Hi everyone! Sorry, I'm behind in posting. Work has been crazy. If you would like posts in real-time, you can always follow HighLadySolo on Ao3 as she posts there, and I post to FFN from that. -Skye
Summary:
Aelin has entered the chat, sort of. Eating, drinking, and dancing ensue. Rey sees something and completely misunderstands. Anakin has entered the chat.
A/N:
Aelin and Rowan show up eventually, but this story is more ACOTAR/Star Wars than anything else, so if you haven't read TOG, you'll be fine.
Splinter
"You'd better have a really good rutting reason for summoning me before noon, High Lord," the blonde woman with eyes of turquoise and gold drawled as her image appeared in a large, ornate gilt-framed mirror. "I was…busy."
"Do send Rowan our regards," Rhysand drawled right back.
The blonde woman, who appeared to be clad only in a loosely belted silk robe, laughed loudly and tossed her sheet of golden hair back over a shoulder. Ben, out of the range of vision of the mirror, caught sight of her pointed ears, similar but with a slightly different shape to those of the Fae in the room with him.
A faint growl sounded from outside the view offered by the mirror.
"Rowan sends his love also," the blonde laughed. "But seriously, why did you summon me?" Her jaw cracks in an enormous yawn that she didn't bother hiding.
"We need a favor," Feyre said, pushing in front of Rhysand. "We need a Door."
The woman's head cocked with the preternatural grace of a predator.
"What's happened?" she barked as if in command on a battlefield.
A silver-haired male, equal in size to Ben and the Illyrians materialized behind the woman. One side of his face was covered in harshly beautiful tattoos.
Feyre gestured for Ben to join her and Rhys in front of the mirror.
"It's not like that," Feyre says as Ben awkwardly stands too close to the couple in order to be seen. "We've found a friend." She paused. "From another world."
Both the female and the male's eyes narrowed.
"And he's…safe?"
"He's passed all of our tests, and dear Amren approves."
"Hmm." The female twirled a lock of hair around her finger as the male leaned closer to glare at the mirror.
"Ben Solo, meet Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen, and her husband, Rowan Whitethorn Galaythinius." Feyre made the introduction.
"And what, exactly, is a Ben Solo?" Aelin Whatever Galathynius said, peering at him.
"I'm the son of Leia Organa, Galactic Senator and General of the Resistance," he said. "Grandson of Queen Padme Amidala of Naboo." Ben straightened, pulling on the princely air he hadn't used in years. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, your majesties." He nodded to them in turn, feeling his curtain of black hair fall forward over his face.
"Naboo? Resistance?"
"Ah, well, Ben here fell through a Door." Rhys sounded faintly amused.
" A Door. Not my Door?"
"No, he landed just inside the borders out on the beach," Feyre offered.
"He was dreadfully sandy." Amren appeared in the doorway behind them as if the use of her name summoned the tiny being. "And half dead."
"Thank you for that, Amren." Rolling his eyes, Rhysand turned to address the room at large. "So, Aelin, can you tell where his Door leads? Can you send him back?"
In the mirror, Aelin and Rowan had what appeared to be a silent conversation with pointed looks and eyebrows flicking.
"I…don't know," Aelin admitted. "I can try."
Beside him, Feyre glances up to meet Ben's gaze. With a hint of a nod, she pats his arm lightly.
"Will you? Please? I have to…I have to go back."
"His…dyad…" Rhys explains, "his mate, I suppose, is there. She believes him dead."
Matching looks of grief and sadness flashed over the two faces in the mirror before Aelin spoke again.
"Of course." She nodded, jerkily, ducking her face away. Rowan's tattooed arm slid over her shoulders, and he stared into the mirror.
"We will make the necessary arrangements and arrive shortly," Rowan said and turned away as the mirror went dark.
"So," Ben said to fill the silence, "this Aelin makes Doors? What does that mean?"
"We…don't know, exactly," Feyre admitted, glaring at Rhysand when he shot her a look. "She uses wyrdmarks, a sort of rune, to create doors to other worlds. She doesn't even know how it works."
That…was not encouraging.
"Right. Well…" Ben let his words trail off awkwardly, unsure what to do, so he decided to return to his room. The cream-colored walls were overwhelmingly reminiscent of sand, and Ben lay on the bed staring up blankly until he could no longer bear the crushing sense of doom that came with doing nothing.
