So long, Princess
Friendly disclaimer : Don't read if you didn't get to see the Last Jedi yet.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
In the last strands of the vanishing night, life was coming anew. The sun was indolently rising on Theed, faint lights showing in between delicate curtains and half-closed blinds. It was a warm dawn; a day like a thousand to come. There were no such things as hostile temperatures in Naboo, where everything was beautiful, preserved and refined, and Rey felt out of place.
The turmoil swirling inside of her was nearly suffocating, threatening to swallow her whole. She had felt this kind of confusion only once before, back when she was just a child, and it kept bringing her back to Jakku. She was at the end of a push-and-pull game, wracked beyond recognition by her own emotions. Did she ever escape from the endless desert?
The air smelled of burnt wood and points of no return, the breeze carrying hints of flowers and incense to her nose as if it was trying to wipe it all away. She had been standing near the Funerary temple all night, watching the darkness rise and fall on the city across the valley, without blinking an eye, still as a statue.
She could almost hear again the prayers and the songs, the sobs and the chants, despite the rumble of her thoughts. In these moments, it was so hard to cling to the Light, its guidance as fine as a thread, with no comfort for the lost. There was no room for her pain, no space for her to yell and despair – she had to be a beacon of strength, radiant and proud.
The morning wind started to blow stronger, carrying away the last night clouds on the vale. Fog was lifting from the shores of the peaceful river stretching in between the large buildings of the city, revealing small boats, and carriages. Squinting, she could see people strolling out of their houses to start their day. It all seemed so trivial. She couldn't help but bear with the sudden flare of anger that rippled through her, shaking her to the bone. It was strong, and raw – but she had lost so many already, to a war with no end.
Han. Luke. Leia.
She still had her burnt torch hanging by the tip of her fingers, alongside her body. It had covered her palm in ash and splinters, however she had been holding onto it tightly for a good part of the night, relaxing her hand only hours later.
She had lit the pyre alongside Poe, holding hands not to collapse. Chewie, Finn, Rose, and what was left of the crumbling Resistance behind them, they had held hands until they couldn't bear it anymore, face stricken with tears drying up almost instantly. They had stepped back and left one by one during the night, but Rey stayed.
The fire went on for hours, relentless, licking the body of the General away in heavy puffs of smoke. Soon there was nothing left of the great Leia Organa, not a piece of cloth nor a chunk of gold – only embers and bittersweet memories. Rey had faced the marble platform where the funeral pyre had been laid out until the wind blew every single spark away. Her eyes followed the ashes gliding alongside pines and flowers and disappearing into the natural surroundings, wondering whether memories would be enough for the Resistance to survive.
The past six months had all been about rebuilding. Taking refuge in the Outer Rim, they had scrambled back on their feet, from outpost to outpost, recruiting, finding weapons and materials. Leia had been, as always, a beacon, but Poe had taken most of the operational direction under her guidance. She had helped Rey with her Jedi training as well, mostly by talking to her when everything seemed just too hard, or too lonely – she was a true embodiment of Light, and would have had been a great Jedi, the scavenger had recognised.
It seemed however that, as the Resistance was rising back on its feet, Leia was slowly fading away. Her strength was diminishing, and they all realised her time in the cold space had taken a heavy toll on her body. Soon, she could not get out of bed, despite her best efforts and fierce spirit. Soon, it had been time to say goodbye.
Rey held back a whimper as tears threatened to fall once more, the rising sun behind her cloaking the funeral temple and Theed in a golden hue. The grandeur of the tall buildings and their emerald, rounded roofs reaching for the clouds made her feel so out of place. How could anyone be stricken with such heavy thoughts, here where beauty and harmony was everywhere on display? It made her look so hideous, ungrateful, spoiled, deviant. Where there was supposed to be only harmony and grace, she was a disaster, a bundle of confusion and pain.
Her meagre teachings were of no refuge: the Force felt hollow and unreachable, cold and above all things. In the midst of it she was insignificant and in dissonance, both too loud and too small to fit anywhere. She felt so alone, once more. Abandoned. It was like the most painful reminder: no matter how hard she tried, she would not be permitted any parental figures. Like her parents discarding her like junk, all of her loved ones would fade away, leaving her standing here, on the ashes. She would not be allowed any love, any affection. It was her, the scavenger, on her own, lost in a boundless desert.
She came from nothing. She was nothing.
She felt a nudge at the back of her head, soft as a caress. She had managed to keep him away since their last encounter on Crait, ignoring his incessant pleas and prods, at the cost of her own lucidity. She had been so angry at him, so bitter – not really the Jedi way, she was aware, and somehow it flared her irritation. He had been so close. So close from redemption, so close to get back to his mother before it would be too late. So close to her.
She had managed to scrape away Kylo Ren, piece by piece, with his own help. There, she had found Ben Solo, buried away under layers of hatred and pain, and had been irrationally pulled to him. They were so different, yet exactly similar. Two sides of the same coin, forged from the same fire. Loneliness, survival. His betrayal, ludicrous proposal, and attack on Luke made her despise him with all she had – because that time, she cared.
While she had stood silently in front of the pyre, he was remarkably insistent, yet incredibly gentle. He came in checking at the boundaries of her mind, probably drawn by her confusion and the havoc of her thoughts. He could sense something was unusual, and had prodded her mind carefully, looking for an answer. She could feel him, feel his consideration, and somehow it stirred it all within her. She feared that as soon as he would learn his mother was dead, Ben Solo would never come back. However, she craved for a connection, an understanding.
