Ben had heard of the realm's most respectable and oldest fairy, Maz Kanata, only once before. Reputable for being a bit kooky and superstitious personality-wise the elder was also a woman capable of curing anyone of just about anything with her mystical remedies.
Remembering Maz was one of those who feared so-called devil birds Ben begrudgingly thought against phasing to raven form when Rey sent him to the elder fairy's oak tree for a new mason of balm for her pain, nestled within a quieter sector of wood behind the falls. And doing so left him with no other option but to travel through the lagoon at the busiest hour of the day.
Every female who was present there froze in mid-motion, hands hovering in place while combing another's hair, mouths hung open in between unspoken words, whispering and giggling to the fairy closest to them, completely enamored by his presence. Since he was the only male amongst a horde of glitz and glamour neither of them made their apparent interest in him the slightest bit subtle. The feeling itself was utterly new to him.
True, he hadn't been the most attractive fairy back in the marshes. Always felt like the ugly duckling in comparison to other males who were his age and older. So being eyed like a waddling slab of freshly carved meat by wild animals frothing at the mouth? That was something he wasn't used to.
As much as it should've flattered him, he found that none of it mattered. Because none of those girls were Rey.
If it hadn't been for the black trousers he needed, Ben would have phased right then. But he was certain Maz wouldn't have appreciated a naked stranger moseying about inside her home. So he instead swallowed the anxiety building at the back of his throat and nodded toward each respectively.
Thank gods the torture hadn't lasted long. And thank gods none of them appeared to have been desperate enough to pursue him, as he rounded the mountainside and vanished from their view. Only then was he able to feel like he wasn't suffocating beneath the intensity of their shameless stares. The blush formerly embellishing his cheeks gradually faded to their prior creaminess.
Whereas everything west of the mountain seemed to be locked in a perpetual state of gloom, Maz's prodigious ancient oak was set aglow by the flickering flame of a lantern outside its entrance, and another at the base of its moss-covered steps. Strays of sunlight penetrating a dense blanket of cloud cover allotted an ethereal spotlight over bushes of boysenberries, lavender, sage, and ferns. Its enormous roots bowed above ground.
Ducking his head so to not hit the edge of the doorframe he heard the soft, resounding voice of a woman humming merrily from inside. Save for a single wall sconce hanging opposite of the doorway, being so dim in lighting made it nearly impossible for him to make out the tiny form of whom he presumed was Maz Kanata, busying herself in a diminutive space with maple-crafted cupboards and shallow basins for growing herbs. The aroma of lemon balm and bergamot lingered fresh in the air.
Hilariously, one of the first things he did notice was the ample amounts of garlic cloves strewn about in clusters near the low hanging archway of the entrance. Frankly, there was now little to no room for doubt in his mind that the little woman's superstitious beliefs hadn't been a joke.
Tentatively Ben cleared his throat, announcing his presence. "Hello?"
"Oh!" Maz cried out, her flinching silhouette noticeable even when standing in the dark. Clearly, his initial alert hadn't been enough. "Goodness gracious, you scared me! I wasn't aware that anyone would be stopping by today."
"Sorry," he grimaced. "I can come back later if yo-."
"Nonsense, don't be silly!" She huffed, waving a hand for emphasis as she shuffled closer toward him. "You're here, now. What can I do for you?"
As she came to stand before him Ben was at a loss for words when he saw the fairy was, in fact, the closest living relative of mythical pixies. A race believed to have been extinct long before his time and of his parents'.
Unlike him and other fairies in the realm, Maz was no taller than his waistline at full height, petitely framed with weathered gossamer wings in back. If it weren't for the wrinkles indicating her true age she might've been considered childlike in appearance. Her soft caramel eyes gazed up at him expectantly through the brim of a periwinkle-shaded bonnet, her chin-length auburn hair tightly permed underneath. A matching dress modestly hugged her bodice, fanning outward in layers shaped as poplar leaves that came just slightly below her knees.
"I, uh-," he blinked, not meaning to insult her he realized he'd been staring for too long. "I just need a jar of your healing ointment."
"Oh! Sure sure, of course," Maz assured as she immediately turned on a bare heel. Then she looked over her shoulder and beckoned him to follow. "You're welcome to come inside, my dear. Just watch your head. I'd hate to see that handsome face of yours hurt."
"Thanks." Ben's face began to flush again but he did as she had asked, certain that his wings were tucked securely along his back before he took a step further inside, minding Maz's words of caution.
There were various pots and pans as well as jars in sizes big and small scattered a muck. Some sat on the ledges of two very small window sills carved into the side of the tree, allowing the faintest bit of light to seep into the small room. Gourds and an array of dried herbs hung from above.