Which is why, an hour later, Feyre found him on the roof, drenched in sweat and trying to exhaust himself with training.
"Aelin and Rowan should arrive tomorrow," she said by way of greeting.
Ben grunted in response, pounding his fists into a punching bag. Pausing to drink water from a glass on a side table, Ben watched as Feyre strapped her hands into round leather pads. He felt his eyebrow rise as she held her hands up in front of her face, beckoning for him to begin again. He hesitated, eying her, and Feyre rolled her eyes at him.
"You used to fight Rey, right? Before…" she trailed off, and Ben nodded. "Did you ever go easy on her?"
"I only ever defended myself against her, but I never pulled my blows for her." The memory of their whirling lightsabers in the snow set his blood singing. "She could have killed me. She nearly did."
"Exactly. So could I," Feyre grinned wickedly. "Don't pull your punches. Let's go."
As Ben gave in and settled into the rhythm of his punches and kicks, he decided he was grateful, not only for Feyre, but for the chance to live again and work through his shit, and maybe, to find Rey again.
They continued on for another hour, eventually swapping places, with Ben holding the striking pads and Feyre practicing. As he watched Feyre lose herself in the movements, he wondered how Rey had learned her fighting skills. Had she been taught by someone on Jakku, or had she just done what was necessary to protect herself in such a harsh environment?
While he was lost in thought, Feyre continued punching, until Ben saw flame wreathing her fingers as she struck at him. Instinctively, he reached out through the Force, pushing against her and smothering the flame. Feyre skidded backward, blinking.
"Are you alright?" they asked in unison. Both checked their hands, and Ben found that the leather pads were nearly singed through to his flesh, though no lasting damage had been done to him.
"Sorry," she said, shaking her fingers as if to keep the flames away. "I do that sometimes."
From the doorway, a snort sounded.
"Sometimes," Cassian said with a chuckle, emerging from the door. "Try regularly."
"Perhaps if you weren't such a pain in my ass, I wouldn't have to work out so much anger," Feyre replied sweetly.
Cassian responded by wrapping his arms around the High Lady, lifting her up, and spinning her in a circle before pressing a huge smacking kiss to the top of her head and setting her back on her feet. Azriel and his shadows exited, closely followed by Rhysand and Morrigan. All of the Night Court were dressed in clothing that was strikingly different from their everyday wear, except Feyre, who still wore her training leathers.
"We're going to be late," Amren said idly, using the blade of a tiny knife to pick at her nails.
"You have time if you're quick about it," Mor said, rolling her eyes at Amren.
Feyre turned toward the door and stopped with her hand on the knob.
"You're coming too, Ben. I'm not taking no for an answer."
Half an hour later, now clean and changed into more borrowed clothing, Ben found himself walking the streets of Velaris in the midst of the Night Court. Velaris had come alive after dark, with the glowing street lights casting the vibrant colors of the buildings in a warm glow that was somehow even more beautiful than when he'd seen it shining in the sun. Along the streets, Rhys and Feyre's subjects spoke and waved to them, but always with respect and admiration, never fear or anger, and Ben marveled at the difference.
He'd only ever been shown fear and hatred in his year as Supreme Leader.
Morrigan's red dress shone like a beacon ahead of him as she danced through the streets, occasionally taking Cassian or Feyre's hands and making them twirl with her. Amren brought up the rear of the group, and Ben noticed that the citizens of the city offered her a healthy dose of respect from far away. The tiny female seemed to prefer it that way. Azriel and Rhys prowled at their flanks, seemingly having a silent conversation as they moved through the city, keeping an eye out for any danger.
Rita, the owner of the restaurant, had a large table already laid with a massive amount of food and wine when they pushed through her door. She nodded and spoke to Rhys and Feyre, hugged Morrigan, but stopped when she came to Ben. For several seconds she stared at him, and her intense gaze felt like she was peering deep into what was left of his soul.
"I'll be back," she said as she turned and went through the swinging door into the kitchen.
The court all seated themselves as Ben stared after Rita, leaving Ben to pull out a chair between Cassian and Feyre. Wine was pushed into his hand, a plate appeared before him, and Ben settled himself into the chair while conversations and music flowed around him. Ben ate slowly, listening rather than engaging with the others.
