CW: wounds, blood etc
'
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The Naragrethel sword felt right in Rey's hands, despite the unfamiliar length. Perhaps it was just the rush of killing an Ancient, of regaining her agency; for now what Marwolaeth could stand against her?
Perhaps that was hubris, she thought as she sliced apart the Ancient's body, but it was a good feeling.
That feeling swiftly dissipated though, when she heard a thud and turned to see her mate had fallen.
Instantly she felt a stab of fear and when she fell to her knees beside him, that was joined with guilt, for she was responsible for this, for all his injuries and everyone else's besides.
He was pale as she brushed his matted hair out of his face, his breathing shallow and wrong, and the gash on his face was still bleeding freely.
Carefully, Rey licked over the wound as she pressed the edges together with her fingers, the taste of him shivered through her body but she ignored it, focusing on stopping and sealing the wound so she could move on to the next.
They had been lucky that there had been no venom on the Sai blades she had been given, in retrospect, that was a huge oversight on the Marwolaeth's part, but it had seemed like a spur of the moment decision - the idea to pit her against her mate. And that was the essence of Marwolaeth nature, cruel, vindictive, evil. For once, it came back to bite them, she smiled a little to herself at that thought, then frowned as she attempted to undo Kylo's armour.
Rey had very little understanding of armour and the use of it, it was heavy, cumbersome and complicated. Before she came to the Slør, she had never seen anything like what the Knights wore, the Rakhâs wore leather armour, Marwolaeth sometimes wore protection on their arms and shoulders, but she had seldom seen it, much less studied it.
She was just about to resort to using her teeth in desperation, when she tensed and spun, her new sword poised to strike at the oncoming threat, but to her relief, it was just one of Kylo's brothers, the sandy haired one who grinned too much. He was not grinning now though.
"You will help? I cannot get to his wounds."
He nodded and shouted to someone behind her, then knelt awkwardly, inhibited by his own armour
"So he lives?" he asked, as he started undoing a buckle she had not noticed.
Rey nodded and bit her lip, "For now, but his blood, I can smell it. There is much. Too much." She looked anxiously around them and realised there was no more fighting, "They are dead?" her voice sounded small and disbelieving to her own ears, the Knight just grunted.
They were dead… how was this possible? She shut her eyes and pushed her senses out, scenting the air, sorting through the many types of blood, listening intently for dark hearts, but it was as he said, dead, dead, they were all dead.
It seemed impossible. When she opened her eyes again, she felt wet warmth on her face and swiped at her cheeks.
If she were to honour duty, she would go and ensure the destruction of the remains, but she could not bring herself to leave her bondmate until she knew he would be well.
"When I remove his breastplate, you need to press on the wound, then we take his gambeson off and can plug the wound properly."
Rey chewed her lip and nodded, trying not to think about how hungry she was.
The knight nodded grimly, "On three; one, two, three!"
Her bondmate let out a pained moan as the armour lifted away, pulling the Sai out of his wound at the same time and Rey swifting pushed both her hands onto it, nose wrinkling at the blooming scent of thick, rich blood.
What if… there had been a rumour, hushed whispers in the Amddiffynfa about the use of Trollskïr blood. She had never paid it any mind, as it was related to giving birth, but memory stirred now… and if it worked for wounds made by Naragrethel… She licked her lips, she had lost a lot of blood over the past few days, even now she was weak, but, Kylo Ren must not die.
When the padded jacket that had been under the armour was ready to come off, she made a decision.
"Same again," the Knight muttered, himself clearly exhausted and wounded.
It hurt her heart, to be the cause of so much pain.
"One, two, three!"
Rey pulled up his undershirt with one hand and sliced her other wrist with her teeth, then pressed it firmly into Kylo's wound, flexing her hand to aid the flow.
"Hey, what are you-" the Knight began, reaching to pull her arm away and she hissed, crouching over her bondmates body to protect it as she bared her teeth.
When he flinched away from her, she felt a little bad, but didn't move as she explained, "The wound is too great, my blood, it will help."
He frowned uncertainly and she looked past him, "What of the others? Was anyone bitten? The wounded, bring them to me."
