'
Rey's life is hard, but it is hers. There are few ways for women to make a living in the desert and she has the talent (or the deserpation) for one that means she doesn't have to give up her autonomy and tie herself to a man.
It is true she could have left the desert and gone to live in a town or city, but she likes the freedom the vast expanses give her. The idea of so many people packed together in a small area, living on top of each other, repulses her.
Although she lives in a village, her life is a solitary one. The only occasion she really spends time with anyone is when Finn passes through. He is a caravan guard, Niima Outpost is a stop along a trade route, it is not as busy as some, but it gives the inhabitants their livelihoods and an easier way to trade for what they need without having to travel themselves.
So she is as happy as it is possible to be; sometimes she wishes Finn would stay longer, or permanently, but these feelings are platonic and she has no right to ask him too. Secretly she dreads the day he stops coming, either because he has taken another job or found a wife.
Sometimes she regrets not having romantic feelings for him, and her pragmatic side will point out that most marriages have nothing to do with love. It is a point she absolutely agrees with, yet she cannot act on it, because she is waiting.
She has been her whole life, for what, she isn't sure, but the feeling runs deep.
These feelings she gets, she follows. They have guided her all her life and have never led her astray. It's how she has never been stung by a scorpion or bitten by a snake while she works, how she knows a storm is due hours before the natural warning signs. How she hunts so successfully or protects herself from men who won't take no for an answer.
Therefore if it tells her to wait, even though it doesn't intimate what for, she obeys it, knowing that in time, all will be made clear.
'
So when she snaps awake to find a giant shadow standing in her hut, she cannot help but feel a sense of betrayal over how late this warning is.
Shoving down her dismay, she jumps to her feet, her precious staff is resting against the wall out of her reach but she always sleeps with a knife under the thin pad she rests her head on.
The blade is in her hand but the figure makes no move towards her, merely cocks their head slightly as they watch her.
"Get out."
Her voice is almost steady but there is a small tremor in it, anger and fear.
Ignoring her command completely, the figure asks a question instead.
"What is your name?"
His voice is deep and dark, unlike any she has ever heard, her flesh rises with goosebumps and she shivers, but shakes her head.
"I don't know who you are, but you need to leave, or I will make you." She sounds more confident than she is, something about his voice makes her feel strange. "If you want to know my name, ask in daylight rather than sneaking uninvited into my home."
When he doesn't leave she brandishes her knife, long and sharp, "I won't tell you again!"
There comes a sigh, and his arm comes up, huge hand held out, not far from her head. Rey's body tries to flinch away… but she cannot.
She cannot move, save to breath, her whole body locked down, frozen and impotent.
As she panics, he speaks again.
"Either you tell me your name, or I take it. Believe me when I say the former option is preferable to the latter."
Speaking is possible then.
"Why?" until today, and excepting her abilities, Rey has never believed in magic, but this? This man is clearly uncanny, but why in all of earth and sky, would he possibly want to know her name?
Her answer displeases him, another sigh escapes him and he steps closer…
Rey gasps in shock, horrified as she feels something slip inside her head, into her thoughts, as if his fingers are digging through her mind. It hurts, burns, the pain of this violation, her whole being strains against it, against whatever is trapping her body, but it is a wasted effort..
Hot tears slip from her eyes to trickle down her face, she hates to cry - it is a waste of water and salt, but she cannot stop.
Then, so abruptly she gasps again, her mind is her own once more, even if her body is still ensnared.
"Rey."
The way he says her name raises every hair on her body while fire blooms beneath her skin, blood tingling with something she heretofore has never experienced.
"It suits you," he tells her as he steps closer, now barely inches away, gloved hand coming up to lightly graze her cheek.
Even this close, she can get no sense of who he is, his body swathed in black robes and his face and head are hidden under a helmet. The dim glow given off by her fire isn't enough for her to see his eyes - it is like looking at a phantom, the caress is the only proof she has that he even exists. Could this merely be a dream? A nightmare? She prays to anyone willing to listen, with all her being it is so, that she will wake soon and laugh at her foolishness.
The knife she has been gripping this whole time, is gently eased from her useless fingers, it falls to the floor with a soft thud.
"Time to go."
His voice is soft, and for a moment her heart leaps, foolishly assuming that he will leave without her.
She has a brief moment of confusion as he raises his hand to her forehead and says, "Sleep," before darkness rolls over her.
'
Άδης και Περσεφόνη
'
His mortal girl, Rey, falls into his waiting arms with a small sigh. Limp and soft, her body light in his firm grip as he makes his way out of her hut and into the desert.
The sand and rock give way for him, parting to reveal a stairway that leads downward into darkness. As he descends, the ground reforms above him silently.
When they arrive at the Styx, he ignores Charon, instead conjuring himself a platform and skimming over the black water and grey mist, eager to return to his living space and examine his prize more closely.
Chewie greets him with a whine, serpent headed tail hissing as he wags it, one huge head turned so he can snuffle at Kylo's burden with interest.
Kylo smiles and gives him a quick ear pull, "This is my mortal girl," he tells the hound quietly, "What do you think?"
Further sniffing leads to a huff and an approving rumble sounds in Chewie's chest, that turns into a snarl as the serpent headed tail tries to curl around his body and bite - the mammalian and reptilian aspects of the hound's nature always at war with each other.
After slipping the dog's head closest to him a morsel of cake, Kylo enters through the gate.
'
There is an area of Hades where none but he can go, where he has made a home of sorts. It is located behind his throne, behind a pair of ancient pomegranate trees.
There are no walls but he has woven a glamour around it, no eyes but his can see through. It is not a large space - his needs are few, but there are some small luxuries he has allowed himself; in the centre there is a large fire-pit, the flames, like the torches are eternal, never burning out or creating smoke. A bath in one corner, a simple pool in the floor, deep enough for him to sit and be immersed up to his chest, heated and filled with mineral rich water that renews itself regularly. Then there is his bed, he is a large man so the bed must be so, covered in smooth silk and soft furs, its four posters draped with swathes of gossamer.
It is big enough for two.
Opposite the bathing area stands a solid table with chairs, rarely used, next to shelves filled with ancient tomes and scrolls.
The table is clear apart from the mirror, resting innocently in the centre. For a moment he pauses, surprised it isn't back on the throne.
Still, it hardly matters now.
Laying Rey gently down upon his bed, he takes a moment to just stare at her, studying her features, finally counting her freckles, before looking at what she is wearing. It appears she sleeps fully clothed, the only items missing from her daily apparel are her boots and headgear. She even still wears her belt, complete with coin pouch and two knives.
The weapons he removes, concealing them in a chest she won't be able to see that stands at the end of the bed.
Stroking the loose hair away from her face, he leans in nearer, till his nose is brushing the skin of her throat. Her skin is warm and soft, pulse gently fluttering against his lips. The scent of the sun clings to her, it speaks to him of warm sand and wild wind, sweat and woodsmoke. It is so very human, and yet, beneath it all, there is something else, hovering just out of reach. An otherness.
Has his mortal girl been touched by Hecate? It is not the acrid taint of motal mageia, that is for certain, he briefly touches his lips to hers, inhaling her breath deep into his lungs, no, she is too pure.
It is this thought that awakens his body, hunger rushing in, the intensity surprises him briefly before he allows it to carry him away.
"Wake", he commands, and watches in fascination as her bright eyes fly open.
'
A/N: I'm finding it hard to writing atm, I think you can tell from this chapter, all the rewriting has got me no where, so I decided to post anyway and hope that kick starts something, maybe I can come back to improve it later.