2/6/2
Rey wanted to wake up rested, full of purpose, ready to put on Lady Ren like a dress, and then, somehow, get through the day without messing it up, and then peel her right back off again, and go crash with Kylo for a while.
Actually, she wanted to wake up spooned in Kylo's arms, at home, both of them healthy, have a whole lot of sex, and then go back to sleep, and then have a normal, boring, mucking-about-with-the-kids-at-Lirium sort of day.
She really woke up in Mirina's guest room, because, apparently guest rooms are a thing people who entertain regularly have. The bed is good. The room is comfortable. There are plenty of pillows, and the fabrics are soft, and… for a good ten to twenty seconds she can think about that before being submerged in a full body wave of NERVOUS.
One step at a time. She tamps down nervous with instructions, and following them. Can't get nervous about peeling back the blanket. No one can mess up peeling back the blanket and setting your feet on the floor.
So, get up, put on robe, eat, wash up, don't wash hair, get back into robe, then hair, make up, get dressed, eat another snack, wait for Jon and Poe to show up…
Instructions help.
She can… drift probably isn't the right word, but she can focus on each step, one bit at a time.
Get up. Push blankets back, put feet on the floor, pull on robe, go to the main room, interact with Mirina, who's vastly too chipper this morning, eat…
Each one, one step at a time.
Get one done, move to the next, get that one done, move to the one after…
Keep going.
And one step at a time, the morning flows away, and Lady Ren, or at least a very nice dress, and pretty hair, and good makeup, comes into play.
It's easier with Jon and Poe.
Mirina feels like she's watching every second, looking for something out of place, something wrong. Some mark or fault she can fix and send Rey out in perfect Lady Ren style.
Jon and Poe… Maybe she gets a little of that off of Jon, but mostly he's eyeing Poe.
Though there's probably a good reason for that… She's blinking. Okay, she knew Jon cleaned up well for formal things. Actually, no 'cleans up' implies there are times when Jon doesn't look spiffy and in charge. Jon always (at least to Rey) looks ready to meet with the highest of the high delegations, and do it with style. Today's no different, he carries himself with ease in his new Grand Marshall dress uniform, and… He just looks like he belongs in it.
His uniform is… Different. He either feels her thinking about it as they walk toward Kylo's—her—throne room, or sees the way she's looking. "If there's any perk to no longer being the First Order, let alone having this rank, it's that I don't have to look like Imperial re-tread."
She nods at that. She's not sure, entirely, what she's looking at. Trousers, boots, okay, she knows them. A white shirt, with a black cuffs, and an Order hex on the left cuff. Okay. She's not sure if the next layer is a vest or armor. She can't entirely tell if it's a very fine flexible metal or fabric. She can see it's got a high collar, and that four of his Order hexes are on the collar. Five hexes, that's the mark of the Grand Marshall, she knows that. Over the vest he's got…it's sort of like a jacket, and sort of like a long vest, in black, with a darker black lapel, and no sleeves. "Current uniforms?"
"Are completely functional, have a full production line up and going, and well-stocked. We'll eventually switch over, but not before using up the old ones."
Rey nods. She knows Jon isn't thinking of a version of what he's wearing for the rest of the Order. Likely because this appears to be designed and cut to look excellent on him.
So, she's not, on any level, surprised that Jon looks well, like Jon, in a perfectly fitted outfit, showing off his new rank.
Poe was the surprise. She should have guessed that if Jon was in charge of dressing him, which is likely why he's eyeing Poe up and down, keeping all of the details in mind, Poe would look… Dashing. It's not a word she's ever thought before, but… Poe's dashing.
He's got Poe in browns and coppers, and a long flowing cape, and there are… shoulder plates, at least that's what she's going to call them, and he looks… bigger. Not taller, so much, but less narrow, and… He looks dashing.
Put the two of them together and… Hell, they can go off and be the Handsome Pilot and his Grand Marshal… That idea amuses Rey too much. She thinks a bit about the time when she and Kylo won't be doing this, and wonders if the Handsome Pilot and his Grand Marshall… Or maybe the Master and the Master… Or The Master and Commander… Hell, it doesn't matter.
They're there, the three of them, supposedly posh and regal, and ready (maybe) to meet the K'Aran delegation and be gracious and useful and…
Meet the K'Aran delegation. She's been doing her best not to think too much on that, but they're in the elevator, heading down, toward the throne room, so there's really not all that much else she can think about, and her stomach is tightening up, and the dress is too long and too hot, and her makeup feels fake and…
Poe squeezes her hand. "Out of your head, you. Stay right here, right now. That's how flying works. Here, now, each heartbeat at a time. Deep breathing. The Force has you. Trust it."
Rey swallows, squeezes his hand back, closes her eyes, breathes deeply, and lets herself feel the flow of it.
She'd told it to the kids. Find the balance point.
Her breath holds. Right here, right now, her and her alone…
She senses it. There.
Her shoulders straighten a little, and Jon grins as he feels her pull up Lady Ren.
Poe kisses the back of her hand. "Okay, let's go make ourselves, and your man, proud."
She's on the throne, and… It's a fucking throne. She's higher than everyone else in the room. Jon's on her right, and Poe's on her left, and they're both two steps down so her head is higher than theirs.
She's looking straight ahead as the doors to the elevator open, revealing the K'Aran delegation, led by Threepio, into Kylo's… her… throne room.
"Showtime, Lady Ren," Poe says, voice barely above a whisper, as the K'Aran delegation begins the long walk toward them.
Rey rolls her eyes a bit, and then says, very quiet, "Of course, Commander Dameron."
"Head back, shoulders back, eyes forward. You can kick the ass of everyone in this room, and they'll thank you if you do," Poe adds, voice quiet.
Jon nods along, pleasantly smiling, and adds, also quietly, "That's a pretty accurate read on their culture." They're halfway through the room. "Also remember, we want them. If this works out, it will be good for us. They need us. If this doesn't work out, they're looking at a massive civil war and millions dead. We are in a way better position than they are."
Rey grits her teeth but keeps smiling. "Is that supposed to be comforting?" If I fail today, millions will die. Her pulse spikes at that.
Jon inclines his head a bit, nodding to one of the K'Aran dignitaries. "I find it so. No matter what happens, tomorrow we'll be no worse off than we were yesterday. That isn't true for them. They're motivated to make this work."
Rey supposes that's one way to look at it.
The walk is over.
The K'Aar of the K'Aran stands before her. He's gray of hair, and getting spindly, with sun browned, weathered skin, but his posture is straight, and his eyes are clear.
He sees her, and she can feel the confusion, though he doesn't let it show on his face.
Threepio says, voice clear and precise. "Mistress Rey of the Maji, Urathan K'Aar of the K'Aran."
He nods to her.
She stands, and nods back to him.
Showtime indeed.
For a few moments, Rey feels like this is going pretty well. K'Aar and his grandsons are in front of them. K'Aar nods to her. She nods to them. Threepio announces who she is, but not why she's there. She takes two steps forward, and one step down, but as Jon had reminded her, she doesn't descend all the way to the floor, she stays on the step so the K'Aar has to look up at her, and gently clasps hands with the K'Aar.
When he lets go, she says her little, "Welcome to the Order," routine, the K'Aar does his bit of saying how pleased he is by their hospitality, and it looks like it's going fine.
She's actually feeling like she can breathe.
Poe snags both of the grandsons, and heads them off to get a feel for them.
And what should have been the time where Kylo got to speak with K'Aar alone to get his feel for what's happening starts off wrong the second it's the two of them, Jon, Ilnor K'Rith, the K'Aar's top adviser, and Threepio, alone.
K'Aar is glaring, both at his adviser, who likely set this up, who's glaring at Threepio, who was likely his contact on this, and at Rey, who is very clearly not Master Ren.
"We were supposed to meet with Master Ren." Who the bloody fuck are you? is unspoken but clear in his question. Apparently, "Mistress Rey of the Maji," wasn't precisely as enlightening as he'd have liked.
"And we're well aware of that Urathan K'Aar, but he's currently unavailable, so Lady Rey is here in his stead," Jon says, smoothly.
The older man turns toward Rey, looking utterly unimpressed. "If I'd wanted to be judged by a child I could have picked one from home."
Rey's about to blush. She's ten seconds into this and already failing and… Poe's not here, but she can feel his advice, and how if he was here, he'd mentally kick her in the ass for blushing. She straightens her spine, makes her eyes cool, and then she looks at Urathan, really looks at him, trying to figure out what's going on here, because it's got to be deeper than her age.
And it is. He's nervous. So nervous, if this doesn't work, everything he's ever lived for is going to fall apart. Part of it is that he's tired. No… tired is a symptom. He's heartsick. This was his one last hope, his only hope since his son died, and it's falling apart. Under that, his son died, and he never got to grieve because he's the K'Aar of the K'Aran and he has to lead. He's old. He can't keep up the fight much longer, on top of that, he doesn't want to. He's supposed to be enjoying a well-deserved retirement, finally getting to do all of the things he put off while he was building his empire. All of that fell to ashes when his son died, and now, if any sort of peace is going to hold he needs someone strong, someone younger and with more force, more power, than he can bring to bear to keep everyone in line.
And as best he can tell, the best option he has for that is Master Ren. Finding out Ren had moved into the protection and enforcement game was the first good news he'd seen since his son died, and now…
Now, he doesn't have Ren. He's got a pretty little girl, who… he's not even sure if this is Ren's wife, lover, friend, religious adviser, usurper, or what, standing in front of him, and worse, he doesn't know if Ren's brushing him off, has a better deal going, or is also about to lose his own head as the political wheels spin.
Find his needs, and use them to get what she needs… What the Order needs. Which means… she has to be strong. And she has to project stability. For K'Aar, because without a show of strength he can't see her as someone who can save him.
"Take a walk with me, K'Aar?"
Granted, there isn't exactly copious walking space here. They're in Kylo's not-exactly-a-throne-room… Courtyard, maybe. But it's long enough to stroll with him to the far side and look at the stars spinning past them.
His eyes narrow, but he offers her his arm. He is, after all, polite. And whomever, Mistress Rey may be, she's obviously high status, a lady. She takes it, her hand on his, laying lightly on his, and focuses her Force. "Do you know the Jedi?"
His teeth are gritting. She's tightening the hold on his hand. Not visibly. It's all Force work, but she can feel the bones shift and grind against each other. She intensifies the hold.
His bones are old and aren't enjoying the pressure she's laying on them. Much more than a mere child, or a lady, should be able to apply. If she were a man, this would be an insult, an assault, but she's a woman, and if he lets it be known that he's in pain, he'll lose status.
"Heard of them, Mistress," grunts out of him.
