him — but the sudden and burning pain drove her instead to her knees, pulling a scream from her. A scream, and hot tears. ]
I hate you.
[ She pulled her hands to her chest, trying to strike the right balance between letting the weight of the shackles pull on her rotator cuff and exercising her arm too fully and pulling it in a different way. ]
Ren paused to glance skyward, and then to his men. They weren't going to make anymore progress today if he didn't quiet Rey down somehow and they all knew it. So he reaches for her manacles and back to his hip for the key.]
Come here.
[If he didn't release her, he risked breaking her slim wrists while putting her shoulder back in place. So while he messed with that, he spoke to his men.]
Go to my horse. There should be something to wrap this.
[One of them complied, returning with a bit of bandage and a torn bit of red cloak. It wouldn't be the most professional sling, but it would allow her to heal.]
[ It had hurt, the last time she'd had her shoulder set, and she knew already that Ren wouldn't be as gentle about it. When he freed one of her wrists, she reached up to her shirt and stuffed the hem at her collar into her mouth. She could at least bite down on that. Muffle the fact that she was going to scream, hope she didn't break her teeth without something more substantial to bite down on.
She didn't thank him and she didn't meet his gaze, even as the knight came over with the material for a sling. In fact, she looked down and away. She hated his charity more than she hated his anger and his stupidity and that hideous scar on his face. It made her feel worthless to need help from someone who was such a monster to her.
But she wasn't too good to turn it down, either. She held her wrist back out to him. If she couldn't use the arm because she'd damaged it, leaving it out of its socket, she'd never be able to work again. Some things were more important than pride. ]
[He reaches up carefully when he sees her bite at her collar and gently seeks to wiggle her mouth open to instead offer her a balled up piece of the cloak. Charity or not, they both needed things out of her -- and for that alone, he was willing to make this easier.
And then once that was done, he finished putting together the sling -- he'd have to mess with a needle and thread later to make it stronger, if she'd let him. But it would do for now. He took her wrist in one hand and wrapped his other arm around her collar bone. His wingspan was large enough to make the task of lining everything up on his chest that much easier.
And then, with a brief tap of his finger to warn her, he jerked his arms to pop it back into place with an audible sound. One knight was already handing him the sling to rest the joint in.
The injury was a blessing and a curse. It would mean that he could no longer bind her wrists, and that she was free to walk around. Ren is obviously not happy about it as he stows the manacles away in a saddle bag.]
We should move a bit farther for camp, in case they decide to come back.
[ The urge to bite him nearly won out when he pried her mouth open. It was more of the same from his camp, beside that stream. Some pale shadow of gentleness, turned poisonous and made unnerving by the intimacy therein. Instead she reluctantly opened her jaw and bite down on the piece of cloak he provided. It tasted like stale blood and dust and for the first time she wondered what they used to dye those red cloaks.
That thought was ripped from her with a shout of pain that answered the pop of her joint. The ringing in her ears continued while he helped her arm into the sling and she pulled it tight on her own, padding it with that red cloth, while he went to pack up the shackles.
She'd have broken her arm earlier if she'd thought it would have gotten her out of those.
Anyway, he made that recommendation like it was up for debate. ]
More than a bit.
[ It probably wasn't up for debate. ]
Choke me for speaking out of hand when we make camp if you want, your lordship, but I'm used to sleeping outside. And I don't want to get attacked again. [ Realizing she should qualify that, she continued, ] There were more than four; that means they're spread out. We should keep on for at least a few hours and make camp well off the road after that. Just to be sure.
[She just had to speak up. Ren can’t help the angry grimance that crosses his expression when she speaks up again. This time, he lets her finish her quantification, but he very obviously doesn’t care for any of it.]
As you wish.
[The men don’t comment on his concession. Was he agreeing to choking her, or following her advice? It was impossible to tell, which was exactly how he intended it.
This time, he doesn’t get back on his mare. Instead, he wraps up the reins in his hand and marches forward. The others fall in formation around him and Rey.
They continue on until the sun begins to disappear and, sure enough, Ren diverts off the path. The men dismount to do the same. These pars of the woods were less known to him, but it was easy to spot a clearing at the top of a small hill. They just had to get up there. Most of the supplies make it up wihout issue, but the small cart on the horse doesn’t quite appreciate the incline. And so, Ren retreats to help his men get it up to the top in another rare display of charity.