"What should I call you?" She called from her stance at a considerably tall cupboard, her delicate wings fluttering rapidly as she drove herself upward to reach a bluish mason jar on the top shelf.
"Just Ben is fine."
"Ben," She parroted with furrowed brows, gathering a select few of bundled herbs in her arms. "And what brings you here from the marshlands, Ben?"
The remark took him by surprise, as he hadn't recalled mentioning where he was from to her. "How did you know?"
"Let's just say that I'm particularly gifted at pegging the origins of certain fairies," she mused, settling the ingredients on the top of a narrow table, reaching for a nearby wooden mortar with a stone pestle for grinding. "When you've lived as long as I have you tend to pick up on the auras of others. And their spirit animal," she winked. "You look like a raven boy to me."
Surprised yet again by Maz's acute depth of perception, he almost considered asking her why she hadn't booted him from her home the moment she realized who he was. But he thought better of it and decided it was best not to press his luck.
"I was injured," he explained in a low, gruff voice, palming the raw flesh with a hand where the arrow had pierced his shoulder. "One of your own was kind enough to have helped me and welcomed me into her home."
"Oh?" Her brows perked as she finished sprinkling a fair amount of herbs into the mortar dish, and began using the pestle to grind it all into finer fragments. "And who might have that been? If it's alright for me to ask."
His lips parted for a beat before he spoke next. "Rey."
She smiled. "Of course, that doesn't surprise me. She's always been the nurturing type, especially with animals. But it's always worried me that someone could easily take advantage of her kindness one day. How is she by the way? I know she's always been the loner type but I haven't seen her here in a while."
Wincing, Ben dug his palm deeper into the scar as if it were capable of relieving the surmount of heaviness rising in his chest, his expression crestfallen. "She um - she's not well," he murmured solemnly. "Her wings, they were taken from her."
Having drizzled oil over the crushed herbs in the mortar seconds before his affirmation Maz returned the bottle to its place on the table harder than necessary, her glare at him severe. "Taken from her?" She uttered slowly. "As in having had them physically removed?"
Ben swallowed and nodded.
Maz was speechless. "How did this happen?"
"I wish I could say but I honestly have no idea. She hasn't spoken much of it all week. She - she's not the same Rey now, Maz." Flexing his jaw Ben clenched the fist on his chest. "But I do have my suspicions as for whom is responsible."
At that Maz lowered her gaze to the green, pasty substance forming in the mortar, lips pinched. "If I remember correctly, you marshland fairies are known for your excellence at healing." His nod confirmed her assumption. "So her external wounds are already healed. I'm afraid that the remedy she seeks from me, isn't what she truly needs to ease her discomfort."
Ben scoffed. "I don't understand."
Maz took a breath. "What I'm saying is that emotional wounds run deeper than anything exposed to us on the outside. She needs time. And love. And someone who can give her both will be substantially more powerful to her healing than any form of magic or herbal medicine."
Ben frowned as his mind absorbed what she had said like a dehydrated sponge though one term, in particular, was segregated from the rest. Love. He'd never been in love before. Neither could he be positively sure that he was in love with Rey. But she'd always made him feel differently in ways that could never be explained with words.
All he knew was that he'd do anything for her. Be anything for her, even.
Was that love?
He pondered over that as Maz finished the herbal concoction, pouring the greenish paste into the small mason jar and handed it to him. When he grabbed it gingerly with his hands she placed one tiny hand over one of his, gaining his undivided attention.
"Tell Rey I miss her. But this - what I am about to tell you stays between us." His nod in assurance encouraged her to proceed. "Just because something was stolen, doesn't mean that it's gone forever. Nothing is ever really gone if you only but look in the right places. Including the wings of a fairy."
Ben's venture back to the willow was spent reflecting over what Maz had told him. This time, he chose to fly instead of walking, wanting to avoid the lagoon entirely.
He thought over what she'd said about Rey's physical discomfort. How it was her mind refusing to let go of her agony, and he supposed that it made sense. Experiencing such trauma would have that immeasurable effect on someone. It explained her recurring night terrors as well. Ben would always wrap his arms around her tighter in an effort to calm her, his wings forming a cocoon for the pair inside their hammock.
It helped, and she always drifted back into a heavy slumber.
Now, the mere thought of it only amplified his hatred towards that certain ginger; even though Rey hadn't confirmed whether or not Hux was solely responsible for her assault or someone else. For her sake he never mentioned it. However, Hux's absence from her home since then made his guilt apparent.
He also thought over Maz's final words to him, wondering if there was any tangible proof behind them. How it was possible Rey could get her wings back. If that were indeed the case, then how? And where could he begin to search?
He wanted to tell Rey it was possible for her to claim her wings again but realized it was best that Maz insisted on keeping the information between the two of them a secret, the potential of it bringing more harm than good if it ever turned out to be false.