He still didn't move, and she hissed in irritation, "His other wounds, they are small. I give you oath," she cocked her head, "You bleed, your shoulder, your leg, your arm. Your metal, take it off so I may see."
Finally, there was a glimmer of his usual smile and his tense shoulders relaxed a little, "I am currently upright, so others take precedence… if you are sure Kylo is not in danger, I will go and tend to others."
Rey nodded, "The bad ones, bring them to me, or end their pain."
His expression sobered and he struggled onto his feet.
Rey looked back at Kylo, nervous despite the way she had reassured his brother, because what if she was wrong? A closer look at his face, and she thought he was breathing easier, she had missed some of the blood on his face, so she gently licked up the smears and drops.
Once he was as clean as she could make him, she followed her nose along to his left forearm, with her free hand she tugged at the fastenings of the armour, it was sliced clean through and she could smell a miniscule trace that the Naragrethel had left behind. Beneath there was a steady stream of blood from the cut, not a dangerous quantity, but it wouldn't stop until she healed it and he had already lost too much. With the tip of one tooth, she nicked the pad of her thumb, pressed until it beaded, then applied it to the wound. It worked, before her eyes the wound sealed shut and she let go a breath of relief, for if it worked on this, surely it must work on the other wound.
After lapping the blood off his hand and wrist, she lay her head down, just for a brief rest, but her eyelids were heavy and they slipped closed before she could sit up again.
'
"Rey?"
A hand gripped her shoulder and she startled awake, spinning and hissing before she remembered that the battle was over.
It was Phasma, bloodied and dirtied, but alive and standing.
"Zainmar said you can help with wounds and bites? Are you well enough hermaður systir? What of your own injuries?"
Rey shook her head a little to clear it, "My wounds are few and small," she flicked her fingers dismissively, "But, for bites, I regret, it is too late. Their venom, it travels quickly. It is best to gant mercy."
Phasma grimaced, but did not look surprised, "I thought as much, I will relay that. What of Kylo?"
Rey looked down at her sleeping bondmate and felt her heart lift, she could see death no longer beckoned him home. "He will live, and will fight again." she paused to think, "Perhaps, if the bite is small, or just a scratch, I can save them. But this I do not know for sure."
"I will bring any to you, if they are still kicking," Phasma gestured beside them and Rey belatedly realised there were three bodies lined up, Phasma's mouth pressed into a distressed line, "Leonmar, and two others who the menders have said are beyond them, I-" she stopped and took a shuddering breath in.
Rey nodded, carefully she stood, making sure that Phasma could not detect any weakness in her. She pressed her fingers to her wrist and went first to the Knight.
He had lost an ear and his right side had deep claw marks, which must have been from a rukhs, they had already removed his armour and staunched the wounds, but it was too little, too late… but not for her.
Quickly, ignoring her shaking fingers, she ripped his clothing, using her saliva and blood, she treated his deepest wounds first, she even fed him some of her blood, for he needed strength as well as healing or he wouldn't last. Once she was done, she covered him up and moved on to the next man, and the next, then two more were bought and once she was almost done, Phamas came, gasping with the effort of carrying a man who was emitting a high, keening moan.
Rey knew that sound and what it meant.
The bite was small, the teeth had barely gone in, the man was young, barely a man at all, the hair on his chin still soft.
"If I faint and do not wake, use my blood on any more wounded," she told Phasma firmly and before the other woman could answer, she pressed her mouth to the man's shoulder and sucked.
The venom always burned, even when she did it to herself when she was young, it was acrid and foul and hateful, but, it was also a defiance, a refusal to acquiesce, to go quietly.
She sucked and spat and sucked again until she felt the vibration of his moans ease and she spat one last time.
"It is done, wash the wound, bind it, I think he will live."
He was lucky, likely more so than he would ever know, because at that moment, darkness finally sunk its hooks into her, and she fell.
'
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'
The scent of smoke awoke Kylo. He recognised it immediately - it was not something you ever forgot - the caustic stench of burning Deyði-eta.
He coughed, winced, and coughed again, blinking his gritty eyes open to a rising sun in a bright blue sky.
What had happened? Why did his body ache and where the helviti was he? Even as he wondered this, he coughed again, burning Deyði-eta - the battle, Rey!