He was too close to let something like making camp delay him. Everything gets set up much faster now that there are less of them and the more lavish of their supplies have been taken away. All of the knights are eager to dispose of their armor after a day of trapsing about in the Kingswood.]
[ Soreness spread through her legs as she started after him on foot, and suddenly, Rey felt endlessly grateful that he didn't try to put her back on that saddle. Even putting aside the shoulder injury that would probably ache with every cantering movement, her whole body was sore from just the ride. It was only just hitting her now that she was on her feet.
She could feel every bruise and blister, yet somehow her legs still felt like wobbly half-numb jelly. How could it hurt so much and feel tingly and numb? Every step, she tried to lengthen her strides, hoping that it would stretch her out and make the next day less painful. She'd still be sore, but maybe not as sore.
The others were obviously used to this. Trained knights. She'd always figured people from that sort of life must have a cushy existence. And they did, obviously. They weren't hurting for supplies or anything like that. Probably they'd get to Storm's End and easily be able to secure passage, never questioning. But there was some grit to them too.
Once Ren parted from her to help with the cart, it sank in how he just … kept going. Whatever plowed him forward, it was something stronger than money or honor.
Rey, unable to help with the cart, instead led the horses up, tied tandem to each other. For a moment, she thought of hopping on one and disappearing, but they'd have the other two, and they were better riders, and her arm was in a sling. She didn't even know how to steer one. How loyal were horses to their masters? She didn't know. Finding out would probably cost her the newfound freedom she had earned, and therefore her chance to cut Ren's throat in his sleep.
She patted the side of Ren's mare as she lead it upward. ]
Thanks for taking it easy on me. [ She said genially. ] You must be quite patient, putting up with him all the time.
[ She tied them as she had seen the men do the day before at the top of the hill. It was a good campsite that Ren had spotted. Well-positioned, hard to be snuck up on. By then the cart had made it to the top of the hill with her, and any hope of disappearing into the twilight was gone. ]
[Ren is almost surprised to find Rey at the top of the hill with the horses, evident by the way his eyes linger on her for just a touch too long. He turns away to help set up their meager camp. This evening is less eventful than the previous. Without the two instigators, the older knights are content to eat and sleep, with just a bit of drinking in moderation. Ren once again avoids partaking, instead choosing to sit outside of his tent and munch on a bit of jerky.
He doesn't bother to attempt to re-secure Rey. They would be taking shifts to make certain the bandits didn't sneak up on them again, and also to make sure Rey didn't try any funny business.
He's since changed, gone to relieve himself behind a tree, and is now making his way back to the group.]
[ While they all settled in, Rey kept her distance. She sat apart from the fire as though she were still chained to a log. She didn't want to give the impression that she meant to participate like she was here willingly. She wasn't one of them. She was their prisoner.
So she sat near the horses, back propped up against a tree, trying to ignore hunger because she didn't want to owe them anything or have Ren go on again about his charity. If they'd not taken her, she wouldn't need his charity. She'd be free and her arm would work and she could hunt for herself.
Ren returned from somewhere and his men retired to their shared tent. For a while longer, Rey kept her distance, but eventually she got hungry and made her way over to see what she could scrounge up from what they'd left behind at the fire. There's a bowl of something there, untouched. One of his men had likely left it for her.
It left her feeling weird to look at it, but not too weird to eat it.
While she shoveled it into her mouth (it was salty and tough, but ultimately edible), she watched Ren. Night had fallen completely by then, a dark cloak that shadowed everything beyond a few feet of the fire. His horse practically disappeared in the pitch.
[He'd been about to reach for the same book he'd been reading the previous evening when she poses her question. Ren glances up to meet her eyes, half-way between a frown as he tries to decide whether or not he wants to share the store.]
If you are hoping for an exciting war story, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you.
[Maybe that would be enough to chase her off from asking more questions. The wound was hardly anything to write home about and in fact was better off not discussed. Nobody ever really had the courage to ask after it before; with Ren's temper so well known and the wound such a clear sign of someone who had gotten an advantage, the answer was often deemed not worth it.
The King, however, loved to tell the story for him. It was one of his greatest victories, and one of Ren's greatest personal failures.]
[ Her reply didn't push, exactly, but it did corner him a little bit. If he'd meant to just sidestep it by dismissing her curiosity, he had failed by misattributing it. And yet … she regarded him more thoughtfully after he made that retort. She'd always been keen on hearing stories of bravery and honor. While she doubted whether his story had either, she had nonetheless revealed some of that eagerness, and he had noted it.