"Good. One of the greatest, most powerful Jedi ever, was named Yoda. To this day, no one knows what Yoda was. There have been no others of his kind ever noted. That said, he was tiny, barely a meter tall. He walked with a cane, and hobbled a bit. Nothing about him looked imposing," she can feel that she's got five of the bones in his hand just on the verge of breaking. Rey holds it, there. Apparently, her healing sense is good for something else, too. "Many people looked at him, saw a tiny green thing, with wispy white hair, an archaic command of the Galactic standard tongue, and decided that he couldn't bring any real power to a situation. Most of them died underestimating him."
"Yes, Mistress," hisses out of his throat as Rey relaxes her hold.
She makes her voice hard as she says, "I think you'll find, that there's nothing Master Ren can do for you that I can't." Then she releases his hand from her Force.
He nods, pulls his hand away from her, rubbing it, flexing his fingers, wincing. "And, may I ask where your Lord is?"
She's about to answer that, and then remembers that she has to bring her own power to bare here. It's not enough to be here in Kylo's stead. "He may be everyone else here's Lord, but he's not mine. He's not my master. My love and balance, yes. My equal, definitely. But not my Master."
"Ah." He's still waiting for an answer.
Rey takes the moment to dig a bit deeper into his mind. "Are you married, K'Aar?"
"Yes."
"Long and well?"
He smiles at that. "Also yes."
"And do you, on occasion, set out to do something, and have your wife look at you, and say, 'No?'"
"Rarely." Though she can feel his memory of the last time it happened is bright, and slightly embarrassed, in his mind.
"But when she says it, it's for a good reason?"
"I've often found that to be true."
Rey smiles a little. "He would be here if he could. He really would. He wanted to do this, and was looking forward to it. And if he knew it was happening today, he would have tried to drag himself out of bed and done himself, and every other human in this room no favors. He's dealing with a particularly nasty and contagious stomach virus. Today, I said no. Tomorrow, the answer is still, no. The day after, if he is no longer contagious, it may be yes, but we'll have to re-evaluate. When he's fit to tend to something other than himself, he will, and until then, you get me."
K'Aar smirks at that. "Would I be correct then in saying, that in addition to your balance and love, he is your husband?"
"Yes."
"You and your man seem to be keeping that card close to the table. I don't remember anything about a wedding. Or, for that matter, any official announcements about there being a Lady Ren."
"In our faith we marry first, and have weddings later, and if you think your association with us is of value, I can assure you an invitation to said celebration will come your way when we hold it."
"I'll look forward to it, Lady Ren."
"Lady Rey. My power is my own, not his borrowed or reflected."
K'Aar nods, and looks out over the stars, and the ships, some tiny fighters flitting about on maneuvers, two huge, lumbering destroyers. "You'll forgive me, Lady, but I do not see a fleet with your name on it, unless, of course, you chose to use his. And a fleet is what I'm going to need to provide enough of a threat to enforce whatever succession we may come up with here, today."
Rey can feel Jon mentally screaming at her, Don't let him see you blink. Vader, the Force, the Death Star, tell him that story! "You are, of course, forgiven. And I am here, today, because he trusts me to make decisions for him and his empire. So, if you chose to go along with the solution we offer, that armada you see, and this ship you stand on, will of course be part of the deal. But, because he had the unfortunate luck to get bit by a nasty virus, you get me, in addition to him."
The K'Aar nods, but it's clear that he's not immediately seeing why that's a better deal than Kylo on his own.
"I wonder, sir, are you old enough to remember Darth Vader?"
"I never met him, though everyone my age and older remembers him."
"And, you certainly remember the Death Stars," Rey leads.
"I do."
"It's said, that shortly before the fall of the first Death Star, that Vader was called into a meeting with the men who created it. They cowed about the power of the Death Star, the greatest weapon ever built, and how, with it, the entire galaxy would be brought to heel. And, Vader stood there, and listened, and said to them, 'This technological monstrosity is no match for the power of the Force.' They apparently were unimpressed by that, but less than a week later, they all died, when a man with command of the Force shot a tiny little charge into a just as tiny little flaw in the system."
K'Aar nods. "I have seen those history lessons, yes."
Rey nods, too, and then she, very gently, and carefully levitates K'Aar a few centimeters into the air, before gently putting him back down. Then she smiles, a calm, gentle smile. "Ask me, my Lord, if I need a fleet to enforce my will."
He swallows, hard. "That seems a silly question."
She continues to smile at him. "My husband has his power base, and uses it well. I have mine and do so, too. I am here because he trusts me to act in his stead if need be, and today, needs be. But understand, I do not need the Order to take care of this, The Force is more than enough."
"Yes, Lady Re—ay."
"Thank you. Now, tell me about your grandchildren, and what needs to happen for a 'good outcome' today."
K'Aar looks around, notices that they've taken a walk to within five meters of the 'gracious luncheon' portion of the meeting, and there is a table, set with five chairs, though only four place settings, with a collection of servers scurrying around, fast, because they're seventeen minutes early.
As they get close to the table, Rey tries Kylo's pulling the chair out with the Force trick, and is gratified to see that, like floating rocks, it's really not that difficult.
K'Aar raises an eyebrow, and then, as they get close to the table, he pulls a chair out for her. "This is generally how we do it where I'm from."
She smiles at that and sits down. "Thank you." A server is sprinting toward the table, water pitcher in hand, and as soon as everyone is seated, he's pouring. Rey looks to him, "Thank you…"
He blinks, not sure what to do here. "You're welcome, my lady."
"And are you just in charge of water today?"
"Just water. I think the chef is coming out soon to explain what the options are."
"Wonderful."
Ilnor rolls his eyes a bit. "Pulling out all the stops?"
Jon backhands that away easily. "Yes. You're here because you need us. And we want this to work splendidly, so you'll tell others how well we did, and they'll take us up, too. Assuming this goes well, everyone wins. Now, sirs, we've read the briefings, we know what's in the official reports, we know what's in the unofficial reports, now tell us what isn't so we can get you the happy ending you're looking for."
K'Aar takes a sip of his water. Then he shakes his head a bit. "Here's the blunt version. No one knows which one of them is the oldest of the two, so I can't do a quick birthright settlement. I love them both dearly, because I am their grampa. But as a leader…" He all but growls with frustration. "K'Oanan is bold and flash and strong and so fucking stupid it's embarrassing." He glances to Rey, terrified. "Forgive my language, Lady… I'm used to speaking with men and expressing myself forcefully."
Rey smiles at him. "I've heard the word before. Kylo's been known to, on occasion, utter it. It's possible I may have, under duress and stress, even said it, too."
Jon begins to laugh at that, and a beat later the K'Aar does, too. Threepio and K'Rith don't seem to know what to do with this.
"It's possible my wife has, too. Under duress and stress, of course."
"Of course." Rey smiles. "And your other grandson?"
"K'Ahauna got all the brains, but is so terrified of making a wrong decision, he makes no decisions at all. My son, their father, was a good man, and beyond that, a well-liked one, and my warlords were happy to back him into the next generation, unfortunately, like your man, he caught a nasty virus, but he wasn't smart enough to stay in bed, and died a week later."
Rey lays her hand on his, a comforting touch this time, and gently says, "I'm sorry."
She sees the K'Aar's expression tighten for a moment. He nods, teeth clenched, then clears his throat and continues, "Now I've got seventy-three clans jockeying for power, playing to each boy's strengths and weaknesses, trying to turn one of the two of them into figureheads they can rule. And if I could get most of them behind either one, it would probably… in the long run… be okay. Rocky to start, but…" He looks at Jon and K'Rith … "I know those two know this, but maybe, my lady, you don't. There's nothing so gloriously stupid as a twenty-two-year-old man. They're old enough to think they know all the answers, and they are genuinely old enough to know some of the answers, but young enough to not know the difference between some and all."
Jon and the K'Rith both sort of nod at each other.
"As of this point, my experience with twenty-two-year-old men is somewhat limited. But, I can't imagine that Kylo would challenge your statement. He's got a story or two of his own involving silly twenty-two-year olds."
K'Aar looks amused by that. "The Great Lord Ren was a twenty-two-year-old at one point, then?"
"A decade ago."
K'Aar nods at that. "Thirty-two is a good age. Still young enough to be bold, young enough to be strong, but old enough to understand the mistakes you've made and not make them again." He glances at Rey, and then at her very flat tummy, and back to her face. "It's a good age to start a family. Wise enough to raise children. Young enough to play with them."
Rey's not sure what to do with that, so she smiles at him, and says, "So, Lord K'Aar," she feels Jon flash her the thought K'Aar is his title. You just called him Lord King. She mentally winces, but keeps talking, "ideally, how does this situation work out for your grandsons, and any children they may have?"
He sighs, looks at the water glass, it's clear he'd like something stronger, and a moment later, another server is at their side, looking hurried, with a tray of wines and other beverages that sound impressive and likely are, but Rey doesn't know what they are. She stays with tea.
Once he's got his stronger drink, (Llethein Brandy with a citronen twist) he says, "Ideally, one of the two of them gathers enough backers that the other one's backers decide that they can't win, so it's not worth the fight."
"Right now they are almost equally split, which is why we're seeking to bring you in. If we can… overbalance the scales so to say, that should avoid a massive war," K'Rith replies.
"And do you, honestly, not have a preference as to which one… wins… for lack of a better word?" Rey asks.
The K'Aar looks tired. "I wish they'd been born one child. As a man, they'd be ideal, bold and smart. As they are, it's just a questions of whose folly is preferable, and given their backers… It won't matter much. None of my warlords are suicidal, stupid, or twenty-two. Right now, it's worth risking a fight, because they can still win. Once it's clear they can't, they should fall in line, and if they do, they'll find a way to work around each boy's shortcomings."
"What will the losing grandson do?" Jon asks.
"K'Ahauna will sulk, but toe the line. He'll become a valuable servant to his brother, if his brother will listen to him, but that's a big if. K'Oanan will run away. Leave the kingdom, see if his backers will go with him, but they won't. I imagine he'll be rather surprised by that. He's genuinely sure they actually think he'll be a good K'Aar. Once that's settled in, he may turn pirate and make things difficult, but he won't be able to rise a full war. And, in time, his brother and his advisers will outfight him," The K'Aar says.
"That sounds like K'Ahauna is the more suitable of your grandsons," Threepio says.
"And with your backing he may be. He's also the one in the weaker position. Not by much, but by enough."
Rey nods.
Ilnor K'Rith continues, "And that position is made worse by the fact that he just refuses to make a decision until he cannot possibly put it off any longer. I've never met a boy so prone to dither. His instincts are generally good, but… He got one wrong, a serious one, when he was younger, and since then he's dithered and dithered and dithered."
"What did he get wrong?" Jon asks.
"A troop placement. It was a sim, but he was sure he was right, but he wasn't, and got his entire army slaughtered. Again, it was a sim, no on actually died. The lesson that sim is meant to teach is that you cannot, always, win. There is no correct troop placement for that sim. You cannot win it. You can minimize your casualties, but you can't win. He spent months running it over and over and over again, and… It seems to have shattered him. He's never been sure of anything ever since."