"You are awake earlier than expected," a voice said close by, and he jolted in surprise, "Here, drink, slowly mind or you will cough it back up."
Hands slid under his shoulders, tilting him so he could sip from a wooden cup and his eyes found a vaguely familiar face, the castle mender, Egin? Something beginning with E anyway.
The water was cold and clear and sweet, it soothed his raw throat and granted him further lucidity.
His armour had been removed, as had all his clothes above the belt, though he was covered by a scratchy blanket… hadn't he been injured?
He struggled to sit up, ignoring the mender's admonitions as he pulled the blanket aside and stared down at a large, ragged pink scar.
"How long have I been asleep?" he asked worriedly.
The mender huffed, "Not as long as you fear, no, your wound was," he paused as if unsure what to say, "tended to, by the Harri's wrangler."
Rey, Kylo looked around him, noting the other soldiers lying in neat lines around him. He swallowed when he saw a body clad in black, a Knight, a few spaces down from him.
"Who?" he asked, pointing.
The mender frowned, "Your brother, Leonmar, I do not yet know if he will survive his injuries."
Kylo swallowed again, eyes fixed on Leonmar, "What of the others? What of Rey?"
"The remaining Knight's bear injuries, but none grievous, the wrangler, I am less sure of," he licked his lips, "She is an unknown to me, my craft is the wellbeing of man."
A glance inward showed Kylo the golden twine was paler, weaker, his last memory of her was of her standing, defiant. He knew she had been bitten in her captivity, but enough for this?
"Take me to her."
"Harri, you must not move yet, we do not know the extent of your injury, I could not ask the girl, she was unconscious when I got to you!"
With a scowl Kylo grabbed the man by the shirt and growled, "Take. me. to. my. Mate."
The mender blinked, stuttering, "Your mate?!" as if he didn't understand the word, though perhaps it was a rather unusual use of it.
"Yes!" Kylo grit out, letting the man go and gathering himself so he could rise, "The wrangler," he added for clarity, "Take me to her or tell me where to find her."
"I can take him, Eyðun," a weary voice said, and Kylo looked up to see Javiell, arm in a sling and limping slightly, picking his way towards them.
A small part of the knot of tension he carried was released, that was two, but he needed to see Rey, Phasma, Ingalan, Zainmar and Luke before that knot would ease completely.
"Brother," he said as Javiell held out his good hand.
Javiell responded with a nod, "Brother." He and the mender helped Kylo to his feet, ignoring the mender's muttering.
"It is good to see you awake."
Kylo staggered slightly, but didn't fall and he and Javiell started off, after a few faltering steps, he realised that actually, besides aching and sore, he was in better shape than he expected.
"What happened?"
Javiell sighed heavily, "We saw you go down, we kept them away but could do nothing until they were all killed. Zain found you after, he and Rey removed that dagger and, well, Zain said she put her blood in you? She must have done something to your face as well, it has scarred already."
Kylo had forgotten about his face, he poked it and found that Javiell was right, "What do you mean, put her blood in me?"
"Zain just said she cut herself and pushed her blood into your wound," he shrugged, "You can ask him when he wakes, he did his usual thing of seeing to everyone else before collapsing."
A small smile curved Kylo's lips, Zainmar may act the clown frequently, but he had a caring side that he could not cover up.
"And Phasma? Ingalan? Egin said they were not in any danger, though he didn't tell me of Luke, or how many casualties there were."
"Eyðun," Javiell emphasised the name, "Was right, no one escaped unscathed but it could have been worse, Luke, well, Luke lost a hand. It isn't pretty but he will live," Kylo grimaced in sympathy, but didn't interrupt, "We took heavy casualties, but I think we all expected it would be a hard fight. Forty seven dead, others may follow them, there were very few left completely unscathed. The blood soaked arrows were not as effective as we had hoped and they didn't work on the Uruk," he gave a small, dark smirk, "They didn't like the fire arrows and combustibles though."
They reached the camp proper, downwind of the burning pyres he could see in the distance, with men still dragging bodies there, aided by skittish horses.
"And what happened to Rey?" he asked quietly as they approached what must be the entrance to the Myrkrið Holur.
"She aided in healing, until she collapsed," Javiell said seriously, "Her injuries were greater than she led us to believe."