She went back to her food without putting further thought towards it, stirring it around for a moment. She usually ate with her right hand, but it was the one stuffed in a sling now. She had to be careful to balance the bowl between her right hand and her leg so that her less dextrous left hand didn't knock it around clumsily with the spoon. ]
And it'll be hard for you to disappoint me.
[ Seeing as she hated him. The bar was already so low. She arched her eyebrows meaningfully. If he didn't want people asking, he ought to wear his helmet or something. Surely he was used to it by now, right? It hardly seemed rude to ask with the way he flaunted it. ]
[For a time, it looks as if he's going to ignore her question. The book is open in his hands, pages occasionally turning while she struggles to eat. His eyes glance upward every now and then to make sure his focus is on their surroundings. After all, he wouldn't be much of a watchkeeper if those bandits were able to sneak up on them.]
A prisoner had called for trial by combat. I won.
[Simple. Easy. No details necessary. But he still fights with the urge to look up for a reaction. It was rare that anyone called for a Trial by Combat since King Snoke had taken the throne. With Ren has his champion, it was practically suicide.
But they had managed to cut him, in a moment of his own hesitation, when it came time for the killing blow. They had been horribly outmatched by Ren's strength -- it was nothing but a game to all who had come to witness.
And it was the first time he'd been able to see how the rest of the Kingdom looked at him.]
[ She shoveled the last spoonful of food into her mouth, then dropped the bowl into the dust. In too many ways being unshackled left her uneasy — like a guest and not a prisoner in their camp. Bound only by her own self preservation. To that end, her eyes scanned the trees as well. ]
Pity.
[ Maybe her life wouldn't have been better, had he lost. Maybe another would have just been in his place. Maybe even someone worse. Acknowledging there could be worse made her uncomfortable, though, because it left her in that odd position to acknowledge the ways in which he had been less than a monster. Not always. Just often enough to perplex her. ]
And the opponent? I'll be sure and name my next toast for him.
[That much, he was sure of. The opponent hadn't meant all that much to him, not like his father, but that didn't mean he wanted to talk about the affair. It felt a bit like a show horse being put on display, and it was a feeling he was looking forward to never experiencing again.
So he changes the subject:]
Speaking of that, I find your accent rather curious. You must not have spent many years in the south.
[He keeps his book open in his lap, though he had considered closing it for a moment. He isn't sure about being invited into conversation.]
[ The subject of her past drew an uneasy silence around them. She deserved it, she supposed., for the question she had asked. Strangely, it was the first time she felt like she had an advantage over him. If she wanted, there were many others in the world who could likely tell her the real story of how he'd gained that scar, and who he'd killed that gave it to him. Lord Commander Ren's life was a matter of public record because of the status he possessed.
If he were to try to find out the answer to why a Dornish girl had such a strange accent, a mixture of higher and lower class Riverlands layered over something oddly Dornish, only a handful could answer it, and no path between him and that information but her. ]
I live in the Saltpans. [ She offered it easily nonetheless. Hers is an unremarkable tale of unremarkable people. ] I'm working for Lord Plutt. When I've earned enough, I'll be able to return to Dorne.
[ And find her parents. The mother who had no doubt been heartbroken to lose her, and then maybe information about who her father had been. The way she said it was odd, though, in that it presumed when she was done here she would return to the Saltpans and her contract with Plutt. It was not that it had not occurred to her to solicit Ren for that return to Dorne after he had what he wanted from her — rather, she fully intended still to kill him before he got it. ]
[Ren raises an eyebrow. If she'd gone from Dorne to the Riverlands at a young age, it was impossible for him to imagine that she'd done so of her own accord. No, she was most definitely sold. He decides not to offer up that bit of insight.
Instead:]
Is that your aim? To return to Dorne?
[Now he closes his book and sets it aside in favor of folding his hands in his lap.]
[ The moment he said aside his book, Rey knew she'd made a mistake sharing even that much. She didn't want attention to fix on this point. Some part of her knew to be sparing in her examination of it, her mind warning her away from something painful. Returning to Dorne had always been a distant thing, a light on the horizon. Never a reality.
