The towering fortress had been there as long as Rey could remember. According to rumor, it was the remnants of a ship that crashed into what had been a lovely oasis. Trees took root in the wreckage, healing broken halls with gnarled wood and vine, and water flowed across gleaming black to create a dark mirrored pool in the shadows.
Flowers bloomed aplenty there, a tempting treasure for a desert rat, but all knew to keep away. It was dangerous.
There, whispered the other scavengers who scoured wreckage, was a Beast the likes of which none had ever seen.
This Beast was powerful and had command over his domain in ways that made the skin creep. Trees would bend at his whim, and walls would rise and fall with a gesture.
She had only gone near that place once, to see if it was real. It sounded like something out of the vague stories faceless parents read to her in impressions of memories from before.
She'd traversed the hollow drum expanse where worms tunneled and hunted, scaled sheer cliffs, shielded herself against the onslaught of sandstorms, and finally, finally, glimpsed the jagged black fingers rising into the hazy yellow sky.
Never had she seen so much green in her life. Not even the sky before the desert storms could reveal that shade. Words like emerald and jade and moss spurred her closer, until she detected flowers like gems peeking through the foliage.
And then there was a rumbling, a cry of fury, and sparks flew as a line of red cut through a shadowed alcove. The Beast revealed itself in crimson lines edged in silver, high off the ground and darker than the black where it hid, and Rey turned tail and fled.
Dreams of those distant blooms haunted her.
A flower in the desert was a precious thing. It took an excess of water, and thus spoke of status above the common folk. A noble might grow one, but it took work, servants, hours, and— most importantly— a seed from which to start. Or, as she later found out, clippings that could sprout into a twin of their parent plant.
For some flowers, it was simple enough to traverse the galaxy, while others were finicky and required a special touch.
A certain type of rose, Rey heard, was the most difficult of all. It could only grow from a freshly cut stem.
"It's all about the color," she overhead that damned day that changed the course of her fate. "This deep scarlet is quite specific. Only one variety has ever produced it. I was hoping my cuttings were fresh enough that they would take." This wealthy water merchant had been born on Tatooine, where the vibrant desert rose grew in the rare oases.
The merchant had a picture depicting this flower from her childhood. It was deep crimson, the edges so dark they were nearly black velvet. Their leaves were jewel green against their darkness, and the contrast niggled at her mind.
"I've seen that flower before," she said before she could help herself.
The woman spun in a whirl of pale, elegant garments, and lifted one manicured brow upon catching sight of the scavenger. "I sincerely doubt that," she scoffed.
Rey pursed her lips. "No, really. Beyond the Drum Sands," she insisted.
"In the Beast's lands?" Plutt's beady eyes narrowed at her outburst. "Don't listen to the little rat," he told the merchant. "She presents an impossible solution. Probably just gonna find a way to scam you."
Rey rose to her full height and thrust her staff against the ground. "I've seen it myself. For the right price, I'll get it for you."
"What price is that?" The merchant's eyes gleamed in avarice.
"That's a good question. I don't think I could accept less than…" she did quick calculations in her head, factoring the travel time, danger, and rarity of the item, "twelve hundred portions."
If the amount surprised the merchant, she didn't show it. Instead, she responded, "Four hundred credits and six hundred portions."
"Five and five," Rey countered. Credits were worth far more than portions, since they were variable in their use, but portions were food, and thus, safer. "Half upfront."
"Half the portions upfront, the rest of the payment delivered upon your successful retrieval."
"Deal." Rey shifted her staff and stuck out her hand. The merchant glanced down, lifted a brow, but shook her hand all the same.
"And what is your name, young scavenger?" she asked as their hands parted.
"Rey. And you, miss?"
"Ingrid Starwind," the merchant said. "Just Rey?"
She nodded. "Just Rey."
Ingrid's lips curved in a cool smile. "Well, 'Just Rey,' when can I expect delivery of my flower?"
"I can be there and back in a fortnight," Rey said. "And that includes two days to ready myself for the journey. I'll begin preparation as soon as I have my starting fee."
"Mr. Plutt," said the merchant. "The portions, if you please."
Unkar Plutt grumbled as he measured out the stack. As Rey eyed the ever-growing pile, his gleam turned keen. "One quarter portion for a bag to carry all this."
Rey nodded agreeably. There was no way she could carry it on her sandspeeder without a bag. And a quarter portion was nothing to this feast.
She set out for her little makeshift home immediately and began sorting what she would need for the journey. Despite saying she would take two days to prepare, she intended to go sooner. The extra time would be spent seeing what else she might procure in the gardens of the Beast. A part of her longed to enter the jagged wreckage as well but knew that was a step too far even for her.
Water was the most important element for the journey, even more than food. In a desert, it was life itself, more precious than air. Once she had enough for the journey, she was set. The extra portions were secreted away, her equipment was packed, and she had a plan mapped in her head.
Three days through the rolling dunes, avoiding sandstorms and roving bands who were more trouble fighting off than the time spent going around them. The drum sands required her to hide her sandspeeder in the shadow of a momentous scrap of ship that had rusted down to skeleton frame over the years. It was lucky for her that her machine practically blended into the structure. No one would think it worth the trouble to scavenge.
Drum sands required deft movement. Honed by lack of food and the harsh environment, it was easy enough for Rey to test her way across. Someone like Plutt would be wormbait for sure, but she was light on her feet, and used her staff to check the path.
If it weren't for the necessity of her heavy pack, she could have practically run across the expanse.
Scaling the cliffs that marked the last great barrier until the Beast's domain was mostly a matter of timing. At the right angle, the sun was a friend rather than a foe. It lent shadowy places for handholds, where all she needed to do was avoid the creatures that inhabited them.
A desert creature herself, it was simple enough work.
And on the opposite side, she removed her sand shield from her back and rode it down the sloping landscape.
