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.
[ The other two broke away from their Lord Commander to ride for what Rey could only conclude must be Storm's End. There was a song she'd heard once about a year-long siege, and staring at the curtain wall that wound around it, including one that dropped steeply off into the harbor, Rey could easily guess that the song might have been the truth.
It was an ugly thing, made uglier by the contrast against the rocky grasslands that led up to it. A singular, squat drum tower sat in the middle of that curtained wall, a stag riding high on its peak. But then, Rey had never seen another castle. Perhaps they were all equally hideous. ]
Is Lord Hux loyal to the King?
[ Rey asked, as though such a treasonous question in Hux's own realm were subject for casual conversation. There was no point in avoiding it anymore that she could see, now that his men had separated from them. What little energy she had for pretense had been drained by the chill that cut her bones now that her damp clothes hung off her body, soaked through. At the very least, they were cold enough now to soothe (or at least numb) the ache in her legs. ]
[The way Rey just lets loose with that question as they go makes something ugly crawl up his spine. He was no friend of Lord Hux, but he also knew better than to voice such opinions out in the open in his own territory.
So when he answers, its in a low bass meant only for her.]
He is loyal to the King's power.
[Which was not to say that he was more loyal to the idea of a one-true-king -- just that he would serve so long as he was promised what was owed to him. Ren could not offer what the King could, and so for an intents and purposes: yes. He was loyal to the King. But if he gave him enough coin, it should have been enough to keep him from asking too many questions.
Abruptly, the mare stops trotting as Ren yanks the reins back. It suddenly occurs to him that bringing a Dornish loudmouth bastard with him to Lord Hux's estate was perhaps a terrible idea.]
[ As the horse abruptly stopped, Rey thudded back against his chest. She twisted to look up at him, studying his face as though it would tell her his rationale. It seemed too good to be true. Would he send her alone to catch them? She could sway them, given time alone. Tell them that Ren was betraying the king, avoiding him, sow discord. They wouldn't help her slit his throat, surely, but they would know enough to be suspicious and hinder him surely.
Some part of her second-guessed this now, given his sudden preference for the idea. Maybe the two he had kept were loyal enough to him to withstand his mercurial moods and his betrayal to the king. Maybe they would put her back in chains and tell Ren what she had done.
Then was Hux her better choice? It would be her word against his, and even if Hux took Ren's head, she'd still be left in Hux's custody, forced to give the information that she had to the king. Ren's custody would be easier to slip than a cell, surely. ]
Great. Let me off here; I'll run right along after them. [ Her remarks were too dry, maybe. ]
[As it turns out, her prayers are answered. He turns his horse just enough so that he can watch her run along after them, releasing the reins so that he step down in order to assist her off the horse. He's a little more hands on this time thanks to his urgency, wrapping one hand around her waist once she has exited the stirrups so that she has an easy landing.
And then once she sees her way back to his men, he is back atop the mare and riding back toward the castle.
The meeting with Lord Hux is tenuous. Hux doesn't care much for the Redcloaks, though he understands the need for them. To Ren's surprise, he does not ask much after their needs for a boat to Essos -- hoping he would drown in the sea, perhaps. He does, however, make a big affair of its expense it will cost him, requiring Ren to pay double what he should have been paying.
On the bright side, they had beaten the ravens for now. The downside was that he was being made to proselytize to a lesser man to make certain that he would not be troubled on his way out of port.
So, when he comes back from the castle to meet Rey and his men, it is with a rolled up piece of parchment and a foul mood.]
[ She would have bolted then and there, had it not been for the fact that his men were in sight and he stayed there watching like a hawk until she reached them. One of his men dismounted, ready to offer her his horse, and she shook her head a little too forcefully. ]
Please don't make me get on that thing.
[ They laughed at her, and the other dismounted as well. They would walk the rest of the way. They seemed more comfortable without Ren there, looser in the shoulders, though it was obvious that neither of them knew what to do with her. She learned their names: Ser LeHuse and Ser Versio both came from the Reach, though they belonged to lower houses that pledged their banners early to the King's family. One of them was a firstborn whose house had been dishonored by Snoke, and he was paying the price; the other was third in line for his father's inheritance and knew he had no hope. It was either the Citadel or the Kingsguard, thus — ]
You probably would have picked the Citadel if you'd known you'd be serving under Ren.
[ Neither of them laughed at that, even with him gone. They didn't quite knew what to do with her interest in these things, it seemed. They were not used to actual conversation with the common people, but neither were they used to moving around the circles that Ren did. They were in the middle somewhere, awkward and fumbling.
His men brought her to an inn where they could put up their horses. The innkeeper gave her a piteous look, even after they asked that two rooms be provided. The innkeeper set her up with a hot meal, at least, and offered to wash her clothes for her. It was with great reluctance that Rey admitted these were the only clothes she had, and she'd have to keep them. Still, she was grateful for the woman's charity.
It didn't mean that if she tried to run the woman would cover for her, but it reminded her that not everyone was like these Redcloaks.
She gathered around a table with his men to ask the question. ]
Why does Lord Ren want so badly to avoid King's Landing? [ She searched them. ] We'd already be out to sea if we'd gone out through the Blackwater. Did he break some girl's heart?
[ They offered mumbled assurances that Lord Ren made the decisions he knew he needed to make. But Rey pushed. ]
Sure, but you don't wish he'd at least tell you why?
