The light was fading as the army made camp. Rey found herself chained to a wagon and guarded with two other prisoners: a young man bloodied, with two swollen eyes, and an older vagabond with wild grey streaked hair. She eyed them both with apprehension and assessed the risk they may pose to her during the night.

To her surprise, once camp was made, she was unchained from the wagon and led away. Her relief was momentary as she noted that she was being led to a small tent slightly to the side of a larger black and red tent. The larger tent obviously belonged to someone important, a lord, a commander, a knight...maybe the black knight who captured her?

Panic struck and she began to struggle against her bonds, to no avail. The soldier led her inside where what looked to be a metal table leaning at an angle was waiting. There were restraints for her arms and legs that Rey fought against as hard as she could, to the point where the soldier attempting to secure her called for assistance.

And then she was left alone, fastened to the table. She struggled against the restraints experimentally, to quickly realise that it was useless and made her wrists and ankles sore. It was then with relief that she recognised that her metal bonds kept her legs parallel to one another, not apart. She sighed in relief for her virtue, until she took in the table to her right with a number of metal implements no doubt designed to inflict maximum pain. An empty metal stand stood empty, she assumed for the torturer's torch.

Rey waited for a cold sweat to pass, her stomach churning in fear, and waited for the inevitable. There were guards outside of the tent, she could hear the creak of their armour, but no one else came and no one ventured inside the tent even though night fell and it seemed that most of the camp had retired to their beds.

Rey tried to make herself as comfortable as she could, as she waited, and waited, and waited some more. Her mind began to convince itself that the anticipation was all part of the interrogation technique.

Would it be the black knight who came for her, to draw out of her what she knew? He had stalked up to her, her rocks simply bouncing off his armour. He was tall, intimidating and the stuff that nightmares were made of.

But neither he nor anyone else came. Eventually Rey succumbed to exhaustion and slept, a heavy dreamless sleep, despite her awkward position.

She regained consciousness with a start, the jolt of metal against her wrists and ankles startling her further before she remembered yesterday's misfortunes.

There, kneeling before her, was the biggest misfortune. He remained still, his helm unmoving and featureless, and it unnerved her.

Rey felt as though she needed to break the silence. "Where am I?"

The pause before he responded heightened Rey's anxiety. "You're my guest." His voice was even but distorted.

"Where are the others?"

Another pause. "You mean the murderers, traitors and thieves you call friends? You'll be relieved to hear that I have no idea."

Rey took a moment to consider her captor and his answers. He had said nothing to alarm but she felt threatened all the same. This was a dangerous man, of that she was sure—one false step and she did not want to consider what would happen. Rey remembered the sword at her neck in the forest. Her panic and fear grew. She didn't want to be caught up in any of this. She felt anger—at herself, at him, at everyone.

He seemed to observe her, observing him. "You still want to kill me?"

"That happens when you're being hunted by a creature in a mask." Her defiant retort did not hide the slight wobble as the words passed the lump in her throat.

The black knight kept his visor trained on her. Was that the wrong thing to say? Should she be meek and cooperative, or in providing the map would she outlive her usefulness? She waited for his response with baited breath.

Without speaking he lifted his hands towards his helmet, unfastened it with a metallic clank and removed it. He got to his feet and stared at her.

Rey stared back, her brow wrinkling in confusion.

Of everything she was expecting to see under the mask, it was not the face before her. Dark hair, black as night, but not in sweaty tangles as expected. He looked well groomed. His eyes were also dark, intense, and striking against the pallor of his skin. This man did not have to toil out in the sun day after day. No doubt he spent his time hidden under that mask avoiding daylight. His clothes were as dark as his hair. Under a prominent nose, she had expected a hard mouth twisted into a sneer. Instead she found the only colour on him: large, soft, red lips.

She understood now. He wore the mask to hide. He did not look like a monster. He looked spoiled, vulnerable, even attractive, maybe...

Rey caught herself. This was her captor. He was here to extract information from her. And then she was disposable, a nobody.

Rey had never been a fool over any boy. She didn't have the time or energy. And even if she considered that in some time in the future she might, looks were irrelevant, meant nothing. Strong hands and a hardy constitution were everything.

The black knight placed his helm on a table and approached. She was reminded of his towering height as looked down at her. Rey braced herself for what was about to come.

In. Out. In. Out. She forced herself to breathe.

"Tell me about the Page." His voice was reasonable.

"He's Page to Sir Poe Dameron. He has seven siblings of which he is the youngest and his mother's name is Maude—"

"He was carrying a section of a map." He gave her facetiousness short shrift. "We have the rest recovered from the archives of the Empire, but we need the last piece. And somehow you convinced the Page to show it you."

