Chapter Ten: Invitation

Behind his mask, Kylo Ren snarled a smile that no one could see.

So many had come.

At a glance, the starships could have been stars. Void of the chaos of nature, their steadily pulsating lights moved with precision, sometimes slipping out of sight as the myriad ships approached the lonely planet. It was a delicate dance, pressing for precedence while trying to remain a cautious distance from the others-some allies, some enemies, some undeclared.

But they had come, a mere two years after the destruction of Hosnian Prime and the New Republic, to begin to build a new government in earnest. A government that would include a legitimized First Order. A government that would—eventually—be controlled by Leader Snoke.

And Skywalker would be on that planet to oversee the talks, if he wasn't already. Ren's Master had foreseen it.

"Are we on schedule?" Hux asked, his voice calm despite the anticipation radiating from him. Ren glanced askance at the General, whose eyes gleamed as he surveyed the single metroplex of the planet below. Night edged toward this hemisphere, the lights of the capitol blazing within a swath of uninhabited darkness. Remote in the far southern reaches of the main continent, the illumination of the single city, their destination, shone like a beacon for the approaching ships.

A waiting technician checked a display screen before replying in the affirmative.

"Good. I'll meet you at the rendezvous point." Hux backed from the viewport, scrutinizing Ren's uniform in a sweeping, disapproving glance that Ren didn't acknowledge. "Remember that the goal here is not overt intimidation, Commander."

"You do your part, General, and I'll do mine."

Hux sniffed and whirled away, his heels clipping smartly on the polished floor as he headed toward his awaiting transport frigate, the technician dogging his steps.

Ren checked himself as the Force rippled around him, and smothered the sense that was him from the perception of others. General Organa would be there, in the designated meeting place, ready to throw her diplomatic will against the rest of them. Resistance ragtag would no doubt accompany her. And perhaps even—

"Take off that mask."

Ren spun, his dark cloak whirling at the movement. Though he was alone, the observation deck silent and dark around him, the voice echoed in his mind.

"Take off that mask," it insisted, confident and serene. "You don't need it."

Kenobi. But Skywaker wasn't here, now, to play these mind games. A blue light flickered in the corridor beyond and Ren stalked toward the haloed figure he knew he'd find there—but the corridor, too, was empty.

"The Force flows strong within you. Feel it. Trust its guidance." At the voice's urging, Ren's hands lifted toward the seal of his helmet. With a hiss, the servomotors disengaged. He had the helmet pulled halfway from his head before he realized what he was doing. Silently cursing Kenobi's tricks, Ren jammed the helmet back into position. He drew in a long breath, the tang of the helmet's filtered air sharp on his tongue. When he looked back up, the blue-auraed specter of Kenboi stood behind him, his reflection sober.

"Go to that planet not as a warrior, but as a diplomat. Just as your mother is, and her mother before her. That is your legacy," Kenobi said, more somber than Ren had ever heard him. "Choose—"

Whatever Kenobi wanted Ren to choose, he didn't hear. Ren spun, one fluid motion igniting his lightsaber and bringing down into a deadly arc. Its brilliant blue blade dashed apart that of the aura, splintering blinding shards of light like fractals throughout the room. His even breathing did not betray his racing heart, the doubt rising within him like a tide threatening to drown him. He tried to smother the light ripping at him, calling him, before it tore him apart.

He had to be impenetrable.

Face the truth. Trust the Force. It wasn't Ren's voice repeating the mantra. But when his vision cleared, Kenobi was gone.

The transparent-steel chamber dwarfed the dozens of diplomats meeting within it, engulfing them like bubble of air frozen into a fortress. Fountains trickled down the curve of its walls, the waterfalls' spray partly obscuring the wild plains surrounding the delicate structure. Ringed railings encircled the higher levels of the sphere, creating open air meeting spaces between the waterfalls. Arched bridges spanned the railings like indestructible webs, intersecting once per level to form balconies suspended over the forested floor below.