[ Versio warned her to keep her mouth shut to that end unless she wanted to see Ren's temper again. And then he ordered his second warm mug of mead.
Rey slipped the knife from her silverware into her sling while he was at the bar and LeHuse had turned to watch as the door opened, welcoming Ren's dark shadow inside. She'd cut it close, and his men had proven too loyal, but at least she got something out of this short period beyond his scrutiny.
'Don't move,' LeHuse told her as he went to greet Ren at the door and offer him a key. Rey glanced around, impatient and nervous, and saw that two of the innkeeper's girls had gotten their arms around Versio. ]
[Ren was clearly attempting to reign in his temper, soaked down to the bone to the point that his cloak dragged a puddle inside with him. He untucks the parchment, which is already starting to curl from the moisture in the air and tucks passed the doorway to accept the key he is offered. He is almost surprised to see that Rey is sitting at a table with Versio and the innkeeper's daughters. One of them quickly rose from his lap, only to be tugged down to her surprise. Trust me, you don't wanna go there, he said, loud enough for the Lord Commander to hear.
He casts a glance between the four of them before deciding that he doesn't care about the company, nor about his subordinate's display of disrespect -- in truth, he was doing him a favor (if not rudely).]
We leave at dawn once the seas have calmed. The storm is already passing, but the captain is already on his third bottle for the evening.
[He says this with some obvious irritation -- he isn't about to leave his life and the lives of his men in the hands of a drunk.]
Girl -- [All eyes went to Rey.] -- you will stay with me for the evening.
[Not exactly new information, but given the ultimatum offered by Versio, he felt the need to reestablish some dominance.]
[ She'd assumed, of course. They'd all assumed. But to hear him say it still made her uneasy. It would be her first night in a long while in a real bed — all the rooms had two in them, in an inn like this. She'd heard the innkeeper saying so. But it'd also be with him, and her chance to rid herself of him.
Did she really have the nerve to kill the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard? To kill someone who had promised her a way to her parents? She pushed down the questions. There would be no room for doubting herself from here out.
By his announcement, she could guess that their revels were at an end. Too bad. The others were nearly tolerable, without Ren around. She got to her feet. The innkeeper's girls looked at Versio as though they expected him to say something — if Ren was so bad, surely he would. Rey was a little thing, scrawny and dirty and injured.
But Versio kept his mouth shut. The storyteller at the other table has found a pause in his tale, distracted by the tension that Ren draws in with him. It's like the storm has come inside at its worst. ]
[Pointedly, Ren looked about the room to his men and the innkeeper's daughters before focusing on Rey again. Confusion set in his brow, like he didn't quite know what to make of her meek reply. It took much of his intimidating air away.
If he noticed the way the storm followed him inside, he did not show it.]
Were you...interested in partaking in the revelry?
[Again, the eyes went back to Rey. The innkeeper's daughters began to giggle behind their hands, and LeHuse shifted uncertainly in the silence. Versio cleared his throat in an effort to keep his amusement to himself.
Ren doubted it very much -- he'd seen himself as a rescuer in the moment he made his declaration.]
[ The uncomfortable silence that followed him in only drew greater attention to the light giggle of the innkeeper's daughters and the clearing of Versio's throat. And, well, Rey was standing now. So she felt like she had been pulled into the perfect storm of his lack of social graces.
Somehow the question didn't sound scathing. It was not as though he were holding it over her to remind her that she was his prisoner and had no say in the matter, but rather that he genuinely could not have guessed that she would have been enjoying this more than she had any other uncomfortable interaction she'd had over the past few days.
Never mind that it was the first chance she'd had to engage in another civil human being willingly. Not a redcloak whose temper or power trip might turn at any moment to violence. ]
I — [ She ought to push for him to join her upstairs so she could get it over with. But it would happen either way. If he stayed and drank with the men, it might be easier. (Ridiculous. He never drank with the men.) Or at least they'd all be deep in their cups and asleep and any sound he made might go unnoticed. And then fewer people would be in the inn proper to see her slip out.
(She could do it. She could kill him in his sleep. He had surely done it to others.)
Yes. Later would be better. ] Well, yeah.
[ A lame finish, but the only one she had. And it drew snickers from some of the other patrons who didn't know better. ]
Ren does his best to hide his uncomfortable swallow with a heavy exhale out of his nose. Regardless of what Rey wanted, he hadn't really wanted to partake in the revelry. He couldn't count on LeHuse or Verosio to stay sober enough to make sure she didn't try to slip away under the cover of night, especially not with women in the room.
Grumpily, he finds a seat, unhooking his cloak from his pauldrons to fold it up and drape it over the table.]
Fine.
[He hovers in his chair on the periphery of the group, but it takes a moment (and an annoyed gesture at the barkeep from the Lord Commander) for the room to return to normal. Of course, when he came back, the only thing he'd brought was a glass of water.
[ He made such a show of his displeasure that it took a few moments — most of which he spent at the bar, thankfully — for the air of levity to return to the table. She tried to recover it by asking one of the innkeeper's daughters about her strange and elaborate hairstyle, and the girl was all too happy to explain all the work that went into it. Rey didn't blame her. She ought to be proud, the way it looked. She wondered if all the women around here learned how to do that.