He looked her full in the face. "You. A Serf."

Ah, that was it. A reminder of her place. That she had gotten involved in something so far removed from her own life. He was someone. She was not. She was entirely at his mercy. Fear and anger threatened to spill out of her watery eyes.

His gaze then roamed up and down her body. "You know I can take whatever I want." His voice was almost a whisper but she heard the threat. He stepped closer and brought his hand up to the side of her face. The leather of his gloves felt strange against the soft flesh of her cheeks. Her stomach flipped in a strange way. Rey pulled as far away as her bonds would allow.

His hand held her head in place as intense brown eyes sought her hazel. Try as she might to look elsewhere, he captured them.

It was a while before he spoke again, as if he was interrogating her with his eyes alone. "You're so lonely, so afraid to leave."

Her breath hitched as he hit the mark. She noticed his eyes look her up and down once more.

Something about the proximity, his intensity, his interest in her, flared in her veins. Up close she could make out a constellation of moles across his cheeks. And those lips as he spoke...

Without thinking she pulled at her restraints in an attempt to escape her own reaction to him. No. Absolutely no.

She noticed him swallow hard.

"You imagine an ocean. I see it. I see the island."

His gaze lingered on her face before dropping once more and returning. His expression changed to displeasure.

"Han Solo. You feel like he's the father you never had. He would have disappointed you."

Anger won over fear. "Get out of my head."

How dare he presume to pretend he knew anything about her, as if she was the type of peasant girl that was wheeled in for him every day of the week.

He stepped away from her, removing his hand, and walked over toward the table and tools. "I know you've seen the map. It's in there. And now you'll give it to me."

They locked eyes again. This time she did not try and look away but met him with all the challenge and bravado she could muster. His expression softened, with a hint of confusion, and something else. "Don't be afraid. I feel it too."

"I'm not giving you anything."

He smirked. "We'll see."

He stepped closer, close enough to see the way his lips quivered slightly.

His face, it was so expressive. It hid nothing. He was...nervous?

The fearsome black knight was wary of her? A girl, completely defenceless, held at his whim. Why?

Something lit within Rey. This was as new to him as it was to her. He did not know what to do. With her. With whatever was making the air in the room thick with tension.

Rey felt power shift in her favour as she parted her lips slightly and retutned his gaze. He wanted her and did not know how to proceed. Rey did not know what her own face was saying but Rey saw his confidence shatter completely. He was open, vulnerable.

Maybe, just maybe, this was her chance.

"You. You're afraid."

He took one, two steps back.

Yes. Yes, he was. But not just of her. She could see it now. The whole persona, the black and silver helm, was more than just metal armour, it was a disguise. He was just a boy—and a soft one at that—inside of a black suit of steel.

Why? Why did he want to pretend to be something he was not? He was clearly born into privilege. Why build himself up to be the new black knight, most people's idea of fearsome, strong, intimidating?

Because the boy who was afraid of everything wanted more than anything to be the thing that everyone else feared. To make himself feel stronger. He wanted to be just like—

"That you'll never be as strong as Lord Vader."

The boy recoiled in horror, showing his true face, no disguise, before storming out of the tent, taking his helm with him.

Any victory Rey felt faded as she realised that she was still a prisoner. As night turned into day she had plenty of time to reflect how she could have used her time differently.

Once the army packed up, she was chained to the wagon once more. Only briefly did she see the black knight as he mounted his charger and rode away, at the head of his army.

It was a long and tiring days march, and by the time the sun was setting and they set up camp around a castle, Rey's feet were blistered and sore and her mouth dry. When offered a ladle of water and some stale bread she consumed them greedily.

A soldier unfastened Rey and her two companions and led them across the drawbridge and under the portcullis.

If she was going to escape it was now. Once led through the courtyard and down a staircase, she decided to give it all or nothing. Rey rushed the guard, causing him to slip. She didn't stop to think as to what would happen next but her fellow prisoners joined the squabble, beating the guard. After what felt like an eternity the guard grew still and after much searching they found his keys.

Rey unfastened their bonds. The vagabond grabbed the guard's torch and rushed off immediately but the bloodied man paused. They both saw the guard's sword and made a move at the same time. The bloodied man won, paused, but then headed up the staircase the way they had come. The light faded as they both left.

After a brief curse, Rey decided on the method of her own escape. Feeling her way, she removed the guard's clothing, fitting it over her own clothes as best as she was able given the difference in build. Likely it wouldn't hold up to close scrutiny but it was her best chance of freedom.

In the dark, slowly and steadily, she crawled up the stairway.