It was a joyous rush, the wind whipping at the bits of flesh revealed around goggles and scarf. She laughed freely into the barren lands, the sound ringing out against the scraping hiss of metal on sand.
And when she finally came to a stop, her legs were unsteady, and she let herself drop to the ground for one blissful moment.
The sandstorms were the easiest and hardest both to deal with. While she could travel during them, it was tiring work as she was constantly buffeted by wind and sand. Even covered as she was, those sharp grains cut. And it was tiring, slow progress. She had to prop up her sand shield and makeshift tent to rest more often than she'd like. Then, she'd tend her little wounds, plucking sand out and applying the tiniest bit of bacta she could afford to prevent infection. She could get sick once she was back, and not a moment sooner.
During those storms, she would let her mind wander.
And sometimes, she would dream.
Usually, those dreams revolved around her lost family, glimpses of eyes like hers, reddish hair, warm embraces, lips across her forehead…
In the storms, she saw the Beast.
His black claws would reach out to stroke her heart in her chest. Her name would whisper through the lush shadows of his gardens. And always, she would pluck the rose to have one wicked thorn prick her finger.
Her blood was brighter than the petals at first. It would rush down her palm and to her elbow, spilling in a crimson waterfall onto the sands, and there it dried to the same depth of hue as the edges of those silken petals. The desert around her would ripple with the color until it, too, was that deep, lovely, poisonous bloody black.
The sand that had been a pool of her blood grew gleaming emerald vines around her feet. They climbed her legs, entwined her arms, until she was consumed, and as she tried to scream, leaves like cut gems unfurled from between her lips, and her voice came out as a scarlet red rose.
She woke up choking on a cry, her hands flying to her throat as though to soothe scratches from thorny vines. It was the worst dream yet.
She told herself it wasn't an ill omen, just an overactive imagination.
Rey forced herself to sip more water in hopes it might ease her delusions, ate a portion of a portion, and packed up to pass that final stretch.
It started as a spot of black over rolling dunes, eventually becoming a finger pointing to the sky. The finger turned to jagged towers, and the shadow of that strange place.
Last of all was that brilliant verdance at its base.
She'd forgotten how lush it was. Not even in her dreams had the viridian shone so rich. Tears wet eyes used to economy. She couldn't help but stare in awe at a world so alien dropped in the middle of the harsh place where she lived.
A sniffle pulled her from her reverie. She took a grounding breath and set herself straight for the greenery.
Shoots of grass and long tree roots flourished closest to the edges of the garden. They were almost close enough to touch before she glimpsed the red where it bloomed.
It lived in a patch of light near the black pool, the darkness of their petals mirroring the depths of the water.
She stared at those roses, hypnotized by the multilayered petals that were beautiful as nothing she'd seen before. Rey stalked through the shadows of trees, removing her gloves so she could enjoy the texture of bark beneath her palms. Vines were slick where leaves didn't blanket them and leaves themselves came in all different textures and colors, veined like her flesh and just as delicate.
Were it not for the blooming roses, she would have been entranced by the variables among the greenery.
Alas, the roses beckoned with the siren spell of their beauty.
She approached as though to a prey creature, all cautious movements and feathery breaths. Her footsteps were light against the unfamiliar landscape, but she was used to fickle sands, so it was not a difficult adjustment. She ducked beneath heavy branches, and avoided looping vines, until the only movement was herself and her reflection in the water as she passed.
One bare hand stretched before her as she neared the roses. Fingers shaking with nerves brushed the silken red, and she gasped at petals that were so soft she had no words to describe them.
A trembling laugh left her as she cupped the blossom. Behind her goggles, her eyes began to tear. She had to lift them to wipe away the tears. The next laugh was more, tinkling like clean machinery being installed.
Rey darted to the next rose and inspected it, and the next, searching through the petals to see which might be perfect for her task.
And she hadn't even started on making the container ready.
It would require dirt from this strange place. These roses were picky things, so she would use that which had successfully grown them, and only that, to bring her rose across the desert. She backed a step and swung down her bag to shuffle through the contents until she came upon the box she'd deemed suited for this purpose.
The dairy was dark and rich and light on her hands as she scooped it into the box, and then she was back to the roses.
Pretty, lovely, perfect. How could she choose one?
The greedy scavenger inside wanted to pluck several, but her heart couldn't bear to take them from the home that grew them so lovingly. So, she settled on one that had yet to reach its fullest, drew the blade at her hip, and snicked through the wine wood that would make a stem.
That's when a cry of fury pierced the idyllic scene.
It was a rumbling anger akin to what she'd heard that day years ago, when she'd barely been a teen to cross the sands and live. Rey froze in the velvet shadows, ears straining through the rushing thud that was her own pulse. It sounded close, too close.
Rey scooped up her bag, the box, her staff, and with the rose clutched in one squeezing palm, she spun about and fled.
She'd never run so swiftly in her life, nor so haphazardly. Branches flicked against her cheeks until her goggles fell behind her with a thud. Her scarf caught on bark as she spun a harsh right. Items in her open bag clinked and threatened to spill, and her staff slipped from its hold between arm and side until she held the box in one hand, her bag on one shoulder, and the rose in the other hand.
Shadows played around her, wind danced through the leaves to create movement everywhere, so she felt surrounded by the Beast as it roared and gave chase.
Ahead, the greenery parted to reveal the dull sands she called home, and her heart lurched as she pushed forward. She would make it, she would! Just a few more trees to go.
From the corner of her eye, a green tendril unfurled from a branch to wrap around her waist and tug her back.
Rey jolted against the harsh grasp of the plant, kicking off the earth to propel herself forward, but it was tight around her middle, and wrapped over her arms, pressing them to her sides as she struggled helplessly.