He couldn't fathom losing her more than he had, as she was already dangerously teetering the edge of falling into total darkness. And frankly, he hadn't been the only one who'd noticed her dramatic change of character the past week.
Landing at the entrance to the old weeping tree he saw a few critters lurking around its nearby shrubs: a couple of forest hares with the company of a seemingly anxious possum. A few wide-eyed, reddish fox squirrels measured the scene from branches higher above, all of them waiting in utter silence as he slipped inside, his wings tucked away neatly behind him.
At the center of the bountiful collection of gizmos was Rey, kneeling, feet crossed underneath her slouching frame, holding that silly fork in her hand, the spoon lying on a ribbon of smokey fabric from her dress at her side on the ground. Seeing the trinkets within her grasp, Ben suddenly remembered he'd never told her what they were called.
"It's a fork," he murmured, her quizzical look prompting him to enlighten more on what the strange object was in her hand. "Humans use them for eating meat and other things. We had something similar in the marshland. But ours were made of wood instead of pewter."
She nodded wordlessly, her eyes lowering to the other piece of flatware.
"And this?" Her brows quirked.
"A spoon. It's for soups, liquids, foods that would typically slip through fork prongs."
He'd thought if she knew their names she'd finally smile but the frown remained in place. Like it was permanently drawn on her face among her many other scars. Puffing exasperatedly he cut across the room in a few short strides to the shelf full of lotion jars and pastes, placing the newly acquired one from Maz in an empty spot.
"Maz said to tell you she misses you," he admitted at a quieter octave.
"She knows where I live," she snarked rather dryly. "If she were at all concerned about me she could have come around."
Ben was taken aback by her astringency toward the elder fairy. "Rey, I don't think that's how it is with her," he explained cautiously.
Snorting she flung the utensil in her grasp to the gadget mound in front of her, landing with a harsh clatter of pewter hitting metal. "My wings were stolen from me, Ben. Not my competence," she quipped, her tone oozing with malice. She rose to her feet and turned to him. "I'm not stupid. I've never fit in here, to begin with. That's what happens when you're not accustomed to the typical norm like the rest of the mindless bots here. You become invisible to everyone else around you."
She left before Ben was able to counter then, but he hastily followed. Leaves rustled in the background as critters scurried to the safety of their homes in the brush.
"That may be the case for them," he called after her, leaving a small gap in between them when she came to an abrupt stop at the river bank. "But not to me. I see you, as clearly as I can see the rest."
Rey stood quietly with her back directed toward him, hugging her torso. "It must be such a disappointing sight for you to see," she mumbled in a voice that was almost too quiet for him to hear.
Gods, how it pained him to hear her say that. If she only knew how crazy he was about her maybe she'd understand.
"No," he swallowed thickly, "that's where you're wrong. You're still as beautiful as ever."
"Maybe you should take a closer look with your raven eyes then."
Ben took a step closer, a sliver of space is all that divided them. "I have. And it pales in comparison to how I see you now."
With a sharp huff, she spun on a heel to challenge him, craning her neck so to accommodate him towering above her. "That's the cruelest thing you could ever say to me," she snarled, her tone lacking venom.
He flinched at her rebuke. "How?"
"How?" She scoffed. "Look at me, Ben! I have nothing to offer you. You deserve someone who's beautiful. Someone who isn't deformed. Someone who -." Closing her eyes, her head shook solemnly. "Someone who isn't broken."
Ben considered her. "You didn't ask for this to happen, either," he uttered soothingly. Cradling her face in his palms she stared at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "We're all a little broken, Rey. Some of us more than others." As he spoke his thumbs lovingly caressed her cheeks, his eyes radiating sheer devotion. "Sometimes we just need that someone who's willing enough to stay and help pick up the pieces."
Rey shook her head, sniffing. Although he could see that her interior walls were beginning to crumble. "I'll only be a burden to you if you stay."
His eyes fell to her trembling lower lip. Stilling his movement with a hand in place on her cheek, the other tentatively skimmed the bottom swell of her lip. "Then that's something I'm prepared to accept." As he continued to speak their lips inched closer and closer. When he spoke again they nearly brushed. "Because no matter what, I choose you."
Everything seemed to have blurred together in the moments that followed. One minute he was delivering words of comfort and in the next, his lips were pressing tenderly to hers. The kiss itself was fleeting but it was all they needed to express what the other was thinking, without explicitly stating those three significant words aloud.
"We'll make it through this," he whispered assuringly as they parted. "Together. Okay?"
Worrying her bottom lip, she nodded. "Promise?"
His mouth twitching at the corner was his only reply. He thought he saw her smile then, too.