The various security details perched on those balconies eyed one another as furtively as they eyed the rival diplomats as Rey stepped behind the curtain of one of the waterfalls to watch the vicious wind batter at the plains beyond. Two blade-like shuttles skimmed the grasses, cutting neatly through the air currents as they rose to intercept what should be the last delegation to the peace talks: The First Order.

Rey tracked the shuttle as it landed within a side-bubble hangar so far around the building's curve that she had to strain to see it. After a moment, a formation of stormtroopers marched down the gangplank, flanking a tall, red-haired man.

General Hux.

Rey blew out a breath, mentally chiding herself for growing tense. Of course it would be Hux, and not—and not—

"Rey."

She resisted touching a finger to the earpiece hidden in her right ear, and keyed the thumb switch to open the comm. She spoke naturally, the small piece of synthetic flesh adhered to the skin of her neck translating the vibrations of her throat into sound. "Yes?"

"The meeting just adjourned," Finn said, and she could hear him smiling, wherever it was he was hidden to spy on the proceedings, protecting those who truly came in peace.

"Right. Of course. Thanks." Rey slipped down the nearest winding staircase, stepping out into the jungle of the building's floor. Surrounded by a cluster of security detail, General Organa lagged behind in the meeting room, flipping through data on her holopad. Its bright screen deepened the lines of her face and highlighted the gray tendrils of hair swept up into a fierce braid atop her head.

"Be advised," Rey said into her comm, "that the First Order just landed."

Rey would have bet all her credits that Finn reached down to check his blaster as he replied, "Copy that."

Why the First Order had been trusted with an invitation, Rey couldn't imagine. She switched off the mic of her comm and sighed as she turned to follow the General's retinue to the next in a seemingly endless stream of meetings. The General offered Rey a wan smile as she fell in with the rest of the security detail.

"General, the First Order—"

Leia Organa held up a hand. "I know. I heard."

"I don't sense… anything out of the ordinary." Him, she'd almost said. Ren. Tendrils of relief crept out from the General's usual reserve; clearly, she dreaded a public reunion with her estranged son. And damn her, Rey was glad that Leia wasn't trained enough in the Force to sense Rey's own conflicted disappointment that Ren wouldn't be there.

"I have a bad feeling about this," the General murmured dryly, then drew up her shoulders and spoke to the aide at her side. "Let's go."

~.~

What had been the day's meeting hall transformed, by night, into an oasis.

The banquet tables hovered over tiles of white marble interspersed with bioluminescent pebbles that challenged the very starlight with their pearly glow. The jungle foliage pressed closed to the edge of the marble pavilion, lit from within by vibrant violet lichen clinging to the tree trunks. Above, fireflies—Rey wasn't sure if they were real, or cleverly-designed illumination droids—flitted over the long tables and into the leaves of the trees, rising to mingle with the spray from the waterfalls.

And beyond shone countless stars, wheeling in unknown constellations above the expansive plain that Rey wished she had the freedom to explore.

Instead, she folded her hands into the brown robe that declared her as a Jedi Apprentice. Each delegation had been allowed to send three representatives to the banquet, and General Organa had asked Rey to accompany herself and Major Brance—as more of a token, she suspected, than as an actual player in the diplomatic game. While the others networked and plotted, Rey hung back in the shadows, watching, her senses sweeping outward for hints of betrayal or danger.

She felt the subtle shifting in the Force a moment before the wide double-doors to the hall drew open.

Icy determination washed into the room as General Hux swept into it, his two First Order companions equally tall and imperious as they dogged his step. The blue-skinned Chiss at the place of honor on Hux's right flank strode straight-backed into the room, impervious to the curious eyes watching him as fiercely as he scrutinized them. Perhaps the presence of one of the rare Chiss was meant to astound the other diplomats, and indeed they eyed his gray military uniform with open curiosity, its lapels weighted with the ornaments of the Chiss' achievements. Rey must have been the only one who watched as Hux's second companion paused on the threshold to scan the crowd.