"With the confidence of a few wins, he might be better?" Rey asks. Though she feels a bit of kindred spirit in a man who, not being able to win, is terrified of playing.
The K'Aar replies, "He might. But he'd have to actually play the game to win. The only reason he hasn't capitulated to his brother is that doing so would require him to make a decision which would disappoint some of his backers. These days the merest hint of someone being irked with him sends him into a sulk."
"How is he handling your feelings on this?" Jon asks.
"Mostly by hiding and writing stories in which he runs away to become an actor."
"Is there any shot of him actually doing it?" Threepio asks.
K'Aar laughs. Then he takes another drink. "He currently doesn't have a way to get off planet, and no theater troop on our world would have him. That said, his backers have pointed out that if he wants to act they're more than willing to write the script for him, all he's got to do is stand up and do it. The role of a life-time, K'Aar of the K'Aran."
"The role he doesn't want?" Rey asks.
Ilnor ways, "Maybe. Sometimes, K'Ahauna seems like he likes it. When there are people around him who want him to be the K'Aar, he likes it. When they aren't, it seems like he's about to crumble under the pressure. At the very least, he's under no illusions as to why his backers want him."
It's Threepio who asks, "Tell us about their lead backers. If it really doesn't matter which boy we choose, then which of their handlers may be preferable?"
"T'Karnan and T'Chondra." Rey's dying here, all of the names sound identical to her, but she can feel Jon and Threepio have them down. "They were my son's two highest ranked warlords. Each of them are family friends. The boys grew up with them as Uncles."
Rey can glom onto that. "So this isn't just a political issue, it's… saving your family, isn't it? If someone else makes the decision…"
K'Aar glances to his diplomat, and then nods. "A leader should always be willing to make the hard decisions. These are my grandsons, being backed by men I helped raise along with my son. I… can make this decision. I do not want to."
"And this way, none of them can cry favoritism," Jon adds.
"Exactly."
"And it increases the odds that whichever one we pick, the other will go along peacefully," Rey says.
The K'Aar nods at that, too. "If I can get both advisers behind one boy, things will, eventually, transition smoothly."
Rey looks at the adviser who is with them. "But they aren't here?"
The K'Aar inclines his head a bit. "I thought it would be valuable to have the boys spend some time with each other, without their 'dearest Uncles.' And, it occurred to me, that… since you offer… a place… for anyone who wants one… Perhaps, if one of them won't be in the business of the K'Aran system, maybe they might fit in here?"
"A refuge for wayward princes?" Jon asks.
"Your Master did well with that, did he not?" Ilnor replies.
"He has," Rey replies. "That said, wayward princes who come here enlist just like everyone else. The day you join the Order is the day your old life becomes nothing beyond memories."
The K'Aar inclines his head. "And that may be exactly what one of my boys needs. Or not. We'll see. It's good to have options, I'd think."
"It is," Jon replies. "It's also good to know what they are. Part of the goal of the Order, and of our space here is to provide a platform for people to work with each other, to achieve their goals. Perhaps, at some point, there could be a K'Aran embassy here. A place for the K'Aran dynasty to make deals, learn about others—"
"Stow an extra prince where he can't make too much trouble," The K'Aar adds.
"That would likely depend on how much of an allowance you put him on and the leeway offered him by his entourage," Jon replies. "Our job would mostly be to keep him comfortable and breathing."
"We are, after all, in the security business," Threepio adds.
"If he were to enlist, but that would have to be voluntary," Rey adds, "he likely couldn't get in much trouble at all."
"Or he could be fatally chopped in half," Ilnor says.
"If he's the kind of man who goes so afoul of the Order's laws that we need to chop him in half, you're better off without him, and without having to deal with him personally," Rey says, staring Ilnor in the eye.
That response seems to please the K'Aar.
And Ilnor is thinking about that. Hard.
He sips his drink as the server comes to them with small plates of little nibbles. More of that appetizer salad that Rey and Kylo had had with Myrton. It's good. Rey makes herself eat slowly. She paces herself to Jon, who is good at taking a bite, talking, and then taking another one.
After tasting, and chatting a bit about the food, Rey asks, "Just to make sure, splitting your holdings and creating a… dual system with an ironclad peace treaty…"
"Would fail within days of my death. Likely within hours of launching my body to the stars."
"Even if we offer to hold the peace? Immediate, overpowering force against any aggressor?" Rey offers.
The K'Aar thinks about it, but doesn't say anything. Rey can feel that he doesn't love or like the idea, but it's tenable.
"Even if it could hold, we don't want it," Ilnor says. "Urathan spent decades building up this system. He and his have worked ceaselessly to turn a loose assortment of tribes and planets into a dynasty. To see it split…"
All of them can feel the pain at that idea. Rey looks at Urathan. He built this for his son, for his family, and the idea that not only is his boy gone, but the system he built for him, too… It's too much to bear.
"We will make sure any solution we produce involves your holdings staying united," Threepio says.
"Thank you." The K'Aar looks at Rey, seriously, "And do you have any thoughts of how this is going to work out?"
"Not many, not as of yet. My friend, Poe, is meeting with your boys. And before I consult with him, I'll meet them, too. From there, we'll have the start of a plan."
"Good."
Poe's leading K'Ahauna and K'Oanan through the Supremacy. They look gobsmacked. K'Ahauna's willing to let it show. He's gaping at the sheer scale and size of the thing. K'Oanan is trying to cover how impressed he is by looking bored.
Poe mentally rolls his eyes. Awe is the appropriate response to a ship the size of the Supremacy. The person who isn't awed by the Supremacy the first time he sees it is fearfully stupid or completely lacking in imagination.
"Either of you two fly?" Poe asks them.
"We haven't been trained," K'Ahauna replies as K'Oanan's saying, "It's inappropriate for a prince to fly himself anywhere."
"Come on," Poe says. "We've got sims here."
K'Ahauna looks intrigued at that, a little excited, and K'Oanan's… that's interesting. His sabbac face is good. Poe's better at reading people than he is at hiding his emotions, and he can see K'Oanan's nervous about this. He's afraid that Poe'll see him be bad at it.
Poe had mostly been interested in just letting them do something fun, but… He decides that he really should push them through their paces in this thing. Neither of them have done it before, and it'll be telling to see how they respond to something difficult not going their way.
"In this part of the galaxy, being able to fly yourself is a survival skill. Like… What's the sort of thing that any adult male is supposed to be able to do where you are?"
"Fight," both of the boys say at once.
"This is like fighting. If you can't fly yourself… You've got to be able to fly yourself. You're not a man if you can't fly yourself." Poe knows he's got them. Neither of them want him to see them as boys. "Come on, let's go try the sims, it's fun."
"What do you fly, Master Poe?"
"Right now, I've got Micah. He's not the sexiest thing to ever skitter through the heavens, but he'll get the job done. Before that, I had a T-70 X-Wing."
It's clear the boys don't know what a T-70 is and are vague on the idea of X-Wings, too.
"It's a fighter. A tight, sexy little thing with s-foils for greater range of fire, four KX12 laser cannons, with single, dual, and quad firing modes, dual proton canons, top speed of 1,100 klicks per hour, and hyperdrive."
They're staring at him, eyes glazed.
"It was really fast and I could shoot through ten meter thick durasteel with my lightest gun. The big ones could take out the armor shielding on a Star Destroyer." Not strictly true, but true enough.
That means something to the boys. They look impressed. More impressed by Poe, too.
"Are you a warrior, Commander Poe?" K'Ahauna asks.
"I am in the cockpit of a ship. Outside of the cockpit of a ship, I'm more of a scrapper."
"Scrapper?" K'Oanan asks.
"The kind of guy who fights mean and dirty. I prefer not to fight. I'd rather talk, but if you've pissed me off so bad I've pulled a blaster or blade on you, I'm not messing around. One of is us going to walk away, and the other is going to stop breathing."
"And you are still here with us," K'Ahauna says.
"And I'm still here. And they aren't." His voice is mild as he says that. His eyes aren't. He sort of wishes Jon were here to see this, because he's now got two man puppies following him around like he's God's gift to the Supremacy.
A few minutes later he says, "Okay here we are. Order flight training." Fortunately, he can see a few empty sims. So, looking like he belongs, and that this is his personal playground, he just strides right over, slides into the nearest one, and begins to flip it on. "K'Ahauna, slide on in, this one is ready to go. Day one, lesson one. Just follow the instructions on the screen."
He hops out and grabs the one next to it, aware of the officer heading toward them, and the wave of What the fuck is this? coming off of him.
"In you go, K'Oanan." He pats the younger man on the shoulder, and before the officer can get within easy speaking voice, Poe hits him with, "At ease, Lieutenant."
Before the lieutenant can even think about it, his body is responding.
Poe smirks a bit. In well-trained-men a good voice, a better stare, and the right word will work wonders. Just by barking that out, the lieutenant has already decided Poe's not just an officer, but one who outranks him. By a lot.
He's mentally smirking at that, too. Really, not bad for a flyboy from Yavin IV.
"What's the issue Lieutenant?"
Act like you belong, like you're the one where you need to be, and everyone else is an imposition, and they'll bend for you.
"I'm sorry, sir. Those sims… No one is supposed to be in them, right now, sir." The poor man looks so horribly embarrassed to have to say this.
Poe leans against K'Oanan's sim, and grins. "I'm sure you're right. I'm Commander Dameron, here with the K'Aran delegation, Grand Marshall Frakes and Master Ren have me entertaining our guests, while their grandfather meets with Lady Ren and General Threepio to discuss matters of state. Lieutenant" He reads the nametag, "OP-9987, can you tell our guests about our sim program?"
Lt. OP-9987 snaps into attention. "Yes, sir."
Poe gestures to the boys to get them out of the sims and listening to the lieutenant. They listen, nod, K'Ahauna asks good questions, and K'Oanan continues to try and make it look like he knows everything about everything.
When they're done, Poe smiles at OP-9987 and says, "Thank you, Lieutenant. I'll be sure to mention to the Grand Marshall how helpful you were today." And, the kicker is, he will. Might as well make sure this doesn't bite the man later. "Now, K'Oanan, K'Ahauna, let's turn these babies on and let you feel what it's like to fly."
A minute into the sim, Poe feels like he knows all he needs to know about each boy.
K'Oanan's whooping with pleasure as he glides his sim, fast and easy, through imaginary space. He's got a natural touch for this, and, apparently no natural fear response. That's a core trait for a really good combat fighter. It's also a core trait for a really dead combat fighter.
Poe mentally sighs. This is how he used to fly before Micah.