Eventually Versio got up to head to the bar for his own drink, and though Ren was back, one of the innkeeper's girls seized the opportunity to ask Rey about him. She'd been traveling with them for a while after all, right? Was he alright? That sort of thing. She found it surprisingly difficult to answer. ]
He's alright. [ Rey didn't look at Ren, but instead up at the bar at Versio. They, like Ren, were complicated. Kind individually, but she had not forgotten the way they'd chased her down with Ren's dogs, or the way they'd slaughtered her caravan. How could she reconcile those two things to a single judgment?
But she knew the answer the girl wanted: she wanted to know if he would hurt her. This, at least, Rey could answer. ] Yeah. Yeah, he's been kind.
[ Or he would be to them, at least. He wouldn't run a sword through them, they wouldn't have to watch blood pour out of anyone's throat. The storyteller joined them, eventually, and Rey asked for him to tell them one about Bastila Shan.
She listened in perfect rapture through the whole thing, paying little to no attention to the dark shadow at the corner of the table. With everything he'd put her through over the past several days, she could have this. ]
[Ren stays away from the revelry, content to spend his time at the adjacent table tracing woodgrains. He doesn’t tune into the commentary, even when his name passes between the lips of the daughters. He didn’t care much to rouse his paranoia when he had to rest for the journey in the morning. If they wasted even an ounce of time, the King might halt their departure. Once or twice he engages in some brief check-in comversation with both of his men, but other than that, he is as silent as a wight in winter.
The drink continues to flow, and Versio is the first to leave, giving a cautious glance back to Ren as he lead one of the girls to his room (much to LeHuse’s chagrin). Ren, on the other hand, pointedly looks away when their eyes meet as was expected of him. Honor might demand that he act on the code’s behalf, but honor wasn’t worth the spit it took to share it. Ren had none to speak of when it came to keeping the vows — or, at least when it came to making certain his men kept them.
They were welcome a little indulgance for the horror and justice they were often required to enact. LeHuse and the remaining daughter spend extra time recounting stories of their raids on the Northmen, and how they had torn their houses down for treason against the crown. The woman gasped and swooned when it was expected of her, but soon they wpuld retire as well.
Then it was just Ren, Rey, and the barkeep.]
Did they ever offer you a drink?
[He doesn’t look when he asks. It is a probing question, like he had tuned out the past few hours and wondered what sort of men he was raising into the Kingsguard.]
[ Rey didn't sound sorry about it. After all, she understood her position here. The clamor of the patrons made it easy for her to forget for a while — and in that moment, when the story was being told, it almost felt like she was on an adventure and not in a hell of her own making — but it was never entirely out of her mind. She was their prisoner, not their companion. No matter how kind they showed themselves to be when it was feasible.
She turned to look at Ren, considering his now empty water cup. ]
You didn't either.
[ This, she only pointed out in the event that he planned to judge them poorly for it. She got to her feet though, sensing that it was time for the two of them to turn in as well. They would be in a hurry in the morning, and some of them would likely regret staying up as late as they had for it, but … Rey wouldn't.
She hadn't ever had a night for this sort of thing. Drink or no drink. ]
[Prisoner or no prisoner. But as for the other two — well, most of his guard was made up of drunkards. He did not begrudge them for it. It only meant that they still respected his authority when he was not around, and it seems to comfort him some. He’d expected that she would try to endear herself to them somehow while he was gone, but he hadn’t speculated much. Now that he’d witnessed how quickly she fell into the fantasy, he had thought about it again.
But it didn’t matter all that much, he supposed.
Ren takes the lead up the stairs to their room after dragging his soaked cloak off the table to hand to the barkeep for laundering. The room is minimally decorated: two beds on opposite ends of the room. He does not doubt that she is glad for that. But, as for insurance, he closes the door behind her, and begins stacking his armor there at the door. It would make a racket if she tried to move it at all. By the time he has finished, he has left himself with a damp tunic and pants.
And then he turns to test the mattress. Hard, but better than a tent outdoors.]
[ His clothes were as drenched as hers. Only once they were up in the room and he was barricading the door, that fucker, did she notice that he hadn't found something fresh in a saddlebag. But, of course, he hadn't planned on a long ride when he'd come out into the Kingswood looking for her. None of them had. That was why he'd had his dogs to send back.
She watched him remove each piece to add to the tower, a terrible pit forming in her stomach. There was the window to consider — a tiny thing that only opened outwards and probably had no ledge. She might break her arm worse going out that way, but it would be her only option if she didn't want Versio and LeHuse to wake up after she'd stuck their master like a pig. ]
Given you're not a prisoner, I'll wager no ravens had arrived for Lord Hux. [ She took a seat on the bed, holding her sling carefully to her chest so she didn't let the knife slip free awkwardly. She didn't want to lose it while she stripped off her boots with her one free hand. ] So what was the bad news?
[He communicates that easily, even as he removes his tunic with his back to her in order to wring it out on the floor. A sizable downpour comes forth. Pieces of his back show old signs of lashings -- at least several months old, joined by other marks of war. Slash scars, arrowhead piercings.]
I dislike him. Very much.
[And then he is slipping his tunic back on before she can digest anything she'd managed to see and climbing onto the bed. His pants aren't quite as wet, but he's also not going to strip down in front of Rey -- prisoner or not.]