Kylo felt a frisson of fear and frustration go through him, "Why is she not with the other injured? Why is the mender not tending to her?"
"Well," Javiell said cautiously as they entered the cool darkness of the cave entrance, "There were more with the Deyði-eta than we had realised…"
And Kylo realised that despite the silence, there were people, humans, huddled together, pressed against the rock of the walls.
"What…?"
"Slaves," Javiell muttered, then added, "Food," meaningfully and Kylo felt sick as he understood. "They insisted on caring for Rey," he continued quietly, "And to be honest, none of us knew what to do, but," he gestured to where Phasma was getting to her feet, "We never left her alone with them, she was safe. Though I doubt that she is in danger from them, they treat her like royalty."
Phasma strode towards them as the others shrank back, their quiet murmurings hushing like a breeze.
"Should you really be up?" Phasma asked critically before giving him a one armed hug, "But Maker it is good to see you awake."
Her pale blonde hair had a distinct pinkness to it, there was a long cut across her jaw and he noted a bandaged shoulder and knee, but otherwise she seemed the fittest person he had seen apart from the mender.
"Mender said not, but he insisted," Javiell supplied as Kylo scanned her body and he shrugged.
Phasma smirked, "The Deyði-eta seemed hesitant to kill me, I did not feel the same way about them."
He decided he didn't want to think about why that might be and was just grateful that she was still with them, (not that she was any less capable than the other Knights).
Then he caught sight of his kærur and he forgot his relief.
Upon a bed of furs, much like the garment she had been covered in the night before, lay Rey. Her face and neck had been cleaned and her hair had been combed and braided, the rest of her was covered in furs, and she was not alone.
A man and a woman were either side of her, pressed against her body, while a woman sat by her head, her wrist bandaged.
Rey looked as if she were just sleeping, but in the light of the torches he could see how pale her skin was, her lips were blue.
Ignoring the fact that there was an unknown man in bed with his kærur as best he could, Kylo asked, "She purged a bite?"
Phasma nodded, "Yes, they have fed her, but it is difficult persuading her to take it and she has not yet awoken… unfortunately, they do not speak basic, so communicating is proving difficult."
Kylo started to hurry over to her, "I need to feed her, maybe my blood will-"
"You cannot!" Phasma stopped him with a hand on his arm, "You lost too much blood yourself."
His head chose that moment to start spinning and Phasma's grip on his arm tightened, she glared at him, "Do not waste what she did for you."
He looked at Javiell, who nodded, and he let out out a discontented breath, "Fine, but if she does not improve soon, I will feed her," he pointed at the mound of furs, "But one of them needs to move because I am staying with her."
Phasma snorted inelegantly but allowed him to move past her and followed after him.
Kylo tried to remember what it was Rey had called him, when she had claimed him as hers, was it really just a day ago?
The woman settled by Rey's head studied him cautiously, the other two slaves hid their faces, so he spoke to the braver one.
Putting his hand on his chest, he said, "Ah, yestha'e?" then pointed to Rey, then back at him.
The woman frowned, her lips murmuring the word to herself as she tried to understand, obviously he was misremembering… "Jesta-e?"
Javiell made a rather crude mime beside him, but before he could glower at him, the small woman blinked, shocked, he thought, as the light of understanding dawned on her face.
She repeated the word, though slightly differently, then hesitantly asked him a question, at least that was what he assumed by her expectant look.
He shook his head and shrugged, then moved to lift the furs and mimed getting in and flicked his fingers at the man, hoping his meaning was clear.
To his irritation, the woman looked questioningly at Phasma. Phasma nodded, the woman frowned, but directed the man to leave and Kylo wasted no time slipping into the furs and pulling Rey against him, ignoring the protests of both other women.
He found that Rey had been redressed, whatever the material was it was silky, but underneath that she was nude, no undergarments.
He curled his limbs around Rey, tucking her head under his chin and glaring pointedly at them to get his message across before closing his eyes and reaching out for the Force, and for his mate.
Cold, weak, depleted, frail, but still there, and as he pressed their skin together, he felt something more, an answer, from her body at least, the faintest lessening of her freezing skin.
He took a breath in and opened his eyes again, to find he had an audience, Javiell, and Phasma had been joined by a weary, beaten up Ingalan and a timid crowd of curious slaves.