Several minutes passed, and Rita reappeared with a tray full of food that she set in front of Ben. Golden brown flatbreads, a huge bowl of a hearty stew, a pile of round meat pies, and a bottle of deep red wine were set before him. Their mingling scents sent him rushing back to his youth when Leia had made traditional Alderaanian foods on holidays. Back when she'd had time to cook. Mouth and eyes watering, Ben turned to look at Rita, who offered him a small smile.
"Thank you," he rasped. She nodded and was gone.
"This smells amazing," Cassian said as he reached for one of the sweet-and-savory pies. Ben could smell the fickle berries that had been baked into the filling.
A wooden spoon appeared in front of his face, and then Cassian was wincing and howling in pain as Feyre smacked the back of his hand with it.
"Wait your turn, you overgrown bat," she admonished him. "Rita made those for Ben."
"How?" was all Ben could say.
"Rita has a sense about food," Amren responded.
Slowly, Ben doled out the pies, and then used the flatbreads to scoop up bites of the rich, spiced stew. More memories flooded through him, of his childhood and the fewer happier memories he had as he had grown older. Familiar faces flashed in his mind, though he'd never met them. Those of his grandparents, Bail and Breha, smiling and laughing around the table as they ate a meal similar to this. To hide the tears stinging his eyes, Ben poured a large glass of the Alderaanian floral wine before passing the bottle to Feyre, who pronounced it her new favorite.
Once everyone had decided that they'd eaten and drunk their fill, Mor proclaimed that she wasn't tired enough to go home and demanded that everyone come out dancing with her. Ben tried as hard as he could to evade Mor and Feyre, but they positioned themselves on either side of him, wrapped their arms around his, and dragged him to the dance hall where more wine flowed and music poured through the open windows and doorway.
The dark interior was hazy and filled with bodies, each moving to the beautiful, unfamiliar music. Immediately, Feyre and Mor found themselves in the center of the dance floor, and Ben watched with the others, the Illyrians weren't quite in their cups enough for dancing. Several minutes passed that way; the males on the outskirts, while the females spun and clapped and swayed to the music. Until they decided that wasn't enough, and they dragged the males, Ben included, back to their spot on the floor.
Ben couldn't remember the last time he'd danced. Had he ever danced before?
Azriel didn't seem any more comfortable than Ben felt, and the two shifted their weight awkwardly from foot to foot while Rhysand and Cassian joined in with enthusiasm.
Cassian especially. He flared his wings wide and spun in a circle while performing increasingly more complicated series of steps.
For a few moments, Ben found that he was actually enjoying himself. And then, of course, everything crashed back into him.
How could he have forgotten? Luke, Snoke, Rey? All of it. He'd committed atrocities and lost his…his…
Gods, he'd nearly thought the word mate .
As if she sensed his discomfort, Mor danced her way over to him and held out her hands.
"Dance with me!" Her eyes were bright and her smile was genuine.
Reluctantly, Ben took her hands and followed.
"I don't know what to do," he admitted.
"Like this!" Mor pushed one of her hands, and therefore one of his, backward, while pulling the other forward. "Good!" She repeated that a few times until she was satisfied that he could manage that movement. "Now swivel your hips a little!"
Ben tipped his head back and laughed, doing as she said.
Rey sits bolt upright at the words "swivel your hips a little". Now that she's awake, she recognizes the signs of a Force-connection, and she searches for Ben.
It takes a few moments for her to register what she's seeing. Ben Solo, holding his hands out in midair, sort of…twisting…? Is he dancing ?
While she watches, it dawns on Rey that the way his hands are held means that he's dancing with someone else. And he has the audacity to look happy .
Red haze clouds her vision. Around her, she can hear the few things she keeps in her quarters rattling with the force of her rage, but she only has eyes for Ben.
He's all she can see, but he doesn't see her.
The Force is connecting them, and Ben doesn't see her .
All of the oxygen leaves her lungs in a sound between a wail and a shriek, and the sound of rending metal pulls her out of the vision. Around her, the floating bits of droid crash back down to the floor. The door is blown outward, the cause of the sound.
Panting, Rey pulls herself off the floor. Without looking, she summons her lightsaber to her hand, and exits her room. In the hallways, she hardly registers the people who are searching for the source of the sound that pulled them from sleep. Pushing Rose aside and ignoring her questions, Rey keeps walking blindly until she reaches the Falcon and has blazed a trail into the sky.