The young woman screamed in frustration, lowered her head and bit at the bitter plant, but it didn't recoil. It didn't seem to feel the attack at all.
She flailed and rioted and ignored the blood that dripped down her cheek and from her hand, until the crinkle of footsteps through the verdant land drained the fight from her, and she listened instead.
"So, you're the little thief who dared steal from me."
The voice was low, terrifying in its hushed command. She could hardly breathe as its owner loomed over her, deepening the shadow of the forest pocket.
"I— I wasn't trying to steal," she retorted, mind whirring to defend herself. "I'll pay for it. I can pay!"
A huffing laugh echoed from behind her. "And with what can you pay, little thief?"
"I have portions. And— and credits. I have more waiting for me at the trading outpost. I'll give you a hundred credits— two hundred."
"I have no need for credits, nor your disgusting portions." The deep voice raised the small hairs on her nape. "No, little thief, you cannot offer me anything of value."
Her hands squeezed tighter, knuckles paling. "I could work for it," she offered. "I'm good with machinery, and I'm a hard worker, I swear."
A gentle breeze stirred the overgrown garden and the rose's sweetly perfumes petals. The Beast's presence neared, and she felt his hand— claw— whatever it was— hovering near her back. "Machinery? What about engines? How are you with ships?"
"I'm good," she sputtered. "Excellent, really. Never met a machine I couldn't fix, I swear."
The Beast hummed. "I am not easy on thieves. I'm tempted to keep you imprisoned here indefinitely."
"I have a family. They'll be waiting for me."
"Who?" air ghosted over the skin beneath her third bun.
"My parents," she whispered. "They'll come for me."
The Beast stilled again and drew back in contemplation. "We can't have that. Tell me, little thief, if I let you go now and make arrangements to serve your time here as punishment, what assurance do I have that you'll return?"
Rey chewed on her lip and contemplated the items in her pack. She licked dry lips with a dry tongue, and scraped out, "In my pack there's a doll. It's not much, but— but it's the only thing I have that I don't need to survive."
Her only comfort, though that remained unspoken.
The beast huffed, then she felt the bag on her back shift as he sifted through the contents to find the little thing.
It was decrepit at this point, having served nine long years as her only companion. She could see it in her mind's eye, fresh in her memory as the day she finished it. Orange flight suit scavenged from wreckage, like everything else in her life, made up the clothing that covered the little thing. A rebellion pilot, the most noble identity she could summon for the sparse little thing.
The Beast considered the doll for moments where Rey's heart hammered through her head. "Fine. You have ten days to return before I hunt you down, little thief. If you don't return in that time, it will be your life."
"Yes, of course. I'll be here," she replied.
Her goggles and staff were cast to the ground in front of her, and the vine loosened until her feet were once more holding her weight. "Go on, little thief. I will see you soon." And his presence retreated from her.
Rey spent moments staring at the desert's edge before she gathered enough courage to get herself together. She took the time to tend to her rose, which looked no worse for her treatment of it, carefully placing it in her box. Then she arranged her things, threw on her goggles, and set out for Niima Outpost.
The journey back to her home was less exciting, less hopeful, but thankfully just as uneventful, as the journey to the garden. Her sandspeeder was as she left it, and the wreckage where she slept was a little dusty, but otherwise familiar as her hand.
She wrote a letter while she rested there for a few hours. Her parents needed to know where she was.
Rey ran her fingers across the hash marks that numbered her days without them and left it for a final time.
"You're early." Plutt grunted at her. "Your gracious benefactor won't be back for three days at earliest."
Rey set the box with the precious rose on the counter alongside her letter. "I need a favor."
The large Crolute scoffed. "I don't do favors."
"I'll pay you." He paused at that. "See the rose delivered and hold my payment until such time as I return. That, and give this to my parents should they come for me." She slid the flower and the note toward him. "You can take off a fifth of the portions I've yet to collect as payment."
His beady eyes narrowed. "A quarter."
"A quarter, then," she agreed. It wouldn't really matter if she never left the Beast's domain.
"Why?"
Rey swallowed around her thready pulse. "I have to go back." She'd thought through it on the way home. The Beast terrified everyone. The rovers who passed close to his domain would trade with him but knew after their second loss that to trifle with the Beast was death.
But he paid handsomely, and he kept to his word, from those tidbits she'd heard— the good and the bad.
"On your head be it," he said, grabbing both items. "I won't pay the remainder until you come to fetch it yourself."
She nodded, having expected that. "Thank you," Rey added before she took to the sands again. She had a tight timeline to return to the Beast.
An entire day was spent in preparation. She had to secret away anything with the slightest value and figure out how to preserve her sandspeeder while ensuring it didn't make a tempting prize. Hiding it before setting out meant the trip took longer, too.
It was a full nine days thanks to a particularly mighty storm that Rey entered the lush domain once more.
This time, she didn't dote on slick jade leaves, though she eyed all the vines in case one should grab her again. She went to the roses, because she did not know where to enter his— castle, she supposed it seemed, since the wreckage looked uniquely suited to life. Rey did know he paid attention to the roses.
She crouched beside the mirrored lake and drew off her scarf, gloves, and goggles to pack them in her bag. She thought she would need them sparingly while she served here.
Her face, lined with dust and sun streaks from Jakku's elements, was unfamiliar with how little she saw it. She saw humans less often than other species, so took the time to peruse the small nose and overly large eyes of her people.
"Admiring yourself, thief?"
The dry hush swept her from her contemplation; Rey stood and turned in one fluid move, staring at the shadowed Beast she hadn't seen last time.
There was no red about him now, just black with touches of silver. He loomed tall, though Rey was used to being smaller than other beings despite her fair height.
His lined visage was a helmet, not some strange face. The crimson must have reflected on the silver of its front. He was swathed in black from head to toe, so she had no idea what color or texture his skin might be. It could be blue or red as easily as a neutral tone.