The black First Order uniform accentuated his lean prowess, made him appear even more the predator as he stalked the periphery of the room. With his dark hair combed back from his face, the scar slanting across his face proclaimed his identify—as though Rey could ever doubt who this man was. Her chest tightened, gripped suddenly by that binding of light and fire inexplicably lashing them together.

Lacking his iconic armor and helmet, with all hint of his presence in the Force tucked away, even General Organa didn't spare the black-clad man a second look as Hux weaved his way through the center of the room.

All by design.

Rey triggered her comm. "Kylo Ren is accompanying Hux and the Chiss ambassador to the banquet. Intercepting him."

The various comm channels Rey was keyed into exploded with rapid-fire chatter, but Rey listened with the barest concentration as Ren strode toward her. At the table before her, Major Brance straightened, then leaned in to whisper something to General Organa. She stiffened, laying her hands flat on the tabletop, but was far too self-possessed to look back at Ren. Whispers rose like the rustling of the trees surrounding them as the other diplomats slowly realized that the legendary Kylo Ren walked among them.

Rey didn't doubt that Ren sensed her; though he studied everyone else in the room, he marched straight toward her. She tightened the shields around her heart and mind, automatically beginning the breathing exercises for calm. Clasping her hands behind her back, she stepped forward onto the glowing path ringing the room, blocking his path as she turned toward him.

"Commander Ren," she said, her voice too sharp to be considered diplomatic. "I'm not sure if anonymity suits you."

"What anonymity, Rey?" He paused, shoulders loose and relaxed as he crossed his arms, looking for all the galaxy as though he was bored, as though he couldn't sense the curiosity and the stinging gaze of almost every person in the room trained on them. He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I'm not here to hide."

It had been two years. Two years without a breach, without a mental slip. Two years of rumors of his misdeeds aiding Snoke, of being one step behind him—or one step ahead—while the Resistance and the First Order circled around one another. She should have been numb to him by now.

And yet the fire burning in those dark eyes seared straight through every shield, conjuring memory and such an undeniable heat in the marrow of her soul that she gasped as the want clutched her.

"So that's the point," she said, talking simply to try to buy herself time to regain her composure. "Your presence is supposed to goad us. You want someone to slip up, to try something foolish—to ruin any chance of peaceful compromise."

"Careful," he challenged with the shadow of a grin, and Rey knew he wasn't speaking of diplomacy nor of the ages-long fight waged between the Light side of the Force, and the Dark. "I'm sure they're wondering just how long you and I can behave ourselves. Unfounded accusations won't bode well for either of us, and the whole galaxy is watching."

There was something of a warning hidden among the political draperies, but Rey had no patience for it. Two years, and this was how it had to be between them?

She raised her chin, keenly aware of the Resistance listening in on the conversation through her comm, of the security personnel edging closer, of the faltering small talk between the diplomats—even Hux watched them now. She took a step closer to Ren without really realizing it. Her hand slid around to her waist to grip her lightsaber as though it was safer to threaten him with its blade than threaten herself by touching him.

His eyes dipped down, noting her reach. "Careful," he said again, before stepping back. And then, after inclining his head at her in a salute that lacked any hint of mockery, he walked away.

A voice penetrated the turmoil in her mind. "What," asked Finn, keying in on a private channel, "was that?"

Skywalker hadn't come.

Ren thumbed off his lightsaber and forced himself to stop pacing. The long, complicated sequence of blade drills and acrobatics hadn't burned off his irritation, but as he knelt on the lush carpets of the room he had been assigned and stared out into the fringes of the plains, what little he could see of the shifting wind patterns slicing through the waving grass calmed his mind.

Skywalker hadn't come. But Rey had. And in a way, she'd been right: Hux did want Ren here as a lure, his presence designed to flaunt his escape from the Resistance and throw them off their stride.

He'd feared that by now, Rey's Jedi training would have obliterated any remnant of her feeling for him—that it hadn't only made controlling his own feelings harder. He squared his shoulders, fighting against the sudden weight of expectation bowing him over. Her expectations, her judgements, her safety. They haunted him, as did memories of her touch, her bright eyes, her dogged grin. Deadly, damning testaments of what he could never admit, and could never forget. Rey.