K'Ahauna is going slow. He's checking and rechecking and checking again before he makes any move. He, like his brother, does seem to have something of a natural touch for this. The press up to go down and left to go right controls don't appear to be giving him any troubles. The fact that he won't turn until he's checked and checked and checked and…
Unfortunately, that's another way to end up with a very dead pilot.
Put him in a battle and they'd shoot him to pieces before he'd pulled the trigger on anything.
Poe reaches into K'Ahauna's machine. "Here, let's spice it up a bit." Maybe upping the stakes will help. He adds other fliers to the mix, and attacking fighters.
K'Ahauna is dead in twenty-three seconds.
He does the same for K'Oanan, with similar results. K'Oanan at least took some with him. But, he didn't check enough, and got sniped from the left. K'Ahauna checked too many times, and got sniped from behind before he got a shot off.
K'Ahauna looks ashamed. He's worried about not learning it fast enough, and making the wrong decision, and… He's waiting for Poe to tell him he's failed, and that he's a miserable pilot, and he'll never be a man by Poe's standards. Poe mentally winces. He's seen this kicked puppy look before in a bunch of other new recruits. Generally his job is to jolly them out of it. Other trainers, ones with a natural knack for it, can kick asses and grind them down, his job is to make them feel like they can do whatever it is.
He resets the sim. "We all get shot down the first time. It's normal. Go at it again. Keep your eyes moving, and… They're laser weapons, you're not going to run out of charges, so just shoot everything you see."
"I'd hit my own men," K'Ahauna says.
"In a real battle, yes, but right now, you're learning to aim, and aim fast and accurate, so right now, the second you see something, shoot. Once you can hit what you're aiming at, you can afford to get picky."
K'Ahauna nods, and gets back to it.
K'Oanan's angry. He's glaring at the machine. "It doesn't work."
Poe doesn't roll his eyes. He generally didn't have to handle the know-it-alls. And he's been lucky enough with the Lirium kids that they tend not to pull that shit. Possibly because in a place where more than half of the kids around you can read your mind, pretending you know it all just doesn't work.
"It's supposed to put the fighters where I can see them so I can practice aiming."
"Of course, K'Oanan. If you like, I can drop it down to the basic level where it will keep the fighters in the front 45 degrees."
"That wasn't the basic level?"
Of course it was, but he can make it easier. He can put it on just a flight simulator and leave off the firing capacity all together. That said, he's feeling no need to argue with the kid. "No. I thought you'd find the challenge invigorating."
"Oh… yes…" He's looking quite satisfied at that. "Can you make it harder?"
Poe leans in, presses the buttons until he's set it again at where it was before. "Certainly. Just keep your eyes moving, and shoot with abandon. It'll be fun."
"Oh, it is fun! When we get back, I think I'm going to tell them to arrange for pilot training for me."
"That sounds like an excellent idea." At the very least, doing so might take care of the which-one-of-these-two-will-run-things-when-Pops-dies aspect of this. He figures that if K'Oanan gets serious about flight training, his life expectancy is going to drop like a rock in 3G.
After taking them through the sim a few times, and getting them to the point where they can both survive from beginning to end of the basic combat level, Poe begins to wander the boys toward the F-deck. Feed them up, see how they deal with being in public, around lots of other people, how they treat people who are 'lesser' than they are…
That sounds like a plan.
Then back to Rey.
"This ship is immense," K'Ahauna says, twenty minutes later, when they're still on an elevator going up.
"I'd call it a city. It's a flying city, not a ship."
"That's a problem when you need to get somewhere fast," K'Oanan says.
"You aren't wrong. Though like with most cities, most people live near where they work. How about you two? You live…"
"In a palace outside the capitol city," K'Ahauna says.
"Do you work in the palace?" Poe asks.
"Oh, yes, of course," K'Oanan replies, quickly, too quickly. Poe knows he's lying, but he's not sure if he's lying about location or the idea that he works.
"Where do you live, Commander Dameron?"
"All over. My home is my ship, and it goes wherever I've got an urge to go."
K'Ahauna looks wistful at that. "That must be… wonderful."
"There's a lot I like about it, but it can also be lonely. BB-8, that's my mech droid, is good company, but he's still a droid."
"Just you in that ship?" K'Oanan asks.
"A lot of the time." The elevators open, and they're on the F-Deck. "That said, I'm not attached to the ship. I do leave it, and," he gestures, "I have found other places with people in them."
"They don't salute you or come to attention," K'Oanan says, eyes wide, a low, shocked simmer of anger on Poe's part in his tone as they walk through the deck.
"Be calm, kid." That annoys K'Oanan, too. He doesn't like being called 'kid' or 'boy.' It does please his brother. "We're on the F-Deck. Everyone here is off duty, or maybe looking for someone off-duty. This is their home, where they play and relax. Being a good commander lesson the first: Treat thy subordinate's off time as sacred and do not trod upon it unless it cannot be avoided."
"Why? They're there to serve you." K'Oanan says, petulant, not liking this at all.
"No, it's their job to serve you, and when they're off duty, they aren't working, so back off. You don't want your granddad barging in on you at whatever time you like to sleep demanding to attend him at once, so don't do that to the people under you."
"What if they don't have off time?" K'Ahauna asks.
"Then the first thing you do when you get home is hire another one, or take care of it yourself for ten hours or so a day, and at least a few days a cycle, and make sure they've got some off time. No one does a good job if they're on all the time." He looks around. "This didn't pop up in the two years since Kylo took over. Even Snoke understood his men needed off time. What do you two study? You know, your how to be a king stuff?"
"Politics, history, economics—" K'Ahauna begins.
"Fighting, battle tactics, hand to hand weapons, command skills," K'Oanan continues.
Poe nods at that. "Okay, I'm going to suggest something. Ask Grandpa who he thinks really bad commanders are, and then go study them. Learn how not to do it."
"Who do you think were especially bad commanders?" K'Ahauna asks.
"I think Snoke was one."
"Didn't he rule for a thousand years?" K'Oanan adds.
"Yes, but I know the guy who cut him in half pretty well, so I'm going to guess the only reason he stuck around that long is that it took a really long time for him to tangle with another Force user who could stand up to him. Not because he was any good at command."
"And even he knew his men needed off time?" K'Oanan says.
"Even he knew his men needed off time, things to amuse themselves, good food and places to live and… He was a shit boss, and he broke more men and things than anyone has any right to, but even he was aware of the fact that he had people working for them, and people have needs.
"If you ignore your people's needs for too long, they'll make you pay for it."
The boys think about that, as Poe steers them toward a food cart with a long line next to it. "Lesson the second, if fifty people are willing to queue up for something to eat, and there's piles of other places to eat around, whatever's at the end of that line is going to be good."
It was. Poe's not sure what it is. He just asked for three of them and handed one each to the boys. They're some sort of pasty filled with… veggies and protein and a thick, savory spicy sauce, and… When he comes back, he'll try to find this cart again.
"What's the third lesson?" K'Ahauna asks as they continue to walk through the F-Deck eating their pasties.
It takes Poe a moment to think, and then he says, "Explain you orders. Unless it's a literal, 'we're all gonna die if this doesn't happen now' situation, and those are awfully rare, if someone asks what you're doing, or why, explain. It shouldn't take you more than a few minutes, it'll make you look reasonable, and even if it's not satisfying to the person asking, it likely will be to the people around him."
"And if they still don't like it?" K'Ahauna asks.
"Listen. Find out why. You don't have to agree. You don't have to accede to their plans. But if you explain and you listen, you'll have an easier time getting people to go along with you, and likely a better plan when you're done." Poe looks around the F-Deck. "There's got to be what… Twenty-thousand people roaming around here. And, sure, one of them has to be the smartest of the bunch. But I know it's not me, and it isn't either of you, and, honestly, it won't be the same person on every topic. So, the more you talk, the more you listen, the more you can take advantage of the brains around you, and trust me, you'll need them."
K'Ahauna is listening. K'Oanan isn't. He's… Poe follows his gaze, ogling a very pretty Captain, not even remotely subtly, he's almost drooling. Judging by the letters instead of a name on her uniform, she came up through the Hux method, and could likely castrate him in less than thirty seconds if she weren't feeling properly respected.
Poe's almost tempted to give him a little nudge and tell him to say hello, but… He's supposed to be showing them a good time, not tormenting any poor soul that K'Oanan's going to try to chat up. And one glance at the Captain, who appears to be having a good time with her buddies, and is not, on any level Poe can see, interested in having a horny puppy come up and drool on her, tells Poe that while letting K'Oanan free on her might be a good time for him and K'Ahauna, it won't be fun for her.
So, instead, he gently taps the bottom of K'Oanan's chin, and says, "Mouth closed unless you're about to put some food in it. Women generally don't appreciate being drooled over, and that one's really not going to appreciate your attention."
K'Oanan blinks, shudders, and scowls. "She's too thin, anyway." He looks around. "What's wrong with the women here? They're… all men!"
Poe laughs at that. "I think they'd disagree." He certainly does.
K'Oanan's shaking his head. "They're… strong and lean and thin and… Not a single one of them is pregnant, and…"
He's wrong about that. In easy eyesight, Poe can see a few who aren't built like Rey. And he's fairly sure that two of them are pregnant, but they're likely the wives or daughters of officers. He doesn't think you can be pregnant and on-duty with the Order, but he doesn't know that for sure.
"Given how you were staring, it looks like you like men, then. Wipe the drool off your chin and eat your pasty."
K'Oanan leaps up, apparently that's an insult where he comes from, and Poe just rolls his eyes. K'Ahauna's laughing his ass off next to them, enjoying this way too much.
"Say that to my face."
Poe, sitting down, legs wide, puts his pasty down, and laconically glances up at K'Oanan. "Kid, if you start a fight with me, your brother's going to end up ruling your kingdom."
"Because you'll decide against me?" He sounds ready to chance it.
"Because they'll have to mop up your remains with a squeegee and bury you in a jam jar. Tell me you aren't genuinely so fucking stupid as to get into a fight with a Commander on his own ship in the middle of thousands of armed officers. Holy Force man, yank your shaft out of your head, tuck it back in your pants where it belongs, and start thinking with your brain."
K'Oanan goes pale, glances around at, as Poe said, literally thousands of armed officers, swallows, and sits down.
"Good choice," Poe says.
K'Oanan finishes his pasty in silence.
The serving staff cleans up the remains of the 'gracious luncheon' part of the meeting, and Rey's feeling like she's got a pretty good read on the K'Aar.
And, more than that, she likes him, too.
Maybe he likes her, also.
Granted, he seems to like her in the way he'd like any sort of marvel. She's so far outside of his normal understanding of how the universe is supposed to work, that he doesn't know what to do with her, so, apparently, he decided to just enjoy her.
She's fine with that.
She looks to Jon, "I understand that Poe will return with the boys soon?"