Getting too close to it is like getting too close to the sun, and it shines a light on something she doesn't really want to see. ]
Is it common practice for you to negotiate with your prisoners? [ Throwing it back on him would remedy the situation, she hoped. He'd be reminded that he didn't need to offer her anything, and they would both forget this conversation ever happened. ]
It is not a negotiation. It is an offer, which you may take or leave. You will be assisting us when we get to Essos. What you do after that, I can offer assistance with -- if you choose.
[Lord Ren spreads his hands, gesturing to show that he has nothing to hide. After all, he had quite an advantage over the situation. Whether or not she complied didn't actually matter -- he knew that he had to go to Essos somewhere. It would take longer, but he had a lead.
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Hold on.
[Its a brief warning as he yanks on the horse's reins to get her to halt. The mare rearing backwards with a cry of protest. His sword flings its scabbard somewhere in the dirt behind them as he draws it, and the first unfortunate bandit to charge is kicked backward by the horse's flailing hooves.
As if on cue, the knights behind them finally launch their own horses forward, coming forward to trample the archer's who have chosen to focus on the Lord Commander. Ren struggles some to get the horse back under control while also trying to prevent Rey from falling, his sword arm slashing outward to force the charging bandits away from him.
One determined bandit catches the sword in the face and falls to the dirt, dead.]
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One of them was a song of adventure about a brave knight who'd traveled down to Dorne before the kingdoms had been united. He'd brought back a tapestry from the throne room on Dorne. The men she traveled with had always laughed, and it had taken her a while to realize why; people fought and died for that tapestry, and that knight had patted himself on the back, but he couldn't do anything with it. And he'd showed it off to his king, but he'd not gotten anything for it because he'd come back instead of properly holding Dorne.
She felt a great deal like that tapestry now, she realized. Useless luggage. She hated that feeling, and she decided so quickly. The journey thus far had already bruised her legs and back, and she wasn't allowed to talk, and she wasn't allowed to fight for her life, and she might as well be a bloody tapestry for all that Ren wanted from her.
When Ren slashed out, though, he lost his grip on her and she slipped off the side of the saddle, rolling into it and throwing her bound hands up over her head to keep his mare from trampling her. She rolled clear and fumbled her way to her feet.
She'd been right. There were more than four here now. So though the two archers had been felled, and Ren had caught one of them in the face, there were still a handful standing. They seemed to realize what they'd gotten themselves into, however. Ren's sword, at the very least, was a recognizable beast. This wasn't just a traveling group of green knights. The were Redcloaks with their Lord Commander.
These bandits didn't want to leave empty-handed though. Without purses or supplies to steal and get off with, one of them tried to grab the chain she dragged behind her just as she reached for Ren's dropped scabbard, thinking she might defend herself with it at least. It was heavy and metal and solid. But the bandit pulled her off her feet, but one of Ren's bannermen took him out swiftly enough. They closed ranks then, while she clambered back to her feet.
Tapestry indeed.
She looked up begrudgingly at the one who had interceded and wondered if that was loyalty to his Lord Commander or compassion for her. Or if it mattered. The rest of the bandits scattered and fled, giving up when they'd seen enough of their comrades' guts. They were smart, she thought, watching one of them recede out of sight in the tree cover. They'd run.
She looked down at the chain that dragged off her manacles.
She should have run. How long did she had to try to convince herself that dead would be better than this? If she stayed with them, Ren would either lose his temper and kill her, lose his temper and let his men have her, or get her killed with his own pride and stupidity. ]
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Ren watched them flee, jaw set and stiff. There was a rigidness to his posture, suggesting that he was nearly failing at curtailing the urge to charge after them and hunt them down. But after a moment or two, he exhales and forces himself to dismount. He does not go for Rey's chain right away. Instead, he moves for the scabbard.
He'd hardly drawn any blood. It was nothing to be happy about or proud of. So, quietly, he wipes the small amount of blood off on the inside of his red cloak before he shoves the sword away in its scabbard. Tying it back to his belt is something of a chore.
His men were reassured, but Ren continued to have doubts. Perhaps the girl was right -- but they were already half way through the Kingswood. Turning back now simply wasn't an option.
So he trails back to Rey and scoops up the chain, pausing long enough to look her over. He could already see some bruises forming.]
Were you injured?
[Its an invitation to speak.]
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[ Nearly dying had, as it turned out, cut her temper short. And she didn't have a long fuse to begin with. Rey spat at him. It came out bloody.