"Good to see you, brother - my apologies, but I need to stay here for a while."
Ingalan nodded, "And it is good to see you awake, brother. I had guessed as much, besides, the mender said you were up too soon, rest now. We will wake you if you are needed."
Kylo shook his head, "No, stay, if you can, tell me of your injuries."
Phasma rolled her eyes good naturedly, "Kylo, we can see your eyelids are drooping; sleep. We will stay near, you are both safe."
He wanted to protest, because surely everyone was exhausted, not just him, but it was as if a spell was cast when Phasma said the word safe, he could not fight the call of sleep any longer.
'
When Kylo surfaced, it was slow, awareness trickling in like sand through an hourglass. It began with touch - his bare chest pressed against deliciously hot satiny skin, lean muscles and slender curves. Movement - his legs tangled with others, hips rocking gently against his, little fingers clutching reflexively at his upper arms. Scent - smoke and musky arousal. Sound - small, soft noises in the back of a throat, the sound of swallowing…
His eyes blinked open to find Rey, eyes still closed, a wrist pressed to her mouth as she fed, her body ground against his… and he realised he was hard. Absolutely rock hard.
He came to this understanding while staring into the eyes of the woman feeding Rey. By rights, that should have caused him to soften, but unfortunately, his body did not care, especially with the way Rey was clinging to him.
His cheeks and ears, which were already warm, heated further. The woman, however, did not seem bothered in the slightest at what Rey was obviously doing beneath the furs. In some ways, that made it worse, that and the fact that her cheeks were rosy and she was obviously feeling the effect of Rey's bite herself.
"Um," he said, when the quiet became unbearable, but there was nothing he could say that she would understand and he trailed off.
The woman said something unintelligible but vaguely soothing, he didn't know if she was reassuring him about Rey or trying to ease his obvious discomfort.
His fingers twitched under the furs, tempted to help Rey climax in the hopes that she would still afterwards, but he didn't want anyone to see her reach her peak but him, so he restrained himself.
The woman gasped softly and then spoke to someone behind him and a man appeared, wrist already cut, and he took her place as she bandaged her wound.
Kylo sat up, trying not to scowl at the man as he watched Rey latch on, it was then he remembered that he was shirtless, and that he was garnering a lot of attention from the other slaves. His ears heated further.
"Here," came Ingalans welcoming voice and a shirt was tossed at him, "Put that on, then eat.
He turned to see all the Knights but Leonmar, smirking at him, he muttered under his breath and did as suggested.
"You have been out for about six hours," Phasma said, as he ate, "Rey has not opened her eyes again, but she is no longer in danger I think."
Ignoring the sounds from the slave feeding Rey as best they could, they talked about the clean up process. How the seriously injured would be moved, and that Leonmar had suddenly taken a turn for the better, and they all thought that what Rey had done had saved him.
"He is going to have some impressive scars though," Zainmar said with a slight smirk, "No longer such a pretty boy. That probably makes me the most attractive out of the lot of us."
Phasma snorted, "The scars will just make him prettier, Zain, and if they did not, Ingalan would be next, not you."
Zainma gasped, clutching his hand to his chest as if mortally wounded while Javiell snickered and Ingalan tried not to look smug and failed. Kylo found himself grinning, it was a good feeling.
"How bad is my scar," he asked. He had a vague memory of being relieved Rey's weapon had missed his eye, but he was not certain how extensive it had been.
"She got you good," Javiell said as they all peered at him in the dim light of the torch-lit cave.
"Above your eyebrow, down your cheek and part of your neck," Ingalan said helpfully.
Phasma nodded, "You are lucky you did not lose your eye."
"Oh maker, can you imagine him with an eyepatch," Zainmar grinned.
Ingalan smiled, "Women would love it, it would go with his whole dark and brooding aspect."
"But you still would not win in your sparring sessions," Phasma added.
"Hey!" Zainmar objected indignantly and they all fell about laughing until one of the slaves became bold enough to shush them.
Phasma let out a sigh, "Helviti, but it will be good to return to the castle, I want to live in the baths for the next day at least."
"I think we can move Leonmar this evening," Ingalan said hopefully, "If we take a gentle pace."