He closed his eyes, his mind inevitably conjuring memories that had his blood racing again. He'd sensed her presence from the moment he disembarked his shuttle—but seeing her had nearly undone all his mental preparations. Dressed in the brown robes of a Jedi, she'd grown more slender and strong throughout her training, and looked at him with the same intimate, utter defiance as always—except now, he knew what she tasted like. He knew how she felt with her legs wrapped around his waist, kissing him with desperation as she melded with him—

Ren groaned and stood again, beginning another round of calisthenics that should long have dashed his vibrant fantasies into the pallor of exhaustion. He panted as he levered himself down to balance on one hand, his body already flushed and primed from his drills. A traitorous, hot jet of desire injected into his bloodstream, and his cock twitched and grew so hard it ached. He ached, remembering the jolt of lust and longing that had risen from her as she reached not for him, but instead for her lightsaber, as though that could help her fight off something she couldn't control, and all he'd wanted to do was lift her into his arms and pin her against the nearest tree trunk.

He blew out a slow breath, trying to control his breathing. He would defeat this.

The door chimed and Ren swore, then carefully shifted his weight so that be balanced on his left hand, leaving his right free for his lightsaber if needed.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to disturb you, Commander," said the trooper leading the security detail, her voice muffled through her helmet and stifled by the door between them.

"Enter, Captain."

Ren gathered himself and flipped to his feet, summoning a towel as the door to his chamber opened into the ceiling. The trooper waited as he ran the towel through his damp hair, then pulled on a robe to cover his bare torso. "Report."

The Captain stepped forward, letting the door slide shut behind her. "You asked to be informed if the Jedi moved outside of the boundary designated to the Resistance delegation." She held out a data pad, the silver carapace of her rank flashing in his room's low light. "She did, but we've got her under surveillance. Do you want us to—"

"No," Ren said, tugging the data pad from her grip with the Force. Of course Rey had left the security of the Resistance quarters; she was far too headstrong to let herself be corralled. If Hux learned of it, she was on a straight course to getting herself killed or captured. Hot disbelief at her recklessness dripped down his neck before freezing into an icy, barely-suppressed rage in the pit of his stomach.

He turned the data pad over in trembling fingers, then clipped it to his belt next to his lightsaber. "Leave the Jedi to me."

Rey shouldn't have been there.

The public meeting places were strictly off limits during the nighttime hours. But the sweeping droids had come and gone, ridding the great hollow space of any illicit surveillance devices, and none had tried to dislodge her from her perch.

She sat cross-legged on the tallest of the suspended bridges, almost at the apex of the round ceiling, sorting through her thoughts and trying to banish all emotion as she waited patiently for the unobstructed spectacle of dawn rising over the plains.

Ren found her before the dawn did.

When he queried her through the Force, it was gentle enough that she could have ignored it. She should have ignored it, taken that brush against her mind and quelled it with the rest of the roiling emotions she was systematically attempting to untangle and obliterate. Instead she'd glanced down, and there among the shadows gathering around the wall of the room, he stood watching her.

And everything she'd been meditating for hours to suppress came rushing back to her.

Dressed in an understated black jumpsuit devoid of any First Order insignia, he appeared almost too formal wearing polished black gloves and boots, together with his enveloping black cloak. A lightsaber—the lightsaber she had lost on Sumarin—hung in plain view at his belt. Looking up at her, his face was briefly illuminated by the purple glow of the lichen clinging to the surrounding tree trunks before he took a step back into the darkness.

But he didn't leave; she still felt the barest glimmer of him through the Force as he stood hidden somewhere in the decorative forest below. That hint of his presence beckoned to her despite its silence, and she gracefully dropped down to the lower levels to stalk the bridges skimming the treetops.

He ducked into a side corridor and she leapt down to the ground floor, one hand on the hilt of her lightsaber as she followed him.