It wasn't just him. It was all of it. She didn't have any bloody control over her own bloody life, couldn't even defend herself when it came to it. She wanted to cry and scream and fight, and he wouldn't even let her bloody speak without choking her for it.
The soreness in her shoulder warned her that she might have popped it from its socket. She'd done that before, once, and it had taken some work and help to get back in. Leverage. He'd never help her with it — it'd mean loosening her chains. What would happen if it stayed out, bouncing on that damned horse?
She'd told him they'd have to fight. She'd told him to go back through King's Landing. She'd told him to free her. And they were still all dancing to a fool's song anyway because of a damned title. ]
You're as mad as they say. [ Mad Lord Ren cut down his own house. Mad Ren, the King's attack dog. ]
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Is that what they say?
[His head tilts, as if he's expecting an actual response from her. Oh yes -- he was quite mad indeed. He hadn't always been that way, of course...not that anyone alive in Westeros would be able to confirm that. For all his mother tried, she'd been told she was mad with grief, that it wasn't her fault, that some men were just born that way.
A curse from the Seven. Sometimes it was good to hear, that people accepted the symbol he'd made for himself. There was no room for regret that way.]
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It didn't help. But she raised her fists again and pounded them on his breastplate and yelled like a feral thing and waited for the release of catharsis that never came. Damn him. Damn him and his Redcloaks and the King. Damn all of them. She'd never felt anything for the nobility before — they meant nothing to her, never interacted with her, barely even affected her life.
Until Ren, at least.
He should have just killed her. Maybe that was what she was really doing, ignoring the pain in her shoulder to attack him uselessly. She could provoke him this way. She'd seen his temper. ]
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In truth, for all of his recklessness, the Lord Commander was a calculating thinker -- given the proper motivation. Watching the way Rey chose to throw her self, tilting his chin sideways to keep her from getting at his eyes. Her temper then was a familiar thing, perhaps the most familiar thing he'd felt in years. The sort of unrestrained, untethered anger that had no place in noble society.
He swayed slightly every time she threw her weight into him, eventually exhaling and reaching to grab her wrists the next time it came for his breastplate. By forcing her to stop moving, he could see that her shoulder had fallen out of its socket.
And then, he released her. She could continue until she exhausted herself, if she wanted. His hand was over the hilt of his sword, and she had no weapon or advantage. Sooner or later, she would have to give up.
He waits for a pause between her strikes before speaking.]
The sooner we get to Essos, the sooner you will be free of me.
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She tried to raise her hands to knock him across the face with her shackles — that would wipe the smug right out of him — but the sudden and burning pain drove her instead to her knees, pulling a scream from her. A scream, and hot tears. ]
I hate you.
[ She pulled her hands to her chest, trying to strike the right balance between letting the weight of the shackles pull on her rotator cuff and exercising her arm too fully and pulling it in a different way. ]
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[Her and everyone else in Westeros.
Ren paused to glance skyward, and then to his men. They weren't going to make anymore progress today if he didn't quiet Rey down somehow and they all knew it. So he reaches for her manacles and back to his hip for the key.]
Come here.
[If he didn't release her, he risked breaking her slim wrists while putting her shoulder back in place. So while he messed with that, he spoke to his men.]
Go to my horse. There should be something to wrap this.
[One of them complied, returning with a bit of bandage and a torn bit of red cloak. It wouldn't be the most professional sling, but it would allow her to heal.]
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She didn't thank him and she didn't meet his gaze, even as the knight came over with the material for a sling. In fact, she looked down and away. She hated his charity more than she hated his anger and his stupidity and that hideous scar on his face. It made her feel worthless to need help from someone who was such a monster to her.
But she wasn't too good to turn it down, either. She held her wrist back out to him. If she couldn't use the arm because she'd damaged it, leaving it out of its socket, she'd never be able to work again. Some things were more important than pride. ]
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And then once that was done, he finished putting together the sling -- he'd have to mess with a needle and thread later to make it stronger, if she'd let him. But it would do for now. He took her wrist in one hand and wrapped his other arm around her collar bone. His wingspan was large enough to make the task of lining everything up on his chest that much easier.
And then, with a brief tap of his finger to warn her, he jerked his arms to pop it back into place with an audible sound. One knight was already handing him the sling to rest the joint in.
The injury was a blessing and a curse. It would mean that he could no longer bind her wrists, and that she was free to walk around. Ren is obviously not happy about it as he stows the manacles away in a saddle bag.]