Jon nods. "Then he'll present them to you, and you can talk to them a bit. Then we'll reconnoiter, have a chat, and then bring you in to talk more. In the meantime, K'Aar, you are welcome to the run of the Supremacy. Threepio will gladly take you wherever you might want to go."
"I do recommend the F-Deck, or, perhaps, if we may be planting a seed of a possible embassy here, you might like to see where we'd think to put it," Threepio says.
"I might, perhaps, be interested in that."
They hear the elevator door open, and right on time, Poe and the boys, and… Rey's not sure where they were lurking, but a collection of Threepio's diplomats appear to phase into existence around them.
Rey's about to start off to meet them midway, but she feels a gentle touch on her wrist. Jon's. She can read what he's telling her. She's the queen. They come to her.
So, she lets them.
Poe's grinning at her. "Have a good time, Commander?" she asks when he's in voice range.
"I think we did," he replies.
This isn't her first view of the boys, but this is the first time she's 'interacting' with them. She's not sure why they did it that way, but assumes it's some flourish of K'Aran culture she's not aware of.
Once the boys are a bit closer, Poe turns to the first of them. He has longer hair, and his outfit is blue. "Mistress, this is K'Ahauna, Prince of the K'Aran dynasty."
Rey nods to him, and then she's pulled up short. K'Ahauna offers her his hand. That's… not part of the script, not as she remembers it, but she's not feeling any sense of alarm or 'tread carefully' from Jon or Poe, so she takes his hand.
He smiles at her, gently lifts her hand to his lips, and kisses the back of it. Then he lets go, looks her in the eyes, and says, "My pleasure, Mistress."
She can feel from the K'Aar that this is… mildly salacious. K'Ahauna has walked just up to the edge of proper behavior, but hasn't stepped over the line.
Rey nods at him again, and then turns her attention to his brother. He's wearing his blonde hair short, and his outfit which is tighter and more… modern… Rey guesses, is green.
"And this is K'Oanan," Poe adds.
K'Oanan takes her hand, like his brother, but unlike his brother he flips it over, brings it to his lips, and then gently licks her wrist.
Rey's eyes close for a second, and she's not sure how to respond to that. She's fairly sure that that is not a standard K'Aran greeting.
He looks up at her, wide green eyes, screaming with mischief. "Oh, my lady. I would know you, and offer you my unflagging, indefatigable service." And then he kisses her palm.
Or, at least he starts to, but his grandfather, breaking out of his shock, and the all encompassing wave of mortification, moving faster than any man his age looks like he could, grabs him by the back of the neck, and bodily tosses him a few meters away, hissing, "This is a married woman and you are a guest in her husband's home. Would you shame all of us?" He turns his attention to Rey. "Lady Rey… I am… so sorry."
Everyone else in the room is staring between K'Oanan and her, and then just her, waiting to see what Rey will do with this. She can feel everyone on the K'Aran side of things, besides K'Oanan, who's for the most part, enjoying the spectacle, is horrified.
Rey inclines her head. She wants to make sure she understands exactly how far over the line K'Oanan went. "Threepio, I've apparently lost the idiom between our native languages, what was Lord K'Oanan offering me?"
She can feel Threepio blush, metal face be damned.
"Mistress… He was… Looking to know you carnally, and the services he was offering were sexual."
Rey nods, and steps over to K'Oanan, who is lying on the floor. She looks down at him, coolly, feeling what he was attempting and why he did it. Partially, it's blind stupid lust. She's a young female, and apparently he's still in what Kylo refers to as the 'shaft on legs' part of life. Partially, it's putting her in her place, showing her that he's a man and she's a woman, and women are for bedding, not ruling. Partially, it's showing the people around, the ones he assumes will judge his worthiness to be the next K'Aar, that he's bold and willing to take risks.
He's grinning up at her, not chastised at all by his grandfather's scolding.
"You are young and stupid and horny. You wish to show me you are bold, willing to take risks to get what you want, and what you think your people need. Boldness is a virtue. Sometimes. Used wisely. The willingness to take risks to get what you need is also a virtue, again, used wisely."
"A strong woman needs a bold man," he says, looking up at her, a grin on his lips and a smirk in his eyes.
"And I have one. One who risked considerably more for me than a bloodied lip and an irked grandfather." K'Oanan licks his lips. They aren't bloodied. Yet. In one move, Rey yanks him up with her Force, holds him steady, slaps him open handed across the face, making sure her marriage band catches his lip, and then drops him. His lip is bleeding, now. "One wise enough to know when to take that risk. One who earned my company, instead of asking for it with an impertinent quip.
"If you live long enough, your virtues may come in handy, but only if you live long enough." And right now, it's abundantly clear that she's more than capable of ending him if she desires. "Keep letting your shaft make the decisions, and you won't live long enough for your boldness to be a virtue. Are we clear?"
Rey can feel this isn't working the way she hoped. He's gazing up at her, moon in his eyes, lust spiking his blood. "Yes, Mistress."
Rey sits with Jon and Poe, in Kylo's office.
Poe gives his report on the boys, and wraps up with, "And… yeah. Well, we all saw that. He's… easily distracted… I guess is the polite way to put it."
"'So fucking stupid,' is how his grandfather put it," Rey adds.
Poe snerks a quick laugh at that. "Yeah, well… He's not stupid in the sense of can't learn. I put them on the flight sims, and he picked it up quick enough. There's likely the making of a decent pilot in K'Oanan."
"If he doesn't get killed when someone comes up on his blind spot," Jon adds. Poe'd already told them about the results of the sim test.
Poe inclines his head.
"In K'Oanan's… extremely limited… defense," Colonel Jefferies says, "We did not introduce you as Lady Ren, and in his culture, unattached women are considered fair game."
"Prey to be hunted?" Rey asks.
"Basically," Threepio replies. "But, as you also saw, his brother and grandfather had the sense to not immediately proposition you, so… fair game you might have been, but they were cautious enough to understand we wouldn't have brought you up just to entice them."
The other advisers nods at that. Jon glances between them, and then says, "Well… Supposedly we're in the sorting this out business. Thoughts?"
And then the talking begins.
Rey listens, and listens, and doesn't say much. They bang ideas around, play with them, ask Poe more questions about the boys. Flight sims are recorded for training purposes, so they pull them up to see how the boys did with them. They talk more, and after an hour are starting to get the shape of a plan into place.
They are, given the political climate of K'Aar, likely offering a very good plan. They'll back K'Oanan. None of them really like that, because, well, he's a twit. But a twit who's willing to make decisions is preferable to the timid one. (Or, as Poe put it when he was showing off the flight sims, 'The guy who makes the hasty, gut decision might get himself and the people around him killed. The man who makes no decision will.) So, to counter that, they'll set his grandfather as a Lord Regent for five years, meaning that until he's twenty-seven, he'll be able to make decisions, and his grandfather will have absolute veto power over them.
Probably not ideal, but as good as it's going to get, and with any luck, by the time K'Oanan is twenty-seven, he'll have learned a bit of humility and some manners, and won't be a walking shaft.
Hopefully.
It's just… That doesn't feel right to Rey. There's… something here, something she can't quite touch, not yet, but…
She lets the talking heads talk around her, figuring out how best to support K'Oanan, and how to arrange their men to make sure his transition is smoothly handled, also where on K'Aar to plop a recruiting station or six.
Jon's talking about how, if they can get K'Ahauna on the Supremacy and in charge of the Embassy here, that he'll be in a place where he can do minimum damage, and maybe, over time start to get more comfortable in his own skin, and who knows, eventually he might be able to do some decent ruling on his own, and they can put him into play, then.
Rey breathes deep and easy, letting herself calm, and just feel it.
After a moment, she says, "Has the K'Aran society ever had a co-regent?"
The talking heads are all too polite to talk over Lady Ren, but it's clear they're quite surprised that she's offering up an idea. They were under the impression they'd make the decision and she'd just… look good and provide it.
It's also clear they're under the impression that co-regent, beyond the current level of K'Aar having veto power over K'Oanan is something that just… isn't fitting.
But she can feel Jon warming to where she's going to take this.
And Threepio looks intrigued.
"What are you thinking, Mistress?" Poe says.
"K'Oanan is too bloody stupid to rule anything successfully, and he's not going to magically grow a brain in the next five years."
It's clear her advisers may not disagree with that, though they are shocked at her putting it that bluntly. She's not being diplomatic.
Jefferies says. "You're likely right, Mistress, but in five years the situation will have calmed down enough that the warlords will be stable, and they'll guide him how they like."
"Yes… I was listening as you've said that before. But… What about K'Ahauna? He should be part of this."
"He'll likely turn adviser to his brother, and his brother will ignore him, and K'Oanan will be a weak king, ruled by his yet unknown queen who will be put in place by the warlords around him."
Rey purses her lips. "I don't like that. K'Aar won't like that. What if we had both boys rule?"
Her "advisers" just look at her. It's clear that none of them want to say what they're all thinking, namely they've spent every hour since this deal has been in the offing coming up with a good solution given the constraints of the culture they're working with, and she's been on the job for three hours as best they know, and she's shoving her ass into places it doesn't belong.
Jon looks perversely satisfied.
She can feel Threepio looking at her, but thinking of Han Solo.
Jon says, "Obviously, that's a possible response. But… how would you sell it to them? The current K'Aar is someone they're used to having rule. Extending his power and gently tapering it off will be easily swallowed. Two… kings… even for the boys themselves… They're unlikely to see it as acceptable."
Rey thinks about it. Poe's cheering her, mentally, on. He's got the sense she's moving in the right direction here, too.
"We'll fight. One on one. Me versus each of the boys."
Her advisers look ready to pass out at that idea. Poe's grinning like this is the best thing he's ever heard. Jon's approving.
"I'll beat each of them. Easily." And it's possible that a certain level of ass-kicking for K'Oanan would improve the outlook of the day for her.
"And this is going to make them want to rule together, how?" Jefferies asks.
"Then I'll let them fight me two on one, and let them win. We all think K'Ahauna, if he could get some confidence, would be a better leader than K'Oanan." She gets a quick flash of a future… She doesn't know if it's real, or her imagination. It feels real, but her image of her and Kylo building in the sunshine felt real, too, and it hasn't happened. This flash is K'Oanan, a bloody mess, dead. He's not going to learn to be a decent ruler because in the next five years he's going to get himself killed, likely by an extremely irate husband. "I've got to topple him one on one so we can get to a place of both of them working together." Maybe, if they work together, they might rub off on each other some, and… maybe they won't end up with a future where K'Oanan is dead, and K'Ahauna is out of the picture, and the warlords are fighting among themselves. "But if they can 'beat me' as a team, maybe they'll see the other one as valuable, and we can show them working together as a better alternative than the two of them separately."
"We'll keep the part of the current K'Aar as the regent, but," Jon's grinning, "I like this. They want us to show off strength and power. The idea that, and you'll hopefully forgive this Rey, that even our women can beat the shit out of their best warriors, will go a long way to cementing the idea of power here, and then when they work together… You won't let them win easy, right?"