Snoke will lay traps for you, Rey. Master Skywalker's old warning made the hair on the back of Rey's neck rise. But how could Snoke try to tempt her with Ren, when no one knew the truth of her feelings for him?

Besides, it was impossible to run away from whatever this was between them. She'd tried two years ago, and failed, and she was too proud to let cowardice rule her now.

The corridor was empty except for him. A door hissed open further along the curve of the base of the building. Rey slunk along the wall, confidence faltering as she headed deeper into the compound. Something whirred and hummed behind the wall panels, liquid shifting as she neared the control station for the exquisite indoor oasis. She drew in a sharp breath, and ducked across the threshold.

The door closed behind her as she entered the darkened space. A viewport comprising the far wall overlooked the peaceful center of the room, cleverly concealed behind the rocks at the base of the largest waterfall. Control panels situated beneath the viewport blinked peacefully, monitoring the biometrics of the oasis meeting chamber beyond.

Ren stood on a dais before another viewport that projected the series of fully-occupied landing pads guarded by the diplomatic corps. A red shred of dawn glimmered between two of the landing pads, spearing through the night like a splinter of blaster fire as Ren turned to face her.

"I wasn't sure if you'd come," he said, taking a single step down the dais toward her before hesitating. He splayed his empty hands in what could have been a gesture meant to soothe her—or just to show that he held no weapons, she wasn't sure.

"Yet here I am," Rey said with a mild shrug, resisting the urge to cross the room to him. It was hard to interpret the tightly coiled emotion lifting from him like an aura of heat, but simply being so near that heat started her heart racing. Though she kept her feet planted, she slowly let her hand fall away from the hilt of her lightsaber.

As though he'd been waiting for that signal, Ren relaxed. "I'd intended to berate you for coming out of the Resistance barracks. Surely you know you're under surveillance—or were, before I commanded them to leave it to me. My Master awaits in orbit, and he still wants you."

"If I'm under surveillance, why take the risk to warn me like this?"

He smiled, slightly. "Compared to the other compromises I've made to try to help you—"

"I haven't asked you to do anything of the kind. I don't want to be in your debt."

"I know."

"And—you made your own choice, two years ago. You could have come back with me." She flung the last at him like some sort of weapon, but he hardly seemed to hear it; he was already pouncing with a response.

"I did choose—just like you chose to follow me down here. Why take the risk in trusting me?"

"Because I know you wouldn't harm me." Panic welled in her gut, and suddenly she wasn't a Jedi's Apprentice; she was nothing more than a confused young woman, his words pushing her to retrace her steps through every mental shield she had erected over the past two years. Those shields faltered now, exposing the truth: she missed him. She missed him, and still wanted him, and that was why she had followed him down here despite all risk and reason. She ratcheted down those truths, binding them up into the tightest shield she could muster. He couldn't know what hold he still had on her—

But he nodded to himself. Still rooted to the dais steps, he held out a hand, and the lightest brush of air touched her cheek—an invitation and a question. Rey's mouth went dry. Chills chased themselves up and down her spine, burning hot into desire as they settled over her skin.

Rey stared at him for the merest heartbeat before flinging herself toward him. He caught her, his sturdy frame stolid against the desperate embrace. His gloved hands spread along her back, her neck, drawing her against him as Rey lifted her mouth to his in a bruising kiss.

Fevered heat rushed through Rey at his taste. She clutched him closer as suddenly all she could hear was her heartbeat roaring in her ears and their shared, frantic breathing. His arms tightened around her a moment before he scooped her up and pinned her against the wall, capturing her wrists in one hand to brace them above her head as he stepped into her. She arched her back, thrusting her hips into his as his weight settled against hers.

Metal clinked and grated as the hilts of their lightsabers scuffed off one another. Rey stilled, pulling back from their kiss, and as though she had control over his own reactions, Ren froze as well. She took his face in her hands, letting her fingertips run through the curl of his hair, refusing to let either of them look down toward the weapons that—in time—they might be forced to wield against one another.