Without meaning to, Rey found herself staring up at the too-pale plane of his back. They were almost drowned by the plethora of other scars, but no. Rey knew the signs of them because she had felt them. Her uninjured hand came up to rest at her shoulder in silent thought, but as soon as he shrugged his tunic back on, she had dropped her hand, unwilling to give herself away.
It didn't matter what they had in common. Their differences were a wide valley, quite substantial enough to make up for them. She didn't have a chance to do anything with the flicker of doubt about whether he planned to do the same with his pants before he was getting on his bed.
Rey relaxed visibly, though she couldn't say why. ]
Why do you dislike him?
[ From that alone, she suspected she might like Lord Hux if she met him. She settled down onto her bed on her uninjured side, which meant staring across the room at him instead of at the wall. The rain had made the night chilly — chillier — so she pulled the blankets up around her despite the damp of her clothes. The innkeeper might just forgive her. ]
[It comes out like snake venom, hissed on his tongue under a barely restrained temper. A short exhale comes after as he tries to silence his opinions on the good Lord Hux. She did not need this information, and he did not need help being incriminated. Lord Hux held a prestigious military position in the Crownlands -- if it came down between him and Lord Hux, the King would choose Hux and find a new Lord Commander.
He doesn't need Rey to know that. He's certain he hasn't endeared her that much -- she's just as soon turn him over in hopes that she'd have an easier time getting away from Hux than himself.]
It does not matter. You hardly need any help disliking nobility yourself.
[He'd seen plenty of the looks that she'd thrown all of them, after all. The attitude she carried, like she was noble-born herself.]
It was just a question. No need to get defensive, m'lord.
[ Narrowing her eyes at him made her feel worse, somehow. If he chose to conclude that she simply disliked nobility, let him. For tonight, at least, she could bite her tongue. ]
I'm tired.
[ And she was. Her legs were sore from riding, and though she was glad for the chance to make the most of the inn's bar downstairs, she probably should have foregone it to rest in the first place. Ren's mood would undoubtedly only grow worse with his own fatigue, so she was ready to say goodbye to this sour conversation.
To this sour man.
She shut her eyes, ready to feign sleep for long enough for him to drift off. ]
[It isn’t necessarily a bitter reply, even if everything that comes out of his mouth sounds bitter in one way or another. Ren lays down not long after she does, but he takes ages to fall asleep. There is quite a lot of tossing and turning involved — the bed is too small for him, among other more common problems.
It is not the sleep of a man with a clear conscious.]
[ It was hard to know when he had actually fallen asleep because of all his shifting. But after a while, Rey had to settle. If she didn't take her chance, she wouldn't be able to keep her eyes open much longer. Worse, she'd lose her nerve.
Her eyes opened, and she exhaled slowly, watching him.
He didn't seem to stir at that, so she sat up, pulling the knife from her sling. It wasn't sharp. Too old, not intended for this purpose. She'd have to hit hard.
How hard? She'd never stabbed a man before. Sitting up in the dead of night, knife in hand, staring down at his restless form, she decided it'd have to be the neck. It would be the easiest, the most likely to kill him quickly and quietly. Right? She thought of that slaver she'd been riding with. The way his blood had gurgled bright and red out of his throat.
She wanted to cry. He hadn't been innocent, either, but it had still been horrible to see. It had still been wrong for them to do. But this wasn't wrong — it's the only choice she had. She got up off the bed and walked for his. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet, and she stood over Ren's bed.
By now her hand was shaking on the knife, and she pulled off her sling so she could steady it with her injured arm too. She had to get it right the first time. The second, at the very most. He was larger than her and stronger. If he woke up, he would kill her, and she would be forgotten. Probably not even buried, but cast into the sea for convenience's sake. Treated like garbage.
Not for the first time.
She gripped the knife in both hands, raised it over him and drew a deep breath. But she stopped before completing the motion. Her arms didn't want to budge.
She couldn't kill a man in his bed, in his sleep. Maybe the redcloaks could forget their oaths and their honor, and maybe in dealing with them, she ought to. But she couldn't. She didn't have that kind of evil in her, no matter what the world around them called for. ]
Fuck. [ She hissed it out, dropping the knife and backing off one, two steps. ]
[The knife drops on top of him and startles him out of slumber, so hard that the entire bed shakes as he cracks his head on the headboard. He swears violently and reaches up to clutch his skull, vision swimming as he comes back around. The silver of the knife catches his eye and his heart all but stops beating. He gropes for it and holes it close to his face to make sure he isn’t hallucinating. And then he looks up, to find Rey backing away from him.
She was going to kill him. Of course she was.
His grip tightens fiercely on the hilt as he sits up, pursuing her until she is within reach and grabbing her good arm defensively.]
You—
[His snarl is practically draconic, chest heaving with murderous intent as he points the knife at her.
—but he had expected this, hadn’t he? He made the grave mistake of leaving her alone where she had access to a weapon, and then trapped her in a room woth him. He had set up his own murder and was now somehow surprised by it.
His hand trembles briefly before the knife slips out of his hand, but he does not release her.]
—lost...your nerve.
[He breathes it out, trying and failing to wrangle his anger.]
[ She was shaking before he grabbed her, teetering on the verge of frustrated tears at her own impotence, at her own uselessness and failure. Until she could do this simple task, she would be trapped with him, but still she could not bring herself. Some part of her knew that if she did that, she would be too far gone, she would have let the world and all its pain ruin her, but— But wasn't she already? What did she have to call herself? A craven who gave up the information on Skywalker at the first threat on her worthless bastard's virtue.