He had five fingers, she noted, gaze flicking to leathery gloves that tightened at her attention.
Rey nodded once as she realized he might be waiting on her for a reply. When he didn't move, she added, "You gave me ten days, and I made it in nine."
"Come." His inky robes fluttered with the movement. She wondered how he could wear them in the heat of the desert; though the oasis provided a plethora of shade, it was still hot. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Perhaps he was of a species that enjoyed the heat.
He led her beyond the roses, into an alcove created by vines and roots and other greenery, and it was almost like a veil parted to reveal the opening into the ship proper.
Everything was slightly tipped here, but mostly aright, like the spires that formed jagged towers were meant to point up. The floors were a little dusty, but she saw old footprints in his large size back and forth, like he came this way often.
Long legs strode confidently through the halls, and she scurried to catch up, trying not to stare in awe at her surroundings. It was all black and silver metal, grand and sharp and beautiful. She longed to explore and scavenge, wondering what treasures she might find here.
It was a short journey to a set of black metal steps. "The common areas are down there, to include the galley and mess. That is important, as you'll be in charge of making my meals."
She frowned. She'd never cooked before. How was she to do all that? Before she could voice her issue, his black boots began their trek again. He turned once to the left, then paused in front of a sleek door that responded to a sequence of numbers put on a pad. "There are your quarters. There is a small head for your use. I can lock the door from anywhere on the ship, so I will control when you are allowed to roam. If I tell you that you are to stay in your room, then you will go there immediately. Do you understand?"
"What if—"
"Do you understand?" he repeated in a louder, cutting tone.
Rey pursed her lips, then said, "Yes."
He gestured with one hand, and Rey passed into the small room that was the first she could ever remember having.
It was only a few paces long in any direction and had a bed like the place for it was scooped out of the wall, hardly big enough for the most fully grown humanoids she'd met. Drawers dotted beneath the bed, and there was a slightly slimmer door catty corner to the entrance wall that must contain the 'fresher.
Rey removed her pack to set it on the floor, but the Beast took it up and spilled its contents across the bed.
"Hey—"
He held up a hand and her voice fled.
The Beast picked through her belongings silently, twirling her tools to inspect them before setting them aside. Her knife was dropped almost as quickly as he picked it up; apparently it wasn't a threat. Her clothing was strewn out carelessly.
When he straightened out, she dared clear her throat to get his attention.
"Erm, what do I call you?"
She wondered if she would ever get used to his still, quiet presence as he stood in front of her before answering. "I am Kylo Ren, leader of the Knights of Ren. You may refer to me as 'my lord.'"
"Alright," she murmured, "my lord." The title was awkward on her tongue. "I'm Rey."
A sound like a scoff emanated from him. "I didn't ask."
She ground her teeth but didn't respond to the frankly rude reply.
"You will be expected to begin your duties tomorrow morning. Your door will unlock when it's time."
He turned on his heel and was out the door before his order fully sank in. "Wait!" she cried out as the barrier shut. "I don't know how to cook."
Rey smothered a frustrated laugh, then sank beside the bed to begin putting away her things.
Morning saw her cleaner than she'd been in years, in clothes less dusty, and without goggles or gloves or scarf. She marched down to the galley, insisting to herself that she would figure this out.
She soon found herself in over her head. Rey fiddled with gadgets she'd never seen before, let alone worked, and explored to find ingredients whose scents and tastes were as familiar as the greenery of the garden— that was, not at all.
For the better part of an hour, she struggled to figure out something to make, finally settling on eggs. Large, foreign eggs were in the cooling box. Rey figured two might be enough, and then peeked through cupboards until finding flat cookware to crack them on.
It was none too soon. When Kylo Ren appeared in the archway between galley and mess, she had the whites nearly firm.
"Is that it?" he asked from beneath the helmet, his voice modulated oddly as usual.
Rey shrugged, blushing deeply at her ignorance. "I don't really know how to cook," she admitted.
The Beast— large humanoid— grabbed the spatula from the counter and scooped up the eggs onto a plate. "I'll have a datapad loaded with information and sent to your quarters." He stalked out of the kitchen, paused, and turned toward her. "You will do better tomorrow."
"Yes, sir— er, my lord," she hastily corrected herself.
The datapad arrived around supper time, which he told her she was exempt from making "given the pathetic offering that was breakfast." She was relieved, as it gave her more opportunity to study the information she'd been supplied.
There were endless combinations of meals when one took into account spices, cooking styles, time of day, ingredients… her head fairly swam. She needed a way to narrow down her focus, or she'd suffocate in a storm of options.
She decided to pick out a few meals to start. They were all simple, two or three for each time of day.
If his lordship complained about the lack of variety, she'd explain her reasoning and ask that he give her time to learn.
He did not complain.
Her days passed mostly consumed with studying her new duty. She practiced chopping vegetables and adjusting heat, using trimmings from the garden as her experimental ingredients, though she didn't know if any of it was edible. It worked well enough for her purposes.
Meanwhile, she ate her portions one quarter at a time.
The bites of Kylo's food, which were necessary for her to understand if she was performing properly, were bursts of pleasure in her mouth the likes of which dreams were made. They were as awe-inspiring as the roses in their way, and she longed to eat some of them for herself.
As the fortnight passed, she was confident enough to add another of each type of meal to her list.
She saw the lord of the domain sparingly, though she began to recognize the soft step of his boots across the floor and anticipate when he would arrive to gather his meals. Rey never saw him eat, nor did he comment on the food, but that was better than derision of her attempts.
"The ship is dusty. You will clean starting tomorrow," he told her while she was cleaning the dishware one evening.
"Yes, my lord," was her smooth reply. And they left it at that.