We should move a bit farther for camp, in case they decide to come back.
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That thought was ripped from her with a shout of pain that answered the pop of her joint. The ringing in her ears continued while he helped her arm into the sling and she pulled it tight on her own, padding it with that red cloth, while he went to pack up the shackles.
She'd have broken her arm earlier if she'd thought it would have gotten her out of those.
Anyway, he made that recommendation like it was up for debate. ]
More than a bit.
[ It probably wasn't up for debate. ]
Choke me for speaking out of hand when we make camp if you want, your lordship, but I'm used to sleeping outside. And I don't want to get attacked again. [ Realizing she should qualify that, she continued, ] There were more than four; that means they're spread out. We should keep on for at least a few hours and make camp well off the road after that. Just to be sure.
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As you wish.
[The men don’t comment on his concession. Was he agreeing to choking her, or following her advice? It was impossible to tell, which was exactly how he intended it.
This time, he doesn’t get back on his mare. Instead, he wraps up the reins in his hand and marches forward. The others fall in formation around him and Rey.
They continue on until the sun begins to disappear and, sure enough, Ren diverts off the path. The men dismount to do the same. These pars of the woods were less known to him, but it was easy to spot a clearing at the top of a small hill. They just had to get up there. Most of the supplies make it up wihout issue, but the small cart on the horse doesn’t quite appreciate the incline. And so, Ren retreats to help his men get it up to the top in another rare display of charity.
He was too close to let something like making camp delay him. Everything gets set up much faster now that there are less of them and the more lavish of their supplies have been taken away. All of the knights are eager to dispose of their armor after a day of trapsing about in the Kingswood.]
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She could feel every bruise and blister, yet somehow her legs still felt like wobbly half-numb jelly. How could it hurt so much and feel tingly and numb? Every step, she tried to lengthen her strides, hoping that it would stretch her out and make the next day less painful. She'd still be sore, but maybe not as sore.
The others were obviously used to this. Trained knights. She'd always figured people from that sort of life must have a cushy existence. And they did, obviously. They weren't hurting for supplies or anything like that. Probably they'd get to Storm's End and easily be able to secure passage, never questioning. But there was some grit to them too.
Once Ren parted from her to help with the cart, it sank in how he just … kept going. Whatever plowed him forward, it was something stronger than money or honor.
Rey, unable to help with the cart, instead led the horses up, tied tandem to each other. For a moment, she thought of hopping on one and disappearing, but they'd have the other two, and they were better riders, and her arm was in a sling. She didn't even know how to steer one. How loyal were horses to their masters? She didn't know. Finding out would probably cost her the newfound freedom she had earned, and therefore her chance to cut Ren's throat in his sleep.
She patted the side of Ren's mare as she lead it upward. ]
Thanks for taking it easy on me. [ She said genially. ] You must be quite patient, putting up with him all the time.
[ She tied them as she had seen the men do the day before at the top of the hill. It was a good campsite that Ren had spotted. Well-positioned, hard to be snuck up on. By then the cart had made it to the top of the hill with her, and any hope of disappearing into the twilight was gone. ]
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He doesn't bother to attempt to re-secure Rey. They would be taking shifts to make certain the bandits didn't sneak up on them again, and also to make sure Rey didn't try any funny business.
He's since changed, gone to relieve himself behind a tree, and is now making his way back to the group.]
I will take first watch.
[He nods to his companions by the fire.]
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So she sat near the horses, back propped up against a tree, trying to ignore hunger because she didn't want to owe them anything or have Ren go on again about his charity. If they'd not taken her, she wouldn't need his charity. She'd be free and her arm would work and she could hunt for herself.
Ren returned from somewhere and his men retired to their shared tent. For a while longer, Rey kept her distance, but eventually she got hungry and made her way over to see what she could scrounge up from what they'd left behind at the fire. There's a bowl of something there, untouched. One of his men had likely left it for her.
It left her feeling weird to look at it, but not too weird to eat it.
While she shoveled it into her mouth (it was salty and tough, but ultimately edible), she watched Ren. Night had fallen completely by then, a dark cloak that shadowed everything beyond a few feet of the fire. His horse practically disappeared in the pitch.
She remained quiet for a while, but finally — ]
What happened to your face?
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If you are hoping for an exciting war story, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you.