"Of course not. I'll… just barely, slip on something or whatever, and let one of them pin me, but it won't be easy, and I'll keep them bouncing off each other enough that they'll feel like they were working together, not one was just carrying the other one."
"And how will you get K'Ahauna to do anything other than pout in the corner?" Colonel Jefferies asks.
Rey smiles. "I have my ways. It'll work."
It's abundantly clear that, as professionals in their own service, not a single one of them would be willing to give Rey the benefit of the doubt on this. It's also clear, that as members of the Order, they're all aware of the fact that Rey knows all of their names and faces, and they are, to say the least, nervous about what Kylo will do to them when he gets up if they do not, at least give lip service, to his lady's idea.
It does help that Jon likes this, because, well… If it goes completely pear shaped, and beating the shit out of the K'Aran boys is, in fact, not the right plan, they can blame it on him.
After all, if the Grand Marshal, and the Master's Lady are on board for this plan, who are they to say no?
The first step in the plan is getting the K'Aar to back it. Nothing they've got on offer is going anywhere without his permission.
He listens, he nods, he listens more, and then he turns to Rey and says, "You know, if you just want to hit him a few times as a response to his comment, you're more than welcome to. This… Isn't necessary if it's just about maintaining honor."
That wasn't the response they were hoping for.
Rey rubs her lips together. Then she says, hoping the diplomats won't pass out when she says this, "It's not that smacking him upside the head with a staff a few times won't improve my day. It certainly will."
The K'Aar smirks at that. Ilnor seems to approve, too. Seems to approve of her, personally, for the first time today.
"It's that… You want your kingdom to continue onto the next generation. And you said it yourself, you'd hoped they been one child. Well, they aren't. And it appears the most likely result of this, is that K'Oanan ends up in charge, with us backing the settlement, and you steering for the first several years, and all of us hoping that he can grow up enough to not ruin your kingdom."
She takes a breath, and then makes herself say it, "And I think we know how that works out in the long run. He does something stupid. Painfully stupid. The kind of stupid you don't come back from."
"Like attempting to poach a stronger man's wife out of his own home," Ilnor says.
"Sure. The sort of thing, where honor demands that whomever he insults kills him, and we," she gestures, meaning the Order, "won't be within our rights to respond."
"Unless, of course, that's part of a contract you want," Jon adds. "Right now, we're assuming that, should either boy go afoul of civic or cultural mores, and someone seeks to do something about it, making sure they don't isn't part of our job."
The K'Aar nods. "It's about preventing a civil war. Not keeping one of my warlords from cutting the head off the man who cuckolds him." He's rubbing his forehead, looking like he's having way too easy a time believing that would be a problem. Especially if K'Oanan were to add K'Aar to his title.
"Meanwhile, K'Ahauna is lost. Perhaps he joins us. We might, even, given the time, turn him into a decent leader. Tentative, but nothing a few good generals couldn't smooth out. But he'll need time. But, he won't have it. By the time K'Oanan outlives his usefulness, he'll have a son, and that son will end up with a 'regent', and… We're back to whichever of the Uncles ruling things, along with an as of yet unknown queen," Jon says. "That won't be the end of your world, but it's likely not the best alternative we can give you."
"We're hoping, that if we can get them to see the value of each other, and that if we set them as co-regents, with you steering for the time being, they might begin to work together, and… with any luck, they'll rub off on each other. K'Ahauna grows more bold. K'Oanan less so," Rey replies.
"And at the very least, anyone who seeks to topple the one or the other will have the Order to deal with should they try. It will give both of your boys the chance to learn to rule, and grow up some, with a bit of breathing room," Threepio finishes.
The K'Aar takes a deep breath, and thinks, and then nods. Then he says, "And you think it's important that they face you, my lady?"
"I think it is. K'Oanan has it coming. It's time he learn some humility. And it wouldn't hurt K'Ahauna to learn a little confidence. Make some right decisions. And, honestly, when they fight together, it's likely going to take a bit of help for them to do a good job of it, and…" She glances around. "There are myriad brilliant fighters on this ship, but none who I trust to structure a fight so they'll be able to work with each other."
K'Aar nods again. "All right then. And, may I sit in on the fight?"
"Certainly," Rey says.
Ilnor says, "And, can we get a recording of it. Co-regents is not part of our traditions, so… something to help prove the idea that this is wise would help."
"I'm certain we can arrange that, too," Jon replies.
It's a warm rush of liquid pleasure. K'Oanan is overjoyed at this plan. He's sure he'll beat their champion in a few hits, and then gain his crown, and crow his way back to the adoring throngs of the K'Aran dynasty.
When he realizes that champion is going to be Rey, he's beyond overjoyed. He's not just fantasizing about his future as the K'Aar, he's also inundated by a lot of deeply (at least to him) erotic images of the two of them fighting, and…
Rey sighs loudly as he's blasting everyone nearby (or just her. She's the only Force sensitive around, though she's genuinely concerned if this is 'loud' enough for Kylo to pick it up. She lets her mind wander to his, but apparently he's sleeping, and… That's probably a good thing right now. She wants to tame this kid, not get him murdered.) with the image of the two of them, him 'victorious' on top of her, pumping away.
K'Ahauna is nervous. That's pouring off of him. He's afraid he's going to mess this up. Afraid he'll hit Rey too hard, and damage her. Afraid that by pulling his punches, he'll fail at this. He's afraid the Master, wherever the hell it is he might be, may see this, and then show up and personally rip his head right off of his neck for doing this.
"We'll meet in the Master's training gym in an hour then?" Rey says.
K'Oanan is grinning. "We could just go straight to your chambers, my lady."
His grandfather hits him upside the back of the head, hard.
He barely notices.
K'Ahauna swallows hard, and then nods.
K'Oanan is grinning at her. He loves this idea. He's going first. Several reasons for that, not the least of which is that Rey's fairly sure she can't get K'Ahauna to take a swing at her if he genuinely thinks he might hurt her.
Beating some manners into his brother first should help dissuade him of that idea.
"They tell me you've got a husband, love." He's looking her over, and even if their culture isn't a huge proponent of thin, muscular women, he seems to be enjoying the view. "He's obviously not up to the job of taking care of you properly." He looks her up and down. She's standing a few meters off, getting a feel for the training staves. Yes, using her own would be… satisfying, but permanently maiming the boy isn't her plan. "If he were meeting your needs properly, even the idea of this would never occur to you."
She can feel it. His fantasy has morphed. Not only is he going to win his kingship, but he's going to steal her right off this ship. Cuckold the great Master Ren. She's not sure, exactly, what laying horns on a man means, symbolically, she can feel exactly what it means in physical terms, but… Apparently, in their culture it's a massive dishonor to the man cuckolded, and a huge victory for the man who manages to do it.
He doesn't pick out a staff. "Come Lady, no need for that. We can dance skin to skin."
She throws a staff at him, and he catches it before it smacks him in the head. He twirls it around a few times, and then peels off his shirt, showing off. He knows he's pretty, and he wants her to look.
Rey supposes he might be pretty. But he's not hers.
"Well, I suppose I can humor this. Wouldn't want our play to end too quickly." He makes a little kissing gesture at her, and touches the tip of his tongue to his lip.
As she's rolling her eyes at that, he charges.
Two moves, one half step, the dull thwap of staff hitting skin, and he's on the floor on his back. Rey whacks him in the ribs again just to do that.
"If that's your idea of not finishing too quickly, I'd hate to see what you think fast is."
K'Oanan leaps back up. "Lady, if needs be, I'll go all night to satisfy you."
He's so blisteringly stupid it's difficult to fight him.
It's not the Rey's done a lot of fighting. Whacking idiots with her staff on Jakku. And, once she was fully grown, she had enough strength to put some real power into her staff, and… It's not difficult to make a drunk stay down, especially if you don't court trouble by going where there are groups of them.
Then she fought Kylo, and that was an extremely different experience.
Kylo who has not only an immense natural talent at this, but twenty years of training, was a fight. A took-everything-she-had, and would have taken more, if the planet hadn't split, fight.
And then just to up that a bit, she went against the Praetorian Guard with him at her back. None of them, one on one were as good as Kylo, but they also didn't have to be. When you're outnumbered four to one, any given one of the four does not have to be better than you.
If she hadn't been high from not being dead, exalted from Kylo picking her, sure they could do no wrong in that moment, four on one would have likely brought back some bad memories, but… She was so far from Jakku in that moment, it could have happened to someone else.
But here, now, she's got an over eager boy, rushing straight at her, desperate to knock her down and rub all over her.
He's sure he can do it, too. He's half a head taller than she is, probably has twelve kilos on her. He's young and strong, showing off tight muscles, wearing just his trousers. He'd likely take them off if he had anything on under them.
He's focused on the curves he can now see, better, because she's in light trousers and a tank top, hair pulled back, staff in hands.
On this charge, she again, using the exact same technique she did before, trips him and takes him down, and just to do it, she whacks him in the ribs again, and debates getting him in the stones next time, because maybe if they were out of the equation his brain might do some thinking.
He hops back up again, and again tries the exact same attack.
Rey rolls her eyes at that, and stands ready, letting him come to her again. And again, half a step, a minor twist, three whacks, all of them a tad harder than strictly necessary, and on the floor K'Oanan is.
He's looking up at her, lust and adoration in his eyes. She hits him in the thigh just to do it. He moans at the contact and Rey winces, realizing he's liking this, too.
He's back up again, and again she's not, intentionally, looking, but… Now, it's difficult to miss. There is a definite tent in his trousers, and he's subtly squirming, pressing the shaft of the staff against himself. "Please, Lady, another?"
The fact that his grandfather is about to disembowel himself in shame at this is not helping her composure, and apparently Jon's under the impression that Kylo is going to personally kill him for allowing this is also not improving things. Poe and K'Ahuana are having a good time, so that helps, some.
Focus.
She wiggles a finger at K'Oanan, letting him know to advance, and this time he's a hair more wary, not just charging in. Apparently, he is, with enough time, teachable. This time, he wiggles his fingers back at her, waiting for her to come to him. Well… She can't imagine he's any better on defense than he was on offense, so…
This time she's on him, fast and elegant, it takes a few more hits, a jerking pull of her staff behind his knees, the butt of her staff to his sternum, and one final whack to his shoulder, and then he's down.
He'd gasp, but the air is knocked out of him. He'd move, but he's too stunned for that, right now. He lays there, on his back, bruises all over his torso and face rapidly purpling.
Rey stares down at him and raises one eyebrow.
He gasps, hard, finally getting air back into his lungs.
Rey nods. "K'Oanan, you may be excused. I think I've learned all I need to from you."
"Are you sure? We could do another round?" His voice is rough, breathy, and painfully aroused.