She began with the parts of the ship she knew best. The kitchen and her bedroom were both already regularly cleaned, so she wiped down the mess and swept the stairwell and the hall where she and Kylo Ren had entered. It was sweaty work, but Rey was used to scavenging wreckage, which required muscle, agility, and endurance far beyond mere cleaning.
"My lord," she said after the first few days of cleaning those familiar regions. He paused in mid motion, his glove not quite touching his plate. "I had a few questions."
"Go on."
Rey fiddled with cloth at her waist. "I was wondering where exactly I should clean. I am not sure if I'm allowed everywhere, and—"
"You will not be able to enter if it's off limits," he interrupted, but did not sound at all upset.
"Oh. Okay. Well, I also wondered if maybe I could walk outside and get some fresh air."
The front of his helmet faced her as he contemplated. "Do not enter the desert. Otherwise, you are free to roam."
"Thank you." Her face lit with her smile. It was a weight off her to know she could explore, even if the area was limited. Fresh air, the greenery of the garden, the little pool, all of those would delight her immeasurably.
And, she thought, she no longer had to tiptoe around the fortress in fear of stepping out of bounds.
She spent days mapping out the ship-turned-castle, memorizing its twists and turns, labeling in her head each part. The bridge was one of those locked places, as was the ship bay. As disappointing as the latter especially was, there was still plenty for her to see. Medbay revealed many new gadgets and machines she touched sparingly, since she'd have to rely on them if she was injured, too. And the garden had a fruit tree. The shape and basic taste fell under the category "pears." She liked them.
Rey spent hours in her favorite spots, up on a branch over the black pool, or leaning against the pear tree, or laying on the little clearing near the roses. She felt like she wasn't on Jakku at all and imagined that she might have been born on a planet as lovely as that little oasis.
The only drawback was the presence of her surly lord.
He never wanted to talk, not even the scant gossip of the traders at the outpost. Even Plutt exchanged more smalltalk than Kylo Ren.
She thought he must not care for others at all, since he said maybe a handful of words on the days, he spoke at all. That was, until he happened upon her in the mess one afternoon.
"What are you eating?" The hushed voice was lilted in something like disgust.
Rey sat up straight, glanced at her meal, then at Kylo. "Food, my lord?"
"Is that some sort of ration?"
"Yes, standard portions," she replied.
A beat passed wherein they were both still, then he said, "Why do you not make yourself food when you cook for me?"
She blinked warm brown eyes, brows twitching toward one another. "I didn't think I was allowed."
"Of course, you're allowed," he scoffed. "Don't let me see you eating that garbage again."
He was gone in the time it took her to say, "Yes, my lord."
Thus, Rey began making one and a half times the amount of food per meal. She didn't need nearly as much as the barrel-chested knight, though she ate more richly than she had ever in her memory.
Her next interesting exchange with Kylo Ren was as she fixed a gadget in the kitchen. It had malfunctioned, so she took it apart with her scant, scavenged tools, and went over the parts in great detail, a notebook open to copy down what she saw and sketch ideas of what might go where or do what.
"If you wanted to play with machinery, you could have gone to engineering."
She jolted from thoughts of wires and electrical grids, blushing as she turned to face the dark figure. "The lowest setting was running hotter, so I decided to take a look and see what the cause might be."
Gloved fingers trailed across battered tools. "And this is what you're using? You said you were good with machinery."
"I am, my lord," she answered.
"You can use whatever you like in the engineering bay as long as you ask before taking apart whatever still works," he told her after a moment.
She gaped at the generous offer. "I— thank you!"
"You can thank me by fixing some of the service droids." He strode away in the usual swirl of black robes, and the pattern of heavy, but quiet boots across the floor.
His little kindnesses stacked up over the months; she found more information on her datapad, and areas opening she'd not been allowed before until she had run of most of the ship. With the working droids, cleaning the additional spaces didn't add to her workload.
One evening she returned to her tiny room to find freshly laundered clothes folded on the bed. Soft trousers and blouse in deep cream, altered to fit her slight form. It might be a uniform of some kind, but not one that was familiar.
Another evening found a dress in that same place, long and navy. When she wore it, she found the collar rose to her jaw, a deep vee running to her breast bone. The sleek cloth flowed over her figure to mid-thigh, where it flared to the floor, and long sleeves covered most of her hands.
"It suits you."
She spun around to face the familiar mark of Kylo Ren. Why Rey had chosen to wear the gown that day, she could only attribute to a whim. "Thank you, my lord." Rey glanced aside as her cheeks burned in the low light of the fortress.
"You always act surprised when I speak with you. Why?"
Her fingers tangled at her waist as she tried to think of a tactful way to tell him.
"I— I am intimidated by you, my lord."
Kylo drew closer, gloved fingers stroking along the table as he neared. "Have I been unkind?"
"No, my lord."
"Then why?"
She swallowed through her nerves. "They call you a Beast out there, and tell stories of your violence."
"A Beast," he huffed at the word, amusement curling it. "Is that how you think of me?"
"It is how I first knew you," she admitted. "When you chased me in your garden, it's how I felt, like I was being hunted by a creature in a mask."
He halted his forward movement, fingers still on the clean, gleaming table, and then that hand rose. For the first time since she'd come to this place, the Knight of Ren unlatched his helmet and tugged it over his head.
Like her, he was human. His skin was milk-pale and paid testament to his avoidance of the light. Her eyes danced across his features, drinking him in, and putting together the little pieces that made him up.
It was interesting rather than straight-forwardly handsome. His nose was large, but suited to him, eyes darker than her own, the hair curling around his face dark as pitch. Little moles dotted him, drew her attention to his thick lips, frowning brows, the angles and planes that shaped him.
After so long with only the mask of his helmet for company, it was as alien as any non humanoid she'd met.
Rey stepped toward him, a hand raised toward that pale skin, and then she remembered herself and it dropped; she glanced away.