Whatever other self-flagellation she had prepared had no time to take hold of her. Rey watched as his eyes snapped open, glinting in the dim moonlight that filtered through the window with a murderous fury. He was dazed. She almost got out of his grip, but — A yelp made its way from her as his grip closed around her uninjured arm.
Her good arm. Not the one that would bring her down, screaming in agony.
The knife thunked against the floorboards as he dropped it too. Reason and observation shouted for her to calm herself, to look at the fact, to see that he was not going to kill her but instinct drove her on anyway, wrestling in his grip. She even brought up her bad arm to try and pry his grip loose. All the while she thought of the Kingswood. She had lost her nerve there too. If she had killed herself then ... But she hadn't done that either. Because she was an idiot. A brave idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. ]
[Now what was he to do? He hadn't brought the cuffs in with him because he had thought -- stupidly -- that she would appreciate the freedom he had offered her enough that she would not try to retaliate against him. Something twists in his chest as he drops her to pick up the knife. For a long moment, he just stands there, looming over her.
And then, he strides to the window, forces its lime-ridden hatches open, and throws it outside. When that is done, he shuts the window with a hard sound of metal on stone. His men would ask him about it in the morning, no doubt.
Ren offers her one last baleful, venom laced stare before he stalks back to his bed to return to sleep. In no universe would she be able to lift anything heavy enough to bludgeon him to death, and she had no chance of wriggling out of the room with her arm in a sling.
Sleep would not come, too sick with rage and paranoia, but he did not speak to her again.]
[ He wasn't the only one to spend the night feeling sick. Self-loathing and disappointment churned Rey's stomach. She'd finally had the chance, stared her freedom in the eye, and she hadn't been able to do it. He'd said it best: she'd lost her nerve. How humiliating.
She couldn't help but think he had no right to his anger and surprise. Never had she masked her hatred for him, her desire to escape. What did he think she would do? And what would he do, now that he had apparently misplaced trust in her supposed willingness to be in his company? Back to the way he had been that first day, she supposed. Dragging her around by the throat and threatening her and refusing to hear anything she said.
All she'd done was make things harder on herself. She'd never be able to kill him while he was conscious, and she didn't have it in her to kill him while he was sleeping. Where'd that leave her? Stuck. With him, leading him on his merry way to Luke Skywalker.
She sat back on her bunk, numb and disconnected. It took a few moments' silence before she tried to instigate some explanation for herself. ]
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It was an ugly thing, made uglier by the contrast against the rocky grasslands that led up to it. A singular, squat drum tower sat in the middle of that curtained wall, a stag riding high on its peak. But then, Rey had never seen another castle. Perhaps they were all equally hideous. ]
Is Lord Hux loyal to the King?
[ Rey asked, as though such a treasonous question in Hux's own realm were subject for casual conversation. There was no point in avoiding it anymore that she could see, now that his men had separated from them. What little energy she had for pretense had been drained by the chill that cut her bones now that her damp clothes hung off her body, soaked through. At the very least, they were cold enough now to soothe (or at least numb) the ache in her legs. ]
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So when he answers, its in a low bass meant only for her.]
He is loyal to the King's power.
[Which was not to say that he was more loyal to the idea of a one-true-king -- just that he would serve so long as he was promised what was owed to him. Ren could not offer what the King could, and so for an intents and purposes: yes. He was loyal to the King. But if he gave him enough coin, it should have been enough to keep him from asking too many questions.
Abruptly, the mare stops trotting as Ren yanks the reins back. It suddenly occurs to him that bringing a Dornish loudmouth bastard with him to Lord Hux's estate was perhaps a terrible idea.]
You should be with the men.
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Some part of her second-guessed this now, given his sudden preference for the idea. Maybe the two he had kept were loyal enough to him to withstand his mercurial moods and his betrayal to the king. Maybe they would put her back in chains and tell Ren what she had done.
Then was Hux her better choice? It would be her word against his, and even if Hux took Ren's head, she'd still be left in Hux's custody, forced to give the information that she had to the king. Ren's custody would be easier to slip than a cell, surely. ]
Great. Let me off here; I'll run right along after them. [ Her remarks were too dry, maybe. ]
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And then once she sees her way back to his men, he is back atop the mare and riding back toward the castle.
The meeting with Lord Hux is tenuous. Hux doesn't care much for the Redcloaks, though he understands the need for them. To Ren's surprise, he does not ask much after their needs for a boat to Essos -- hoping he would drown in the sea, perhaps. He does, however, make a big affair of its expense it will cost him, requiring Ren to pay double what he should have been paying.
On the bright side, they had beaten the ravens for now. The downside was that he was being made to proselytize to a lesser man to make certain that he would not be troubled on his way out of port.
So, when he comes back from the castle to meet Rey and his men, it is with a rolled up piece of parchment and a foul mood.]
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Please don't make me get on that thing.
[ They laughed at her, and the other dismounted as well. They would walk the rest of the way. They seemed more comfortable without Ren there, looser in the shoulders, though it was obvious that neither of them knew what to do with her. She learned their names: Ser LeHuse and Ser Versio both came from the Reach, though they belonged to lower houses that pledged their banners early to the King's family. One of them was a firstborn whose house had been dishonored by Snoke, and he was paying the price; the other was third in line for his father's inheritance and knew he had no hope. It was either the Citadel or the Kingsguard, thus — ]
You probably would have picked the Citadel if you'd known you'd be serving under Ren.