[Maybe that would be enough to chase her off from asking more questions. The wound was hardly anything to write home about and in fact was better off not discussed. Nobody ever really had the courage to ask after it before; with Ren's temper so well known and the wound such a clear sign of someone who had gotten an advantage, the answer was often deemed not worth it.
The King, however, loved to tell the story for him. It was one of his greatest victories, and one of Ren's greatest personal failures.]
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[ Her reply didn't push, exactly, but it did corner him a little bit. If he'd meant to just sidestep it by dismissing her curiosity, he had failed by misattributing it. And yet … she regarded him more thoughtfully after he made that retort. She'd always been keen on hearing stories of bravery and honor. While she doubted whether his story had either, she had nonetheless revealed some of that eagerness, and he had noted it.
She went back to her food without putting further thought towards it, stirring it around for a moment. She usually ate with her right hand, but it was the one stuffed in a sling now. She had to be careful to balance the bowl between her right hand and her leg so that her less dextrous left hand didn't knock it around clumsily with the spoon. ]
And it'll be hard for you to disappoint me.
[ Seeing as she hated him. The bar was already so low. She arched her eyebrows meaningfully. If he didn't want people asking, he ought to wear his helmet or something. Surely he was used to it by now, right? It hardly seemed rude to ask with the way he flaunted it. ]
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A prisoner had called for trial by combat. I won.
[Simple. Easy. No details necessary. But he still fights with the urge to look up for a reaction. It was rare that anyone called for a Trial by Combat since King Snoke had taken the throne. With Ren has his champion, it was practically suicide.
But they had managed to cut him, in a moment of his own hesitation, when it came time for the killing blow. They had been horribly outmatched by Ren's strength -- it was nothing but a game to all who had come to witness.
And it was the first time he'd been able to see how the rest of the Kingdom looked at him.]
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[ She shoveled the last spoonful of food into her mouth, then dropped the bowl into the dust. In too many ways being unshackled left her uneasy — like a guest and not a prisoner in their camp. Bound only by her own self preservation. To that end, her eyes scanned the trees as well. ]
Pity.
[ Maybe her life wouldn't have been better, had he lost. Maybe another would have just been in his place. Maybe even someone worse. Acknowledging there could be worse made her uncomfortable, though, because it left her in that odd position to acknowledge the ways in which he had been less than a monster. Not always. Just often enough to perplex her. ]
And the opponent? I'll be sure and name my next toast for him.
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[That much, he was sure of. The opponent hadn't meant all that much to him, not like his father, but that didn't mean he wanted to talk about the affair. It felt a bit like a show horse being put on display, and it was a feeling he was looking forward to never experiencing again.
So he changes the subject:]
Speaking of that, I find your accent rather curious. You must not have spent many years in the south.
[He keeps his book open in his lap, though he had considered closing it for a moment. He isn't sure about being invited into conversation.]
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If he were to try to find out the answer to why a Dornish girl had such a strange accent, a mixture of higher and lower class Riverlands layered over something oddly Dornish, only a handful could answer it, and no path between him and that information but her. ]
I live in the Saltpans. [ She offered it easily nonetheless. Hers is an unremarkable tale of unremarkable people. ] I'm working for Lord Plutt. When I've earned enough, I'll be able to return to Dorne.
[ And find her parents. The mother who had no doubt been heartbroken to lose her, and then maybe information about who her father had been. The way she said it was odd, though, in that it presumed when she was done here she would return to the Saltpans and her contract with Plutt. It was not that it had not occurred to her to solicit Ren for that return to Dorne after he had what he wanted from her — rather, she fully intended still to kill him before he got it. ]
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Instead:]
Is that your aim? To return to Dorne?
[Now he closes his book and sets it aside in favor of folding his hands in his lap.]
You do not need Lord Plutt for such things.
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Getting too close to it is like getting too close to the sun, and it shines a light on something she doesn't really want to see. ]
Is it common practice for you to negotiate with your prisoners? [ Throwing it back on him would remedy the situation, she hoped. He'd be reminded that he didn't need to offer her anything, and they would both forget this conversation ever happened. ]
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[Lord Ren spreads his hands, gesturing to show that he has nothing to hide. After all, he had quite an advantage over the situation. Whether or not she complied didn't actually matter -- he knew that he had to go to Essos somewhere. It would take longer, but he had a lead.
And that was all he needed.]
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