Rey smacks him with her staff one more time, hard, in the ribs.
"Yes, Mistress." He scrambles to his feet and slinks off. A med droid immediately hovers over to him, and begins slathering him in bacta patches. She nods to his grandfather, who herds them to the far side of the gym, letting her have a moment with her men.
A moment later Jon and Poe are right next to her.
Jon's blushing, hard. "Gods, Rey, I'm so sorry. When I said this sounded like a good idea… I didn't think he'd… do that."
Poe's about to sprain his lungs he's laughing so hard at the whole thing. When he can breathe again, he says, "He's gonna be spanking it to the image of you standing over him like that for the next year."
Rye slumps and rolls her eyes. "Tell me that's not a common response to a fight?"
Jon and Poe meet each other's eyes. Jon rubs his lips together, and Poe smirks. Finally, Jon says, "Back when I went through training about one in ten of them couldn't keep it down during martial combat exercises."
Poe's chuckling. "A bit less in the Army of the Republic, but… Yeah… Especially the week when we switched trainers. We'd been working with Master Dun, and he was about fifty, knew every mean trick in the book, weighed as much as a junker, and looked just as pretty. Then we got into Mistress Jayne's class, and she was… Shit… I mean… I didn't pop a stand trying to grapple her, but I was probably the only one in the class who didn't. But after the first week, most of the recruits got used to her, but a few of them just couldn't, and she was brutal on them, which just seemed to spur them on even harder, and… Class got a lot easier when we moved onto Master Wheln."
"Wonderful." She's not sure if she'd have suggested this if she had realized that fighting K'Oanan would get him hard. "And how do you think his brother is going to do?"
"He's either going to lay down and beg you to hit him, or maybe, if we're lucky, he'll be decent on defense and fairly tame on offense, and you'll knock his ass down, and he'll just lie there," Poe says.
"Do you want to keep doing this, Rey?" Jon asks.
"Yeah, let's get this done. I'll fight K'Ahauna, then fight them together, and see if I can convince them that they're much better as co-regents with Grandpa advising for them. Hopefully we set that peace in motion, and it'll hold for at least five years."
"Hopefully."
K'Ahauna surprises her. Apparently, with his brother having set the bar so low, he began to relax.
Tame on offense is an understatement. He will not attack her. At all. They just stood there for a solid three minutes, while Rey waited just to see what he'd do, and the correct answer was stand there and gaze at her, loosely holding his staff.
But, once she made her move, he did a good job.
Once she made her move, it took her a solid minute to get him down. Part of that was re-setting her own expectations. K'Oanan had no defense, so she only had to go for his knees, and down he went. Meanwhile, K'Ahauna is comfortable on defense, and with a staff, so he's almost happily playing along.
He's not saying anything. He feels no need to taunt her, and if he's enjoying this on a sexual level, his body isn't showing it off.
(And since he's not projecting how he's feeling about this, Rey decides to just let him have his privacy. She doesn't need to be deep in his mind to fight him.)
On the second round, he actually is enjoying this. He's not a warrior by any stretch of the imagination, but getting to spar with what he's starting to think of as 'a pretty girl' and show his brother up, is improving his day immensely.
On the third round, he does, tentatively, begin an attack. He's circling her, staying out of her range. He's got at least ten centimeters of reach on her, so as long as he doesn't get too close, he can hit her, and she can't hit him.
Rey's twirling her staff, a long slow spin. Keeping it moving so she can get it into any position she needs quickly, but waiting to see what he's going to do.
She feels it the second he decides to try it, knows it's coming, and prepares to block it.
He tosses his staff at her head, and if it had gone according to his plan, she would have gotten her staff up to block, while moving her head back to protect it, and then he would have swept low, grabbing her foot, and yanking her off balance.
Instead she held her staff in front of her, and jumped up, crashing her staff into his, and he, sweeping low for her foot, fell on his face because the foot he was going to grab was almost a meter higher than he'd planned for.
He hits the ground, rolls, and Rey lands lightly beside him. She looks down at him, and nods. "That was a good one."
He smiles up at her. "One more?"
"Nah. I think I know what I need to."
She can feel he's pleased with that.
After watching that, K'Oanan is in a bad mood. Not only did he not get his rocks off. Not only did he not manage to get Rey on the floor, but apparently his timid little brother got her to smile at him.
That image of getting her on the floor is intensifying, and it's not getting any prettier. It's not a victory fuck now. Now, it's revenge. Now, in his mental image, she's crying under him.
Rey rolls her lips, and is wondering if her plan of the two of them together can work.
Or if it should.
"Gentlemen, do you mind if I take a moment with my advisers?" She means Poe and Jon, both of whom have been watching this.
The K'Aar nods. She's got the sense that he also has an idea of what's going through K'Oanan's mind.
"Need to rest up for our big finale? Never much liked an audience, love, but for a chance at you, I'll do it in front of the whole galaxy."
Rey pulls Jon and Poe aside. She's generally entirely willing to trust her own danger sense, but… She also knows that this is a threat she's more sensitive to than normal, and she wants other opinions. She keeps her voice low. "He's setting off my danger sense."
Poe's nodding. "Yeah, I wouldn't turn my back on him. I don't think he can get one over on you, but… There's some nasty in there, hiding under the stupid."
Jon's senses aren't nearly as keen, but he knows a snake when he sees one. "We can call the K'Aar over and scrap this plan right now. I think we've proven that with time and some breathing space K'Ahauna will manage."
Rey bites her lip. "I think he needs a win, at least one. His confidence is growing, but it's fragile."
"Look, fight him, don't fight him, I'm thinking we likely shouldn't suggest the two of them rule together," Jon's saying watching both of them. "Can you set this up to show that fighting together K'Ahauna's the more valuable of the two?"
Rey thinks about that. She nods slowly. "Yeah, probably. Two more fights. I won't put them together. That's... not going to work. Set both of them on defense. After all, the job of the K'Aar is to protect his people, yes?"
"Something like that."
Rey heads back to the middle of the room. She turns to K'Oanan. "Five minutes. Your job is to make sure I don't hit your brother. If, at the end of five minutes, he doesn't have any new bruises, you've succeeded."
"Can I get a kiss if I succeed?"
Rey's never been so tempted to Force choke someone in her life. She smiles at him, cold and dark. "Sure. All the kisses you want. Wherever you'd like them."
His blood pressure spikes, his lust flares, and anything even remotely approaching his common sense or tactical skills just rolls over and dies.
She feels more than hears K'Ahauna say to his grandfather. "I'm going to need a lot of bacta when this is done."
Rey shoots him a quick glance, not exactly commiserating, but he seems to understand. She's setting this to play to his strengths, and he appreciates it.
And that's probably worth a black eye or two.
She will give K'Oanan this, he's fast.
And he's also not impossibly stupid. Having explicitly spelled it out that it's his job to defend, he's not, immediately, charging at her.
But the only defense he knows is good offense, so as soon as Rey starts to close on his brother, he's leaping between them and trying to run her over with his larger size and what he presumes is greater strength.
He's not as strong, or as fast, as he thinks he is, though. And his theory that he can just physically take whatever hit she lays down, because he's assuming that if it's his body that gets hit, and not his brother's he'll win…
Yeah… Well… That's not exactly working out for him.
He's taken three hits, hard ones, when Rey moves back a bit to go for another attack. She says to him, "Is this how you'd defend your home, your people? Just get in the way and take the beating?"
He dodges to the side, and takes a hit to the shoulder. "If I need to."
Rey backs up further. She holds her staff to the side, looking like she's pausing the fight, but the chrono is still running, and she knows how he's going to respond to that opening.
He plays right into it, charging her, fast and hard, barreling towards her, jumping, staff raised, ready to bring it down on her skull, not caring about possibly hurting her, now.
She dodges back, low, turns with his swing, whipping around the path of his weapon, shifting her staff just to her left hand, turning further, twisting, catching his right wrist with the full force of her swing, and everyone hears the crack of his wrist as she shatters it between her staff and his.
He drops like a sack of wet cement, clutching at the now useless limb, to shocked, too hurt, to make a sound, yet. She kneels next to him. "And what do you do when you can't take another hit?"
Rey, calmly, walks over to K'Ahauna and gently bops him on the top of the head with her staff. "Once the med droid is done with him, same challenge, defend your brother for five minutes."
He's looking fast between his brother crying on the floor, and Rey standing calmly in front of him.
She nods to his brother, and then quietly says to him, "Do better."
Apparently, Jon wasn't kidding about morph making you just not care.
K'Oanan went from a screaming, vibrating ball of pain and hate to a fairly mellow human humming contentedly on the floor, wrist in a very complicated mesh of plexi-plast in a bacta tube, looking forward to seeing his brother get spattered even faster than he did.
Between hums, he's babbling about all the different ways he's going to fuck Rey, for about a minute, then the K'Aar asks to speak to the med droid, and a moment later, he's unconscious on the floor, which everyone else appreciates.
A moment later, the K'Aar says to Rey, "Lady… I think the correct answer is abundantly clear at this point, we don't have to—"
She offers him a bit of a smile, and nods to K'Ahauna's who's going through the staves, seeing which one of them feels best in his hand. "Let's let him win one. At the very least we can send him out of here feeling like he deserves this."
"You have more wisdom than your years would suggest."
"Thank you?"
"I meant it as a compliment."
"Good." She looks at the now "sleeping" grandson. "Do you think this will be good for him?"
"I hope it helps him to learn some humility." He looks at her, eyes soft. "I know he's… getting off to a bad start with you, and you are seeing his worst, but… Being an idiot or…" and she knows he's thinking of some of the things he's heard about Kylo Ren over the years, "Evil even, at twenty-two isn't a reliable indicator of who you'll be at thirty."
Rey glances to him. She, obviously, didn't know Kylo at twenty-two, but she's fairly sure he wouldn't have felt like… this. "We can hope. In the meantime…"
"In the meantime, I assume that The Order will suggest K'Ahuana for K'Aar."
"And we'll enforce it. We'll have the details and suggestions worked out before supper, and you can read and change them at your leisure."
"Excellent." He looks to his grandson. "And he appears to have picked his staff."
"Good."
This is fun.
She guesses that if she couldn't feel what K'Ahuana was going to do before he did it, they'd be fairly evenly matched. He is bigger, and were it just muscle for muscle he'd be stronger and faster, but he's not, so…
It's fun.
He's feeling a bit loose and comfortable, like the pressure is off. He's sure he can't fuck it up worse than his brother did, so he's playing, a little. He won't let his guard down, too much. She's pressing him, a little. Going just a touch faster than he'd be comfortable with, making him sweat, but not letting him fail or embarrass himself too badly.
The crack of her staff on his is thrilling and satisfying, and the freedom to really move, to push herself… She hasn't done this sort of fight in a while, and… When Kylo's up and feeling better again, they need to start sparring.
She's looking forward to that, a lot.