[ Neither of them laughed at that, even with him gone. They didn't quite knew what to do with her interest in these things, it seemed. They were not used to actual conversation with the common people, but neither were they used to moving around the circles that Ren did. They were in the middle somewhere, awkward and fumbling.
His men brought her to an inn where they could put up their horses. The innkeeper gave her a piteous look, even after they asked that two rooms be provided. The innkeeper set her up with a hot meal, at least, and offered to wash her clothes for her. It was with great reluctance that Rey admitted these were the only clothes she had, and she'd have to keep them. Still, she was grateful for the woman's charity.
It didn't mean that if she tried to run the woman would cover for her, but it reminded her that not everyone was like these Redcloaks.
She gathered around a table with his men to ask the question. ]
Why does Lord Ren want so badly to avoid King's Landing? [ She searched them. ] We'd already be out to sea if we'd gone out through the Blackwater. Did he break some girl's heart?
[ They offered mumbled assurances that Lord Ren made the decisions he knew he needed to make. But Rey pushed. ]
Sure, but you don't wish he'd at least tell you why?
[ Versio warned her to keep her mouth shut to that end unless she wanted to see Ren's temper again. And then he ordered his second warm mug of mead.
Rey slipped the knife from her silverware into her sling while he was at the bar and LeHuse had turned to watch as the door opened, welcoming Ren's dark shadow inside. She'd cut it close, and his men had proven too loyal, but at least she got something out of this short period beyond his scrutiny.
'Don't move,' LeHuse told her as he went to greet Ren at the door and offer him a key. Rey glanced around, impatient and nervous, and saw that two of the innkeeper's girls had gotten their arms around Versio. ]
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He casts a glance between the four of them before deciding that he doesn't care about the company, nor about his subordinate's display of disrespect -- in truth, he was doing him a favor (if not rudely).]
We leave at dawn once the seas have calmed. The storm is already passing, but the captain is already on his third bottle for the evening.
[He says this with some obvious irritation -- he isn't about to leave his life and the lives of his men in the hands of a drunk.]
Girl -- [All eyes went to Rey.] -- you will stay with me for the evening.
[Not exactly new information, but given the ultimatum offered by Versio, he felt the need to reestablish some dominance.]
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Did she really have the nerve to kill the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard? To kill someone who had promised her a way to her parents? She pushed down the questions. There would be no room for doubting herself from here out.
By his announcement, she could guess that their revels were at an end. Too bad. The others were nearly tolerable, without Ren around. She got to her feet. The innkeeper's girls looked at Versio as though they expected him to say something — if Ren was so bad, surely he would. Rey was a little thing, scrawny and dirty and injured.
But Versio kept his mouth shut. The storyteller at the other table has found a pause in his tale, distracted by the tension that Ren draws in with him. It's like the storm has come inside at its worst. ]
Now, m'lord?
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If he noticed the way the storm followed him inside, he did not show it.]
Were you...interested in partaking in the revelry?
[Again, the eyes went back to Rey. The innkeeper's daughters began to giggle behind their hands, and LeHuse shifted uncertainly in the silence. Versio cleared his throat in an effort to keep his amusement to himself.
Ren doubted it very much -- he'd seen himself as a rescuer in the moment he made his declaration.]
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Somehow the question didn't sound scathing. It was not as though he were holding it over her to remind her that she was his prisoner and had no say in the matter, but rather that he genuinely could not have guessed that she would have been enjoying this more than she had any other uncomfortable interaction she'd had over the past few days.
Never mind that it was the first chance she'd had to engage in another civil human being willingly. Not a redcloak whose temper or power trip might turn at any moment to violence. ]
I — [ She ought to push for him to join her upstairs so she could get it over with. But it would happen either way. If he stayed and drank with the men, it might be easier. (Ridiculous. He never drank with the men.) Or at least they'd all be deep in their cups and asleep and any sound he made might go unnoticed. And then fewer people would be in the inn proper to see her slip out.
(She could do it. She could kill him in his sleep. He had surely done it to others.)
Yes. Later would be better. ] Well, yeah.
[ A lame finish, but the only one she had. And it drew snickers from some of the other patrons who didn't know better. ]
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Ren does his best to hide his uncomfortable swallow with a heavy exhale out of his nose. Regardless of what Rey wanted, he hadn't really wanted to partake in the revelry. He couldn't count on LeHuse or Verosio to stay sober enough to make sure she didn't try to slip away under the cover of night, especially not with women in the room.
Grumpily, he finds a seat, unhooking his cloak from his pauldrons to fold it up and drape it over the table.]
Fine.
[He hovers in his chair on the periphery of the group, but it takes a moment (and an annoyed gesture at the barkeep from the Lord Commander) for the room to return to normal. Of course, when he came back, the only thing he'd brought was a glass of water.
Revelry, indeed.]
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Eventually Versio got up to head to the bar for his own drink, and though Ren was back, one of the innkeeper's girls seized the opportunity to ask Rey about him. She'd been traveling with them for a while after all, right? Was he alright? That sort of thing. She found it surprisingly difficult to answer. ]
He's alright. [ Rey didn't look at Ren, but instead up at the bar at Versio. They, like Ren, were complicated. Kind individually, but she had not forgotten the way they'd chased her down with Ren's dogs, or the way they'd slaughtered her caravan. How could she reconcile those two things to a single judgment?