Without anything much than a passing thought, her worn-out spirit did something for the first time in 6 months – it let him in.
They both stood silently by the now cold marble platform. She could sense him behind her, hear his ragged breath, too sharp and stifled to mean anything else than his utter surprise. She could feel it, too, clearer than before – his own emotions, his anger, resentment, pain, loneliness, wonder.
"Why now?" he murmured.
She wanted both to hurt and comfort him, and did not know which way to go yet. She knew he could grasp her own turmoil better, and it wouldn't take long before he would realise why she was here, and why she was so upset. She let a few seconds pass by before speaking up, her voice hoarse and rough.
"Can you see where I am?"
"Only you", he replied softly, before adding, cautious: "What is going on, Rey?"
She drew one long, ragged breath, her fingers tightening on what was left of her torch. She felt the splinters pierce her skin and kept her eyes on the beautiful city ahead, sprawled under the morning light.
"It's beautiful here" she started. "I've never seen a city like this before."
"Where are you?"
She could feel his irritation growing under her silence, somehow with a hint of worry.
"Do you ever miss your mother?'
"What is going on. Answer me."
"Do you miss her?", she insisted as she turned around to face him, all pain, anger, and despair.
Ben looked at her, probably taking in her traits, red-puffed eyes and pallid cheeks, bearing the weight of six months on the run and unbearable loss. She could feel the Dark side looming around him, crashing in waves against his mind and hers. However, where he embraced freely his passion, and drawn strength from it – she could feel his, nearly suffocating- she was burying everything under thick layers of denial and unsteady acceptance.
He did not say a word, looking at her as if she was an indecipherable book to pry open. She relaxed her hand holding her torch, feeling both appeased and threatened by his apparent calm demeanour.
She felt it again. The Pull. Towards the Dark side. Towards him.
"I am at Theed", she conceded. "Leaving soon."
She could not risk compromising the whole Resistance to him. It was easy to forget that the man in front of her was the Supreme Leader of an order bent on destroying everything left she held dear. In that moment though, he was just Ben – and she could trust him, to an extent. She felt it in her bones, and his.
He closed briefly his eyes, accepting.
"Beautiful, indeed", he agreed. "My grandmother is buried here. She was a Queen. Her mausoleum is near the temple, on…"
"…The other side of the vale", Rey completed. "The view on Theed is breath-taking here."
She sensed his confusion grow stronger, with hints of anger and apprehension. Part of her marvelled at the rich details she was able to grasp of his psyche. What game was the Force playing?
"Rey. What is going on?", he repeated, this time more pressing.
She looked down at her hands, blackened by ashes and stricken with her dried blood, remaining silent. Without a word, eyes down, she opened them slowly to reveal the burnt torch. He remained puzzled for an instant, but then, like a bolt of lightning, she felt it. Understanding rippled through him, accompanied with flares of anger, resentment, flooding himself with guilt, to finally leave the path open to the raw, sizzling, unbearable pain. Her emotions were mirroring his, and the Force bond between them hummed through their shared agony.
She lifted her eyes to his, tears flowing freely on her cheeks, trying to find in him glints of humanity, comfort, understanding.
"I am sorry", she whispered. "I… I felt so alone."
Ben was silent, his eyes still fixed on her small, dirty hands. Could he smell the ashes and the incense still floating in the air? Could he hear the noises of Theed coming back to life, did he feel the same overpowering need to crush them for simply being alive, while she wasn't anymore? She could sense the jumbled thoughts of messed up, chaotic emotions dancing around him, fed by the Dark side, and she relished in it greedily. She could blame it on him, this temptation, this flow of unbearable, uncontrolled anger. She was almost untouched, pure, righteous. She felt guilt wrenching her own gut. He had just lost his mother. Part of her was almost relieved at his grief - he was still here, somewhere, Ben Solo, orphan just like her. And she needed Ben Solo to tell her how to move on.
"Leave."
She abruptly raised her eyes to his, startled.
"Ben?"
"I said, leave", he uttered, looking away from her. "You have ten minutes before I call all First Order forces upon you and your lot."
She was lost at words. He finally locked eyes with her, as she felt his pain swell through her, crushing, suffocating.
"Go, now." He said, but this time added: "Please."
Silently, she nodded, ashamed and beaten. She was about to leave the headland, when he spoke once more, softer yet more bitter.
"And Rey", he called, "next time you want to use me to ease your pain … don't. Embrace it. You won't be able to deny all of this if you really wish to get stronger."
His image faded, but his emotions remained, reverberating through her as she went down the thousand steps to join the Falcon, where everyone would wake soon. Stricken with tears, heavy with the burden of two souls' sorrow, she felt troubled like she never had been before. She came to him, in a moment of weakness, revealed her position, and put everyone in danger, all for comfort. Intimacy. Recognition.
The uneasy feeling in her stomach wouldn't go away. Was it hers, Bens', or theirs? She couldn't even tell anymore.
Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
Hey there. I've done something.
Been obsessed with The Last Jedi and had to get this out of my head. Still working on Bushido, no worries on that, if you had any.
Consider this a Christmas treat. I've pictured what would be, for me, the first scene of Ep IX. Argh, 2019 can't come soon enough.
Love, uglypotato