"Are you still afraid?" His voice was just as soft, but so human that her chest ached to hear it. It was deep and lovely, and terrifying.
"I don't know," she confessed.
This time, she heard his laugh straight from his own throat, a small sound of amusement, pleasant.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, still too nervous to look at him again.
He set the black helmet on the table, and his dark eyes bored into her. "I thought at first to use you to get out of this place, since you said you're good with ships."
"And now?" Her gaze flicked toward him. It stuck on his own.
They stood like that, her breath caught in her chest as the wheels behind his eyes turned. "We shall see. Sleep, Rey. Tomorrow is another day."
He left her there with her heart beating so strong she could see it through the thin material of her gown.
Rey wore her old clothes as she entered the ship bay the next day. There were a few TIE Fighters in various states of disarray, and then there was a modified black ship that drew her like vibrations on a web.
It was a TIE Fighter, but more. Sleek, lovely, outfitted with twin ion engines. She ran a hand over part of one folded wing, and then began her inspection.
Everything about this vessel indicated it was special. Someone had poured themselves into its modifications, and she suspected that someone was her only companion. It was too much like him, dark and deadly, not to belong to him.
Her suspicion was confirmed when he entered one evening as she worked beneath it.
"Did you stop to eat this afternoon?"
It was unmodulated, an indication that he didn't wear his helmet. Rey rolled her creeper until she could sit up, grabbed a rag, and wiped clear the sweat that had gathered on her forehead.
"It was unimportant." She checked her data pad and grimaced. "I'm late making dinner. I'm sorry, my lord. It won't happen again."
One dark brow twitched. "It's fine. Wash up and come to the mess."
Rey frowned after him, but began to lay everything in an acceptable manner for the next day, then went to the 'fresher to wash her face and hands. In the mirror, she was a disaster, so spent a moment fixing her hair as well.
A meal awaited in the mess. It was heavy fare, with noodles and bread and meat, and there were two places set. As she gaped, Kylo exited the kitchen with a bottle and two glasses in hand.
"Sit," he ordered, and a chair scraped out for her in invitation.
She jumped back at the motion, wide eyes turning on him as he waited. "A-are you a Jedi?"
His jaw tightened, and he pulled up the fingers of one glove before drawing it from his large, spindly hand. "No."
"Oh." She hesitantly slipped onto the seat across from him. "I didn't mean to offend you."
The bottle was already uncorked. It rose from its place and filled each glass. "You didn't."
Such reticent company.
Rey waited for him to take a bite, then he gestured impatiently, noticing she was still, and she lifted her fork to her plate. "This is delicious," she murmured once she'd washed down the first taste. It was a creamy pasta, one she'd passed up as being too complex for the moment.
Kylo Ren didn't acknowledge the compliment, but his eyes gleamed.
"Have you always been skilled with mechanics, Rey?" he asked when they had been eating in silence for long minutes.
She dabbed at her mouth, remembering some comment she'd heard at the outpost one day; an older woman had been teaching her child table manners. "Yes, my lord. As long as I can remember."
"Hm." One long, pale finger stroked the stem of his wine glass. He'd chosen a pale red wine, a rosé, she thought it was called, not that she knew much about wines. "You also have no communication problems with the droids."
She shrugged awkwardly under that keen, dark gaze. "I suppose I don't."
"You said your parents were waiting on you, Rey. Who are they?"
The question cut to her quick. She stared at the line of her dinner knife; Kylo had set the table, something she hadn't needed to do since they always ate separately.
Why did he have to ask her this?
She burned as she answered, "I don't know."
"Curiouser and curiouser," he huffed. "How can you not know? Didn't you tell me they'd come for you?"
She snapped back toward him as she forcefully replied, "They will."
"When did they leave you, little scavenger?" His eyes burned like dark embers trying to pull her in, but she raised her head and stared right back.
"It doesn't matter."
Lush lips curved in amusement. "I think it does." He drummed his fingers against the clear glass, a tiny chiming sound the result, then lifted it toward her.
Rey's breath rushed out as her mind reeled back. Her vision swam until it became dusty sands and dusty sky as a ship rose overhead, and she was small and young and screaming as her hands outstretched for the people aboard that vessel— for her parents.
Precious water leaked freely from her eyes, and her mouth was already scoured dry from the desert, but she didn't care about anything, just them.
She was alone. That loneliness would taint every moment of her life from that point on.
Scrap heaps, derision, long swathes of sand, nights curled up with a makeshift doll in a half-destroyed ship, hash marks lining the wall…
"So alone. Abandoned. Desperate. No wonder you came to me."
The visions of her past shimmered as tears filled the eyes of present Rey. Her chest burned in humiliation and anger, and she couldn't bear him seeing more of her misery.
For once in her life, Rey grabbed the knifeblade of power and turned it back on the one who hurt her.
The how and they why were mysteries to her; in the moment, all she knew was that she could. She saw the line between their minds, and she spread her hands and delved into his own.
And saw stars, so many stars, beautiful and cold and endless.
She saw a scared boy cowering as a man held a blade over him. Not a blade, she realized, a lightsaber.
Ships flew overhead to create the same yawning emptiness in herself, and cold embraces were few and far. Flashes of a strange mask, like his own, but broken, flashed through each thought, crept in the background, and a voice told her to come, come to him, and it would be as it should—
Both of them fell back into their seats, unaware that they'd stood and reached across the expanse of the table for the other.
And then Kylo Ren's chair stuttered backward and he flew across the floor, pale hand circled as though to grip her throat. She rose, strangling and struggling against him.
"Disgusting little desert rat , you dare use the Force? On me?" Spittle flew from his lips, visage twisted in the rage of the creature she'd once heard roaring through the garden.
