Chapter 1: Cinderella

"She thought that it was no later than eleven when she counted the clock striking twelve. She jumped up and fled, as nimble as a deer. The prince followed, but could not overtake her. She left behind one of her glass slippers, which the prince picked up most carefully. [...] he was very much in love with the beautiful person who owned the glass slipper."

- Cinderella, by Charles Perrault

"Excuse me! Do you think you could find a better time?!" Rey gasped, clasping her tunic in front of her chest.

Kylo's brain blanked. Master Snoke's training had not prepared him for this.

"Go away!" Rey snapped at his stunned look. A brief flash of bare skin above a simple pair of sleeping pants and Kylo's composure had deserted him faster than an X-wing jumping into hyperspace. Everything he had planned to say to her after the events on Crait flew out of his head.

Rey glanced around as if looking for something to throw at him. He couldn't see her surroundings, as usual, but he was abruptly overcome with a deep sense of unease—the kind only a young man could feel upon intruding in what must have been the sleeping quarters of a powerful, beautiful young woman. Without invitation.

"Go away? You're the one standing in my private quarters," he threw back. And so she was, from his point of view. An almost-ready-for-bed Rey was standing in the middle of his living room. An uncomfortable pin-prick warmth started creeping up Kylo's cheeks. He quietly cursed his pale skin.

"Like that's my fault! I can't control this connection. Now turn around!"

"It's not like I can either," he said as coolly as he could manage, turning to present his back to her and hide the rising flush on his face.

"Hhmp!"

A flap of cloth as she tugged on more layers of clothing. The sound of a leather belt being secured around her waist. And then… Nothing.

A long silence stretched between them.

"Uh…" a slight cough, "you can turn around now."

Since when had he needed her permission to do anything? He decided not to pursue that question further.

They stood on opposite sides of his stark living room, eyeing each other, wary. Not for the first time, Kylo was struck by how different they were, and how much it showed. Where his clothes were all tailored lines and expensive fabrics, hers were rough cloth and coarse stitching. Hastily secured, her belt only emphasized that her sleeping clothes were too big for her. Investing in appropriate uniforms was no doubt rather low on the Resistance's priority list. And her hair… He knew his hair was naturally a little… windswept… but with her hair pulled back in efficient but messy loops, Rey could have passed for a menial worker from an undeveloped planet. Which, he supposed, she once was. Yes, surrounded by the sleek aesthetic of the First Order, Rey looked very out of place. They were opposites in so many ways.

And yet…

And yet staring into her eyes and feeling the same gut-churning emotions running through her that ran through him, he found himself unable to focus on their differences.

"You should know," Rey began, raising her chin and drawing herself up to her full height, "even if you had succeeded on Crait, there will always be people who oppose the First Order. Even Luke, who had sworn to never get involved again, gave his life to keep our spark of hope alive. People remember, Ben. They remember what life was like before. They remember peace. And they want it again."

Rather than listen to her words, he listened to the telltale signs of her discomfort. The way her hands couldn't keep still. The way the muscles in her cheeks flexed when she paused between sentences. He could tell she was trying to ignore her doubts and fulfill the role the Resistance had thrust upon her. Pointless, he thought. She couldn't fool him when they were linked so closely. How many times had his mother paraded Rey through rooms of Resistance sympathizers in the last months, he wondered, spouting the same lines she was now reciting to him? How many had been dazzled by Rey—the young (and beautiful, his heart whispered) Jedi, poster girl of the Resistance? And how many had believed her words as wholeheartedly as he knew she doubted herself.

"Snoke is gone now." Only the barest of flinches betrayed the sudden anger that rose within him. "I don't know how my vision of your future will come true, but I know the Resistance can't be stopped."

The way she spoke of the Resistance and the First Order reminded him of the old Senators he had known as a child—how they had puffed themselves up before droning on about how if only everyone in the galaxy understood their simple reasoning, everyone's problems would be solved.

Rey stopped suddenly. Her nose wrinkled. "How in the name of the Stars am I like a fat Neimoidian?"

Kylo froze.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said stiffly.

"A fat Naimoidian," repeated Rey. "You just thought that I'm like that fat Neimoidian Senator you knew."

His stomach sunk. How did she know that? Never before had they been able to pick up on each other's specific thoughts—only feel general emotions. Was their Force-bond growing stronger?

Something distinctly her nudged his mind as she reached out through Force. Reflexively, he threw up mental barriers. His curiously begged him to explore this new development, too, but he had no intention of accidentally letting her slip into his mind again. The consequences of the first time that happened stood before him, getting angrier by the moment.

The corners of Rey's lips turned down as she explored the new wall between them.

"I assume you didn't mean to share that thought?"

"No, I didn't."

Her eyebrows drew down in a deep slash. "I don't know why or how I heard you, but I did and I want an answer to my question."

Force help him, she had that determined look on her face again. "It's complicated." There. That was sufficiently aloof.

"You're complicated," she shot back.

"It was just a rough comparison." He waved a hand dismissively. "It didn't mean anything."

"Ben," she growled.

Why couldn't she call him Kylo?

"It was just a similarity that doesn't mean anything."

"So I remind you of a fat old toad?" She demanded, previous embarrassment and stiff manner forgotten. He wished he could have said it was an improvement, but he honestly would have preferred continuing to watch her lie to herself than try and dig himself out of this one.

"No, I didn't say that."

"But you thought it," she pressed.

"Yes, fine, you reminded me of him, but just in the way you were—"

Thwack.

A heavy standard-issue boot connected with his forehead.

"Oh get lost!"

Rey disappeared from his living quarters.

Shocked, Ben stumbled backwards and collapsed onto his couch. That was not how he had envisioned their next meeting. He touched the pulsing spot above his brow, feeling anger rising up in him, burning through him, steadying him. He had offered her everything, they could have—

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her muddy boot laying on the pristine black floor.

The next moment it was flying through the air. With a loud smack that echoed through his quarters, it hit the wall and fell to the floor. Ragged breaths tore themselves from his chest.

He froze.

The boot.

Kylo crossed the room, knelt, and picked up the boot with both hands. It had actually hit him. And it had remained with him even though their connection had closed. He reached out with the Force. Nothing. Just a regular boot in need of a wash. His curiosity tempered his anger.

As seemed as though the more they connected through the Force, the stronger their connection became. There had to be some tactical advantage to that, he thought. Although this meeting hadn't gone according to plan, he could still use this knowledge. He just needed to think.

And about Rey.

And about her sleeping attire.

And lack thereof.

He knelt there for several minutes, cradling the boot in his palms, before looking up, flummoxed. What the hell was he supposed to do with a dirty old Resistance boot on a First Order ship?

Author's notes:

1. Looks like our Prince might not be returning "Cinderella's slipper." But he is dead-set on seeing her again...

2. #Reylo. I get that this is an unhealthy relationship. This is also fiction. I can't help but love the things I love. And everyday I am increasingly obsessed. I've seen The Last Jedi three times in theatres… so far.

3. Also, hello. So I haven't published on this site for literally ever. Oops. Apologies to anyone who is following my other stories.