Ahch-To is the last place she wants to be, but this time, she's going to demand answers. She'll smash the mirror cave to glittering shards if she has to.
By the time she lands, she's calmer. The coldness of space helped her to regulate her breathing, but the streaking lights of hyperspace had dulled her senses into a sort of trance that left her lightheaded and disoriented. Her steps are wobbly as she rises from the captain's chair, her palm brushing over the now-familiar controls of the Falcon's cockpit. Ben should've inherited the Falcon, but…
She pushes those thoughts aside and watches the ramp lower onto the stony ground of Ahch-To before she disembarks. The Lanai, on recognizing her, make chittering noises and scatter. Rey winces. They're right to flee; she'd done a lot of damage here.
Slowly, she picks her way along the rocky path to the outcropping where Luke had first taught her about the Force.
"All the Jedi, my karking ass." Her boots send a loose pebble skittering along the smooth stone before it tumbles right over the edge. "Where are you now , huh? All the Jedi ." Rey snorts and flops down in what should be a meditative pose. But the stone is uncomfortable and hard, and the wind is frigid as it whips her hair around her face in stinging tendrils. "BE WITH ME!" she roars into the abyss.
Nothing.
If she hadn't already sliced off the boulder that had originally lain at the end of the cliff, she would certainly be chopping it to bits now. Unfortunately, there were no inanimate objects around on which she could take out her frustration. So she set out on the path to the mirror cave, and if it didn't reveal its secrets, then so help her…
Again, she shoves the darker thought aside, breathing in and out.
The mirror cave looks much the same, reflecting infinite Reys back at her. The one nearest to her looks horrible. Gaunt and pale, with deep purple circles beneath eyes that are too deep-set. She hardly recognizes herself. As if it has a mind of its own, her hand reaches out to touch the smooth glass. Mirror-Rey's finger does the same. And she waits…again.
Still nothing.
Staring into her own haunted eyes is too unnerving to maintain for any length of time, so she squeezes her eyes shut.
"Be with me," she whispers, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife.
"We never left you." Luke.
" You're not who I need."
"Rey-" her former master speaks, but she cuts him off.
"No. You've done enough. Or not enough. Whatever."
"Rey." Leia tries next.
"I don't want to talk to the people who abandoned him!" Rey shrieks and opens her eyes to glare at the blue-tinged Force ghosts that she's been ignoring for days.
Both visibly flinch at her words, and she sighs.
"Neither of you ever fell to the dark or had someone else's voice in your head for years. I need to find — him." She points.
Behind the twins, a tall man in dark Jedi robes appears. He has long sandy hair and sad blue eyes. Anakin nods briefly to his children, and it strikes Rey as odd that his Force-ghost shows as a young man, while his children appear old enough to be his parents.
"Rey."
"Why did you never show yourself to him when he called you?" Rather than greeting one of the most powerful Force users of all time, Rey chooses to jump right into the questions she has.
"There are two reasons, the first being that he never wanted to speak to me , he wished only for Darth Vader. And as such, his stubbornness, no idea where that came from," he pauses, and a hint of a smile crosses his face, "his stubbornness kept him from seeing me. Believe me, I tried. And second, Palpatine did everything in his considerable power to stop me."
"Not good enough," Rey growls. "You should have tried harder! Done anything, everything —"
"I did," Anakin says gently.
And Rey collapses, sobbing. She knows he speaks the truth.
"If I had felt him before, if I'd known, I could have…" and she trails off, unsure what she could have done.
"It is best not to dwell on the past," Anakin says, moving to sit on the stones beside Rey. "How will you move forward?"
"I don't—- I don't know how. I don't know what to do now that he's gone."
"But you know he's not."
Rey stays silent.
"The ones who love us never really leave us," Anakin says, "and for you that is especially true."
"But he's—he's happy there. I saw him. With another woman. Laughing." Rey's voice cracks.
Behind Anakin, Luke and Leia exchange a look.
"Rey." A glowing blue hand lands on her shoulder. "Use the Force. Feel for him."
"I have tried a million times," Rey says. And suddenly she is very, very tired.
"Look inside yourself to find the way."
"I—what?"
"The two of you are connected in ways the Jedi couldn't begin to understand. The path to Ben is through you."
"That's not cryptic at all."
Anakin actually smiles at that.
"You have to find the way on your own. Trust your feelings, and you will find him again."