This was the Beast, this was the monster who haunted the dark fortress and its emerald garden. She scratched at her throat in a desperate attempt to dislodge his grip. Her face reddened with the effort to breathe, her mouth fell open, her eyes rolled back.
She dropped into a heap at his feet, choking for air as her hands clutched her bare and bleeding neck. He'd released her.
Shining black boots entered her vision. Her eyes trailed them up to the fiery glare of the knight. "Are you a Jedi, little scavenger?"
"No, my lord." The words scraped at her raw throat.
One toe prodded at her cheek. "And how do I believe you? You are, after all, a thief."
"You saw," she barked. Her throat burned. "I've been here alone."
"Then how?"
Her vision shimmered hotly. "I don't know."
Kylo sneered and faced into the mess, a gesture flipping the table and tossing it against the far wall. Glass shattered, plates broke. It wasn't enough. He growled as chairs splintered. Another table cracked in half. The mess became a wreckage as he raged.
When he was done, panting and staring down at her pathetic form again, he ordered, "Clean this up," and marched away.
Rey could breathe more freely once he left her, though her throat ached for days, a reminder of his cruelty.
She worked on the TIE Fighter everyday for months, scavenging pieces of the others to get it in working order. Each bolt in place sent a thrill of accomplishment through her. It was one thing to repair a droid, but this was a thing of beauty meant to traverse galaxies.
Kylo appeared for his meals, which she never again missed, but otherwise kept out of sight. He wore his helmet again, too.
Sometimes, the hair at her nape rose and she felt herself being watched, but she never caught him around her. If he thought about her other than her chores and the meals she cooked, she didn't know.
"Your TIE Fighter should be up and running soon," she told him one day as he took his plate from the counter.
He paused midstep. "Oh?"
"I've been working on it." He knew that, but she told him anyway.
"I see," he said. "Do you imagine I'll leave and release you from your service?"
She frowned at his back. "I didn't think about it," Rey answered. "I just— I like fixing things."
He strode away without another word.
The next afternoon, Kylo entered the ship bay and inspected her work for himself. She stood aside, tangling her fingers in worry.
"It'll suffice," he proclaimed at last, and the tension across her chest eased. Instead of leaving, he stocked toward her, tilting her chin as he bored through the mask to stare her down. "You're still mine."
She pulled back, but his glove grip tightened on her face.
"Do you understand that, scavenger?"
"I am serving my time," she retorted," and no more."
He hummed thoughtfully. "We shall see." With those words, he left her again.
That evening, he came to her as she cooked a light dinner for the pair. She felt him before she saw him, his presence a great, magnetic darkness like a blackhole at her back. When she turned with two plates in hand, she did a double take, eyes flying across his bare features.
He'd foregone his helmet.
"Hello," she murmured with uncertainty.
His lips curved a touch. "Hello."
Kylo turned to the side to gesture at the table, the only one she'd managed to salvage from his brutal tantrum.
It was smaller, much more intimate, she realized as he sat across from her. His long arms would easily be able to reach her.
She waited until he'd started eating, warmth blooming when he murmured his approval of the food.
"I was thinking," he said as she started in on her plate, "that we have quite a bit in common."
"Oh?"
Kylo nodded. "We were both such lonely children, wronged by our own families, and we are both Force sensitive." He paused, dark, glittering eyes avaricious on her features. "In fact, we are both unusually strong."
"We are?" Strength in the Force was an idea from a fairy tale. She hadn't dreamed of being sensitive at all, let alone strong, but if he said it…
"Yes. Our own children would be without equal."
The ridiculous statement evoked a laugh. "I don't plan on having children any time soon. I haven't even met anyone—"
"Don't be silly," he interrupted in that cool, soft voice of his. "I've already told you that you're mine. You belong to me. With me."
Rey set down her fork, and one large, pale hand covered her own before she could retreat from the table.
"I will train them. I could teach you, as well, if you show you can be trusted." Those words were wisps of smoke, the illusion of choice, but she heard the hardness of command behind them.
"My lord, I—"
"Kylo Ren. Call me by my name." Her pulse rocketed as he stroked his thumb over the flesh of the back of her hand. "Go on. I want to hear it."
"Kylo," her voice was hardly a whisper, "Ren."
"There it is. Good girl."
Cotton clung to her tongue, absorbing all the moisture from her breath. "Don't, please."
He circled the table, still engulfing her smaller hand in his own, and stared down at her. "You won't be alone anymore."
"My parents—"
"—are never coming for you, Rey. You know the truth, you know who they were."
She shook her head, willing his words away from her.
"Say it."
Rey tugged her arm, but his grasp was firm.
"Do it. Come on. Tell me who they were. Tell yourself the truth."
She didn't want to do this, not with him. This was something she kept buried in the deepest recesses of her hollow heart. It wasn't meant for the likes of Kylo Ren, the Beast, to tear down her walls and reveal.
But those beautiful, dark eyes gleamed down at her, into her, urging her.
"They were noone."
"That's right," he encouraged. "Noone important, not like you will be."
"They were no one and they left me."
He cooed as he pulled her against his arms, into his warm embrace. She shivered against his chest. "That's it, Rey. They left you. But they don't matter anymore. I'm here, and I will never let you go."
Her hands clung to his dark robes, white knuckled and still shaking.
"I will never leave you," Kylo repeated, backing away enough to cup her face and turn it up to his own. She could feel his breath fanning over her lips. And then they dipped downward, following the trajectory painted by his gaze.
"No." She turned her head against his shoulder. "I can't, not right now."
His form stiffened around her.
"I need time," she murmured. Her head was dizzy with the emotions he'd evoked, and the picture of the future he'd begun setting before her.
"You've had time." That voice, usually so soft, was knifelike. "You've had nothing but time here."
"Yes, but—"
A vice forced her to face him again. "I have waited years to find someone who could understand, decades. I will not wait anymore because you're afraid."