But she knew the answer the girl wanted: she wanted to know if he would hurt her. This, at least, Rey could answer. ] Yeah. Yeah, he's been kind.
[ Or he would be to them, at least. He wouldn't run a sword through them, they wouldn't have to watch blood pour out of anyone's throat. The storyteller joined them, eventually, and Rey asked for him to tell them one about Bastila Shan.
She listened in perfect rapture through the whole thing, paying little to no attention to the dark shadow at the corner of the table. With everything he'd put her through over the past several days, she could have this. ]
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The drink continues to flow, and Versio is the first to leave, giving a cautious glance back to Ren as he lead one of the girls to his room (much to LeHuse’s chagrin). Ren, on the other hand, pointedly looks away when their eyes meet as was expected of him. Honor might demand that he act on the code’s behalf, but honor wasn’t worth the spit it took to share it. Ren had none to speak of when it came to keeping the vows — or, at least when it came to making certain his men kept them.
They were welcome a little indulgance for the horror and justice they were often required to enact. LeHuse and the remaining daughter spend extra time recounting stories of their raids on the Northmen, and how they had torn their houses down for treason against the crown. The woman gasped and swooned when it was expected of her, but soon they wpuld retire as well.
Then it was just Ren, Rey, and the barkeep.]
Did they ever offer you a drink?
[He doesn’t look when he asks. It is a probing question, like he had tuned out the past few hours and wondered what sort of men he was raising into the Kingsguard.]
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[ Rey didn't sound sorry about it. After all, she understood her position here. The clamor of the patrons made it easy for her to forget for a while — and in that moment, when the story was being told, it almost felt like she was on an adventure and not in a hell of her own making — but it was never entirely out of her mind. She was their prisoner, not their companion. No matter how kind they showed themselves to be when it was feasible.
She turned to look at Ren, considering his now empty water cup. ]
You didn't either.
[ This, she only pointed out in the event that he planned to judge them poorly for it. She got to her feet though, sensing that it was time for the two of them to turn in as well. They would be in a hurry in the morning, and some of them would likely regret staying up as late as they had for it, but … Rey wouldn't.
She hadn't ever had a night for this sort of thing. Drink or no drink. ]
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[Prisoner or no prisoner. But as for the other two — well, most of his guard was made up of drunkards. He did not begrudge them for it. It only meant that they still respected his authority when he was not around, and it seems to comfort him some. He’d expected that she would try to endear herself to them somehow while he was gone, but he hadn’t speculated much. Now that he’d witnessed how quickly she fell into the fantasy, he had thought about it again.
But it didn’t matter all that much, he supposed.
Ren takes the lead up the stairs to their room after dragging his soaked cloak off the table to hand to the barkeep for laundering. The room is minimally decorated: two beds on opposite ends of the room. He does not doubt that she is glad for that. But, as for insurance, he closes the door behind her, and begins stacking his armor there at the door. It would make a racket if she tried to move it at all. By the time he has finished, he has left himself with a damp tunic and pants.
And then he turns to test the mattress. Hard, but better than a tent outdoors.]
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She watched him remove each piece to add to the tower, a terrible pit forming in her stomach. There was the window to consider — a tiny thing that only opened outwards and probably had no ledge. She might break her arm worse going out that way, but it would be her only option if she didn't want Versio and LeHuse to wake up after she'd stuck their master like a pig. ]
Given you're not a prisoner, I'll wager no ravens had arrived for Lord Hux. [ She took a seat on the bed, holding her sling carefully to her chest so she didn't let the knife slip free awkwardly. She didn't want to lose it while she stripped off her boots with her one free hand. ] So what was the bad news?
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[He communicates that easily, even as he removes his tunic with his back to her in order to wring it out on the floor. A sizable downpour comes forth. Pieces of his back show old signs of lashings -- at least several months old, joined by other marks of war. Slash scars, arrowhead piercings.]
I dislike him. Very much.
[And then he is slipping his tunic back on before she can digest anything she'd managed to see and climbing onto the bed. His pants aren't quite as wet, but he's also not going to strip down in front of Rey -- prisoner or not.]
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Without meaning to, Rey found herself staring up at the too-pale plane of his back. They were almost drowned by the plethora of other scars, but no. Rey knew the signs of them because she had felt them. Her uninjured hand came up to rest at her shoulder in silent thought, but as soon as he shrugged his tunic back on, she had dropped her hand, unwilling to give herself away.
It didn't matter what they had in common. Their differences were a wide valley, quite substantial enough to make up for them. She didn't have a chance to do anything with the flicker of doubt about whether he planned to do the same with his pants before he was getting on his bed.
Rey relaxed visibly, though she couldn't say why. ]
Why do you dislike him?
[ From that alone, she suspected she might like Lord Hux if she met him. She settled down onto her bed on her uninjured side, which meant staring across the room at him instead of at the wall. The rain had made the night chilly — chillier — so she pulled the blankets up around her despite the damp of her clothes. The innkeeper might just forgive her. ]
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[It comes out like snake venom, hissed on his tongue under a barely restrained temper. A short exhale comes after as he tries to silence his opinions on the good Lord Hux. She did not need this information, and he did not need help being incriminated. Lord Hux held a prestigious military position in the Crownlands -- if it came down between him and Lord Hux, the King would choose Hux and find a new Lord Commander.