"Rey?" Breathing hard, Ren rested his forehead against hers to catch her eyes with his. He ground his hips against hers, pressing her more firmly back against the wall, the pressure points of his body finding hers with a precision that sent a jolt of pleasure up her spine.

Rey never had any doubt that they'd still fit together, even after all this time. "I missed—" she sucked in a breath as he kissed up her neck, his mouth and tongue lingering at the sensitive skin behind her ear lobe. "I missed the way you make me… feel."

Breathing a laugh into her ear, he trailed teasing fingers lightly down over the mound at the junction of her thighs. She shivered as his fingertips found that single spot that could force her to shatter over him if he did… exactly what he was doing. She moaned into his mouth, her legs slackening under her—until suddenly they were moving again, Rey pushing Ren down into a chair so she could claim every inch of him.

~.~

"When are you expected back at your quarters?" Ren asked later, as they both dressed in the darkness of the command room. On the monitor overlooking the landing pads, the sun stood fully above the horizon, its light glittering red across the tops of the grass stems as though their seedpods held jewels. Such peace, Rey reflected, was always too short-lived.

"Soon," she said, turning away from him as she settled her lightsaber on her belt. She'd intentionally designed it so that its blade was not the blue nor green of the lightsabers from the awful vision where she saw herself locked into a duel with Ren. It was a vain, foolish hope, to try changing some aspect of the vision to prevent it from happening, when she'd already lived it once.

As though he could sense the current of her thoughts, he said, "Do you still intend to follow Skywalker and become a Jedi?"

She straightened her shoulders, adjusting the brown Apprentice robes before turning to face him. He must have found the answer in the determined set of her chin, because he smiled, sadly, as he pulled on his dark gloves.

"Stubborn."

"There are worse things in the galaxy." But it was hard to sound unaffected as her stomach roiled, and she suddenly had no ability to stop the tears rolling down her cheeks. She pressed her face against his chest, stealing one last moment of comfort before having to find the courage to walk out of the chamber.

"The Force will be with you, Rey." He stroked the loose strands of her hair and she shivered, closing her eyes against the swelling emotions as he added, "As will my thoughts."

Light blossomed on the viewport behind them, so bright she saw it through her eyelids, a moment before an explosion rocked the building. Rey blinked, leaning in to stare at the billowing smoke now engulfing the middle tier of the landing pads. Before she could even focus on which ships had exploded, and why, the door whisked open.

Ren shoved her behind him, sending her stumbling toward the small maintenance hatch connecting the room to the oasis. She pulled her lightsaber from her belt as she spun toward whatever danger Ren had sensed, but didn't ignite its double-edged hilt—not yet.

Hux stood framed in the open doorway, a blaster pistol trained on the center of Rey's chest. His blue eyes glittered as he snarled a smile.

"So it's true," he said, the pistol whining as its safety disengaged. "I couldn't believe it, even with the proof. You're a worse traitor than I thought, Ren. But you do make very good bait."

"Hux," Ren began, his choked whisper betraying the rage building in the room, cloying Rey's senses as though she had been doused in his anger. Hux shook his head, silencing Ren with a sharp jerk of his chin.

He edged deeper into the room, displaying more bravery than Rey would have liked to credit him with. Rey backed toward the maintenance hatch, giving herself more space to shift into a defensive stance to ignite her lightsaber. She couldn't attack Hux—and ruin everything this summit hoped to build—but she would defend herself.

"My troopers will be here any moment. If one single shred of loyalty for Leader Snoke remains in you, Ren—if your oaths mean anything at all—you will stand there, quietly, while I take her into custody."

Before Ren could snarl a response, the muzzle of a blaster rifle pressed into Hux's back. Finn barked a bitter laugh. "I don't think so."

Hux glanced over his shoulder, apparently unconcerned at being held at blaster point. His pistol never wavered from Rey as white lights flickered on the viewport, and a dozen Star Destroyers appeared from hyperspace to ring the planet.

"That'll be my armada," Hux said, and smiled.