"I'm not afraid," she stammered, brows furrowing at his sudden coldness. "I just need more time to think."
"No." He forced her back until she hit the table. A flick of his wrist, and their place settings crashed to the floor in a cacophony of destruction.
"My lord—" her hands were so small against the expanse of his chest, ineffectual as she pushed at him. He forced her down, pinned by one palm as he ripped her trousers down her legs. "Don't, please don't do this."
Her nails sought to sink into his white flesh, painting crimson moons as he opened his robes and his pants. Spitting in his palm, he deemed that enough lubrication. She watched in horror as he rubbed that wetness over a cock that was already hard, and that beguiled her with its size.
Before she could further protest, he pushed inside.
It burned, and she tore there, it was like something tore in her heart. Rey screamed and began to fight anew, but he was so big as he drove into her, stealing her breath, crushing her ribs with his grip. Hands tore open her blouse, and he mouthed her breasts, laving hot kisses and imprinting his teeth across them.
"Feels so good," he murmured between the soft little handfuls. "So hot, so tight." He sat up to watch as he pulled out, groaning at the sight of her blood on his cock. "Fuck." Her back arched when he forced his way back in. "Mine, all mine. My sweet Rey."
His mouth was on hers this time, his tongue taking advantage of her silent scream delve inside and claim her there as well. Once he'd mapped the cavern of teeth and tongue. He fucked her mouth in the same rhythm his hips pumped inside her.
"Gonna come inside," he groaned when they parted so he could breathe; her own air was secondary for his consideration. "Want to breed you, breed my little scavenger."
She sobbed out a broken, "no," but the plea made his length twitch inside her.
"Yes." One large palm fell to her pelvis, pressing over her womb to feel it rock with his thrusts. "Can't wait to see you round with my child, your tits full of milk. You'll be beautiful."
The fist against his chest did nothing. He started stroking her clit with one thumb, and the pain of his penetration mingled with it into a coil of heated, unwilling pleasure.
Her toes curled as he praised her, her sunkissed flesh, her soft hair, her warm eyes. "Mine, mine, mine," was his mantra. "My Rey, my family, my perfect little wife."
Stars burst white behind her squeezed shut eyes as pleasure fizzled from head to toe. She arched into him, fisting his black sleeves over hard biceps. He growled as she came undone, fucking her slowly through it lest he fall himself.
When the fluttering of her walls gentled into aftershocks, he hissed and thrust inside her with the sharpness of a blade, emptying his seed against the entrance to her womb.
They panted there for a moment, Kylo leaning to press his forehead against hers, Rey blinking tears and sweat from her eyes. He stood straight and watched his cock at her apex, then gazed upon her face with a softness she hadn't thought possible.
Rey sniffled and raised on her palms. "May I go clean up now?" She sounded broken to her ears.
"No." The word made her flinch. "No, I'm not done with you yet." His length pulsed inside her, already growing hard. He began to rock his hips again. "I need to keep filling you up, to make sure it takes."
"Please, don't," she sobbed. "No more."
He pulled out only to turn her onto her belly, legs dangling off the table. He swirled the head of his thick cock in their mixed, bloodied fluid, and pushed back in, burning and stretching despite the fact that he'd already used her. "We don't want to waste all this cum, do we?" His breath tickled her ear, and she clenched around him despite herself, evoking a deep, masculine chuckle. "Little Rey, you should be excited. We're gonna be a family soon." And he began his assault on her cunt again.
This time, he wrapped a thick arm around her waist, palming one of her small breasts while the other arm was at her hips. She was a doll in his grip, and he used her body for what felt like hours before he came in her again.
When she reached for the tattered remnants of her shirt, Kylo slapped it away. He was already fully dressed again, and he pulled her into his arms despite her flinching at his touch. "You don't need clothes right now," he murmured against her hair.
She was too wrung out to fight him, so she let him carry her to a room she'd never seen before.
It was black, with a large black bed and black covers, black walls and floor. He dropped her on the center of the bed and began to strip off his black clothes.
The body revealed was thick with muscles, the figure of a man who could fight his way out of a battle alone. He pushed her prone on the bed and laid kisses on her throat, his cock hard again and rubbing against her aching stomach.
"I can't," she protested.
He smiled down at her, a cruel god. "One more time, then we'll sleep." She whimpered as he pushed into her again, stirring her stinging walls, the ridge created by the head of his cock like sandpaper against her.
Kylo knelt up over her, staring down with such tenderness she felt like a cup, a vessel for his twisted affections. He rocked gently, as though they made love, though it hurt her, and he didn't care.
"We'll do this everyday until it takes," he assured her. "And we'll have— so many children." Kylo lowered over her again, kissed her lips, and asked, "How many should we have, Rey? Four? Six?"
"It hurts," she whispered back, feeling the way his lips curved into a smile against her cheek. "More?" His eyes fluttered shut, thick lashes like the softest kiss. "More. I'll fill you up again and again."
He groaned as he came inside her a third time that night.
Kylo rested on top of her for some time, saying that he needed to keep his seed from spilling as long as possible. When his soft cock finally came out, and he curled around her smaller form, he wouldn't let her go and wash. "Rest, my love. You need to rest now."
She huddled her knees close to her chest, but he'd already wrapped an arm around her to press her to his chest.
It was too heavy to remove even when he fell asleep.
Long into the night, she laid there, wondering how she deserved such a fate. As the first fingers of morning light seeped into the room, a spot of color caught her eye.
A drawer in his bedside table was open. Inside was the tattered little doll that had been her only friend for so long. It was on top of a picture of a dark haired little boy smiling up at a woman whose hair was braided in a crown.
Written across the white edge at the bottom of the photo was, "Ben—may these desert blooms remind you of your roots, of family, and of my love for you. Always, mom."