He doesn't need Rey to know that. He's certain he hasn't endeared her that much -- she's just as soon turn him over in hopes that she'd have an easier time getting away from Hux than himself.]
It does not matter. You hardly need any help disliking nobility yourself.
[He'd seen plenty of the looks that she'd thrown all of them, after all. The attitude she carried, like she was noble-born herself.]
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[ Narrowing her eyes at him made her feel worse, somehow. If he chose to conclude that she simply disliked nobility, let him. For tonight, at least, she could bite her tongue. ]
I'm tired.
[ And she was. Her legs were sore from riding, and though she was glad for the chance to make the most of the inn's bar downstairs, she probably should have foregone it to rest in the first place. Ren's mood would undoubtedly only grow worse with his own fatigue, so she was ready to say goodbye to this sour conversation.
To this sour man.
She shut her eyes, ready to feign sleep for long enough for him to drift off. ]
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[It isn’t necessarily a bitter reply, even if everything that comes out of his mouth sounds bitter in one way or another. Ren lays down not long after she does, but he takes ages to fall asleep. There is quite a lot of tossing and turning involved — the bed is too small for him, among other more common problems.
It is not the sleep of a man with a clear conscious.]
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Her eyes opened, and she exhaled slowly, watching him.
He didn't seem to stir at that, so she sat up, pulling the knife from her sling. It wasn't sharp. Too old, not intended for this purpose. She'd have to hit hard.
How hard? She'd never stabbed a man before. Sitting up in the dead of night, knife in hand, staring down at his restless form, she decided it'd have to be the neck. It would be the easiest, the most likely to kill him quickly and quietly. Right? She thought of that slaver she'd been riding with. The way his blood had gurgled bright and red out of his throat.
She wanted to cry. He hadn't been innocent, either, but it had still been horrible to see. It had still been wrong for them to do. But this wasn't wrong — it's the only choice she had. She got up off the bed and walked for his. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet, and she stood over Ren's bed.
By now her hand was shaking on the knife, and she pulled off her sling so she could steady it with her injured arm too. She had to get it right the first time. The second, at the very most. He was larger than her and stronger. If he woke up, he would kill her, and she would be forgotten. Probably not even buried, but cast into the sea for convenience's sake. Treated like garbage.
Not for the first time.
She gripped the knife in both hands, raised it over him and drew a deep breath. But she stopped before completing the motion. Her arms didn't want to budge.
She couldn't kill a man in his bed, in his sleep. Maybe the redcloaks could forget their oaths and their honor, and maybe in dealing with them, she ought to. But she couldn't. She didn't have that kind of evil in her, no matter what the world around them called for. ]
Fuck. [ She hissed it out, dropping the knife and backing off one, two steps. ]
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She was going to kill him. Of course she was.
His grip tightens fiercely on the hilt as he sits up, pursuing her until she is within reach and grabbing her good arm defensively.]
You—
[His snarl is practically draconic, chest heaving with murderous intent as he points the knife at her.
—but he had expected this, hadn’t he? He made the grave mistake of leaving her alone where she had access to a weapon, and then trapped her in a room woth him. He had set up his own murder and was now somehow surprised by it.
His hand trembles briefly before the knife slips out of his hand, but he does not release her.]
—lost...your nerve.
[He breathes it out, trying and failing to wrangle his anger.]
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Whatever other self-flagellation she had prepared had no time to take hold of her. Rey watched as his eyes snapped open, glinting in the dim moonlight that filtered through the window with a murderous fury. He was dazed. She almost got out of his grip, but — A yelp made its way from her as his grip closed around her uninjured arm.
Her good arm. Not the one that would bring her down, screaming in agony.
The knife thunked against the floorboards as he dropped it too. Reason and observation shouted for her to calm herself, to look at the fact, to see that he was not going to kill her but instinct drove her on anyway, wrestling in his grip. She even brought up her bad arm to try and pry his grip loose. All the while she thought of the Kingswood. She had lost her nerve there too. If she had killed herself then ... But she hadn't done that either. Because she was an idiot. A brave idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. ]
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And then, he strides to the window, forces its lime-ridden hatches open, and throws it outside. When that is done, he shuts the window with a hard sound of metal on stone. His men would ask him about it in the morning, no doubt.
Ren offers her one last baleful, venom laced stare before he stalks back to his bed to return to sleep. In no universe would she be able to lift anything heavy enough to bludgeon him to death, and she had no chance of wriggling out of the room with her arm in a sling.
Sleep would not come, too sick with rage and paranoia, but he did not speak to her again.]
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She couldn't help but think he had no right to his anger and surprise. Never had she masked her hatred for him, her desire to escape. What did he think she would do? And what would he do, now that he had apparently misplaced trust in her supposed willingness to be in his company? Back to the way he had been that first day, she supposed. Dragging her around by the throat and threatening her and refusing to hear anything she said.
All she'd done was make things harder on herself. She'd never be able to kill him while he was conscious, and she didn't have it in her to kill him while he was sleeping. Where'd that leave her? Stuck. With him, leading him on his merry way to Luke Skywalker.
She sat back on her bunk, numb and disconnected. It took a few moments' silence before she tried to instigate some explanation for herself. ]
Did you expect me to rejoice in my circumstances?
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