The image of him in just a pair of trousers with a staff… Hair back, those eyes on hers… Twirling a staff the way he did with his lightsaber in the forest… That gets her heart pumping faster. And distracts her enough that K'Ahuana manages to land a hit on her. His staff cracks across her face.
He immediately drops his staff and begins to apologize profusely, but Rey waves it off. "We're fighting, you're allowed to hit me if you can."
"But… Lady… Your cheek."
She can feel it swelling. "I don't bruise easily. A little bacta and it'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
She nods. Between some bacta and her Force, her face should be healed by supper. "I'm sure." She glances at the chrono. "Congratulations, you've defended your brother for five minutes.
"I think we know all we need to know. My advisers and I will chat a bit more, and then we'll send a copy of our plan to your grandfather."
K'Ahuana looks almost like he might be nervous about that, and then he relaxes.
"I'll look forward to it."
"I think you will. I understand we'll be having supper together, after."
"I understand that, too, and will anticipate it, eagerly." He again, gently, cautiously, takes her hand, and kisses the back of it. "Until then."
Rey nods at him.
Dinner goes well.
K'Oanan does not attend.
Rey's not sure if he's sulking in his room about the outcome of the day, or if the K'Aar decided that he'd embarrassed them enough for one night, and putting him into a situation where he might mix pain killers with alcohol and Rey was asking for a disaster.
However it worked out, he's not sitting at the table with them.
Rey does not mind that in the least.
She doesn't mind dinner, either. Not really. This is… she supposes well-trod territory might be the best way to describe it. Here, now, she's a pretty lady holding court on her own in a social setting.
The K'Arans know how to handle that, and without feeling like the floor under their feet is unsteady, they're being smooth, charming, and filling the night with good stories.
Poe and Jon are good at that, too. Adding their own… charming tales… that's probably the best term for them. Light, entertaining stories with good punchlines that everyone at the table can, on some level, commiserate with.
Rey enjoys the stories. She doesn't feel like she has any of her own. After all, who wants to hear about scavenging junk for a few mouthfuls of water? Or scrubbing grit off of gears in an effort to make something worth a few more calories.
She's probably looking wistful, glancing toward where Kylo is, wanting to be with him, as they're wrapping up dessert. Jon gives her hand a bit of a squeeze. "Tired, Lady Ren?"
She nods a bit. "It's been a long few days. When I'm not doing this, I'm the primary healer for the Maji, and in addition to Kylo, almost everyone is sick."
The K'Aar leaps up. "Come. We will not linger." Apparently, healing and taking care of other members of the clan are appropriate feminine things to do among the K'Aran, and she can feel he's determined to keep her away from that not a second longer than necessary.
"Thank you." She also stands, and gently grasps hands with each of them.
This time, the K'Aar does kiss her hand, and he says, "When that man of yours is feeling up to it, bring him to us. We'll make sure to show you a good time."
"I'm certain we will take you up on that. I know he had been looking forward to meeting you."
Jon's radiating a satisfied pleasure. "Perhaps, when we open the first of our recruiting stations, the Rens may show up to provide the proper fanfare, and celebrate the union of our empire and yours?"
"I think that would be a profitable endeavor for all of us," Ilnor says.
"Excellent," Rey says, glancing at the door again.
"Come," The K'Aar is beginning to pull his people away, when K'Ahauna says to Rey, "Mistress, may I have a moment with you?"
Rey glances to the rest of the party, making sure that saying yes isn't some sort of massive breach of etiquette. Jon gives her a little nod.
"Certainly."
He waits for the rest of them to get to the far end of the throne room, at the elevator door, before going back to his chair, and pulling the small box he'd placed under it out.
She watches as he removes… something. Rey's never seen anything like it. Her Force sense lets her know it's alive, otherwise she'd have assumed it was some sort of… spun glass artwork. It's a soft, almost shimmering coral and gold, translucent, and she has to assume it's some sort of flower, but she's never seen anything like it before.
He's cradling it, gently, like it's more delicate than the spun glass she knows it cannot be, and then turns to her, stepping close, to Rey.
K'Ahauna is holding it out to her. He's not looking her in the face, but she can feel he wants to.
She can feel he's afraid, but… willing to bet on… luck and maybe feeling a bit foolhardy, and a bit reckless because today has gone, so far, better than he could have expected.
She sighs. This is not what she wanted him to use his newfound confidence on.
She prays that he'll have the good sense to not say what he's about to say.
"I'm… sorry my brother was such a jackass." He does look up at her, his own wide green eyes eager, hopeful. Because he doesn't have his brother's attitude, Rey can see that he is attractive, and young, close to her own age. It's the first time that she's thought of the fact that twenty-two, and the twenty-fivish she thinks herself to be, are not that far apart.
She smiles a bit at him before she can stop it.
He's… pleasant. And, maybe somewhere, somewhen, in a different life, she could have taken what she knows he's about to do next, seriously.
But she doesn't live that life and neither does he.
"But he's not wrong about you." He holds eye contact, not ogling her, not allowing his thoughts to stray into "disrespectful" (other than, of course the astoundingly massive breach of etiquette he's about to commit by attempting to poach a married woman out of her husband's home.) territory.
He hands her the flowers, not touching her skin, but his fingers linger near hers. She can feel the heat of them, and the tremble at the idea that maybe, if he's lucky, she would consent to touch him, or… maybe… He knows it won't happen, but he's got to try… Maybe, she'll leave with him.
"It's a Rhindra Orchid. I… asked mother to send me some as soon as I saw you. They're… rare. They only grown on one island on Arenthal. They absorb nutrients from the air, so they can go anywhere, and look to live on nothing, though, it's said, in a home where the hearts are happy they thrive." He swallows, looking her in the eyes, pleading. "They are a gift, given from a man to a woman, to show his intentions are serious, and honorable." His index finger lightly, so lightly, shaking from nerves and sexual excitement, brushes the back of her hand. "My brother would take you to bed for a night, think only of himself, and forget you as soon as he was done boasting of it. I would adore you with my body and mind and make you a queen."
He means it. Rey can feel that all through herself, and he's so… earnest.
She closes her eyes, tilting her head down. She hands him the orchids back, and gently squeezes his hands.
It's out of her mouth before she's even thought of it. "I already am one." She looks up at him. "And I am adored, and beloved, and…" He's looking at her, skeptically. His queen, his vision of her, is plump and soft and pregnant and 'well-tended.' "My needs are being met. You are being very sweet, and I… appreciate… the sentiment, but I am not for you."
He looks so sad. "You could be. Wise and powerful… but there's gentleness there, too. I can feel it. Everything you are or could want to be, I can cherish. You…" He rolls his lips. "It's clear you don't enjoy this. Parties and dithering with strangers. I could see the way your mind wandered, the longing to be elsewhere. You do it, but you don't love it. If… I'd never make you… You could be a homebody if you wanted. You wouldn't have to be a warrior. I wouldn't… make you stand before predators like my brother and fight them off. You and I…"
Rey's shaking her head. "No. I am where I want to be. Doing what I need to do."
K'Ahauna steps back from her. He looks at the flower, and then nods, and then offers them back to her. "You love your man very much."
"Yes, I do."
"Then take it, and let it thrive in your home."
Rey takes the shimmering coral/gold flower, and says, "Thank you."
K'Ahauna nods, and then turns, and leaves.
Rey stands there, watching him walking out, watching the elevator doors close behind him.
Then she sighs, lets her shoulders slump, and stands there, eyes closed, for a moment.
Soft clicking of metal feet on a metal floor. "Mistress Ren?"
"C8?"
"I'm shutting the elevator down, and setting up a no disruptions command that will not lift until you request it."
"Thanks, C8." She tugs at her hair, pulling pins out of it, letting it start to fall around her shoulders. "I think… I'm going to sleep in, and…" Probably not. She's still got to get home and see what's going on on Lirium.
"Just let me know when you want some breakfast, and I'll have it ready."
"Second shift. Uh…" She tries to think what she's going to want. "Just, a cup of coffee, lots of milk. At least half milk. Two chicken eggs, and the chopped up and fried potatoes with bits of ham and onion in them."
"I'll arrange it, Mistress. Do you think Master Ren will want food?"
"I doubt it. Maybe he'll be able to take some tea by mouth." She looks at the flowers in her hand. "What do I do with this?"
"It's customary to find an attractive container for it to live in."
"Oh. Uh…"
"I'll get you one."
"Not black."
"I will get you a not-black vase."
"Thanks." She's tired and just staring around. Then she shakes her hair out, and begins walking toward Kylo's office. "You think he'll mind?" she asks as she looks into the not at all black room.
"I can't imagine he will." C8 follows her into the office. Rey lays her hand on the door to Kylo's room. She sighs a bit, thinking of Jon arguing about going in there. She doesn't actually know how to open the the lock, either. She doesn't need to. "Mistress?"
"C8?"
"I'm certain that when he hears about this, he will be proud of how you've done."
She nods.
"Do you know that my primary programing, my original function, is tactical planning in regards to personnel?"
"No. Uh…"
"I'm designed to be a personal assistant to a battle commander. I have the full rota of everyone on staff at the Order, their strengths and weaknesses, and part of what I'm supposed to do is help to advise Master Ren on who to put where, when, and why."
"Oh."
"From everything I've seen, you made the correct decision about which of the boys to back."
"Not difficult once I got a good feel for him."
"It never is, but getting a good feel, and getting people to show who they truly are, is."
She nods. "Thanks C8."
"You're welcome, have pleasant rest."
"I hope to." And with that Rey ports herself back to the other side of the door.
Kylo's actually awake when she gets in there. His eyebrows rise for a moment, and then lower. "Am I dreaming?"
She sits on the bed next to him. "Not this time." Her hands caress his face, and even without the touch, she can still see the fever flush and his glassy eyes. "Feeling a little better?"
He curls around her. "Now." He nuzzles his cheek against her knee. "Pretty dress." He kisses it. "Prettier woman under it. Something interesting happen?"
"Yeah." She strokes his hair. Normally she'd run her fingers through it, but right now it's vastly too dirty and tangled for that.
"Good interesting?" He's holding onto her, and she feels his shivers start to rise.
"I'll tell you about it when you're feeling better. Right now, I'm going to undress, and then snuggle up with you."
He curls a little tighter in on himself as she gets up. "I'd like that." He's watching her undress, and she can feel how content he is right this second. He's fever blasted, tired, cold, and sore, but she's here, and just that's enough.
She pulls off the over dress.
"You were gone a long time?"
It's clear he's still not tracking time well. "Longer than I wanted to be."
"Everything's all right?"
"Yeah. Everything is all right. All you've got to do is lay around and heal right now, baby." She lifts the sheet and slips under the blankets, curling around him.
A contented purr rumbles through Kylo. "I missed this."
She kisses the back of his neck. "Me, too."