Kylo glanced around him, "What are Luke's plans for these slaves?"
"I would think he will offer them sanctuary in the Slør," Phasma answered, "Though we are waiting for Rey to wake so we can communicate properly. They chased the mender away when he offered his assistance, and they refuse to leave the cave."
Zainmar was opening his mouth but Kylo would not hear what he was going to add because there came a sharp and familiar hiss, and Kylo's heart flooded with relief.
'
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'
Once again, Rey woke with blood in her mouth. It is not the worst way to wake up, but when you realise you are naked and wet between your legs and are unsure where you are, it is not so nice.
She flung the arm away from her mouth, hurriedly sitting up, clutching the fur to her chest as her eyes adjusted and she looked around.
Her mate was sitting a few paces away, whole and upright, and before she could really take in the rest of her surroundings, he launched himself at her.
She had no time to protest, or to brace herself or move out of the way - her reflexes were yet sluggish, but she managed an outraged hiss before his mouth descended upon hers, ignoring her bared teeth.
Either his lip or his tongue caught on a point of one of her teeth and the bloom of his blood, sacred blood, diverted her from fighting him.
Large hot hands pulled her close, his huge body covered her, pinning her down as he kissed her. His lips were almost angry, desperate, his grip hard, as if he thought she would disappear like smoke. He pressed against the delicate, flushed area between her legs and she shivered.
"Kylo?" Phasmas' voice cut through the haze of want in her head as his shoulder shook, "Maybe let her breathe?"
Kylo grunted but shifted a little and Rey let out an involuntary gasp and at that he moved off her, brows drawn down in concern, "Are you well, tiny Trollskïr?"
At that address, she glared at him and looked at Phasma, who was grinning down at her, "My thanks, you are whole?"
Phasma smothered a laugh at Kylo's irritated expression, "I am. It is good to see you awake. I was worried."
Rey shrugged, "It is the price I must pay," it was then, as she looked around her, that she noticed the slaves.
Their dun coloured clothing was unmistakable, the cut familiar even if the tattoos of ownership on their necks and wrists were not.
They all looked at her, expectant and almost awed, as if they had never seen a Trollskïr before.
Rey looked back at Kylo and Phasma, the other Knights were there too, save the one she had healed, Rey frowned, "Your brother? He did not live?"
"He lives," Kylo said, still looking vexed, "He is resting, as you should be."
She huffed, "I am fine."
"Amê?" a hushed voice asked and Rey snapped her gaze over to the nearest slave.
"Do not call me that"" she snapped, switching to Khuzdul, as she stared daggers at the man who had addressed her, "My name is Heulyn!"
Gasps accompanied this statement and the man ducked his head in apology, another, a small woman with short curly black hair and a bandaged wrist, shuffled forward, "Blessed one, your forgiveness, we only heard what the Uzrak named you."
Rey huffed, "The Uzrak is dead," she grinned, baring her teeth as she added, "I beheaded him myself."
To her dismay, there was a chorus of cries as they all got down onto their knees and pressed their heads to the ground.
She looked back at the Knights, who looked perplexed and she remembered that they did not understand.
"I told them of the death of their owners."
"How could they not have known?" the tallest one wondered and she shrugged.
"Maybe they needed to hear it in their own tongue."
"Blessed one," asked the same slave as before, "Would you like us to take them away," she gestured at the Knights, "He," here she pointed at Kylo, "He claimed you were his mate?"
She sounded disbelieving, which Rey supposed was understandable as in Ymerodraeth humans and Trollskïr only ever interacted when Trollskïr needed to feed.
She glanced sidelong at Kylo, who was still frowning, "He was correct," she said quietly, slightly shy even now, even though he could not understand her. She turned back to address the slaves, "There are no," she caught herself and looked out of the cave mouth, it was still daylight, "There are no Marwolaeth here, you are safe, you are free." She ignored the disbelieving murmuring, "The Zabad here is a good man, he will help you." She did not know that for certain, but she spoke the truth of Luke… she turned back to the Knights, suddenly afraid, "What of Harri Luke?"
Kylo sighed heavily, "He lives, though he lost a hand."
Rey hissed, angry at herself again for letting it come to this. None of the multitude of harm would have occurred if she had just died on her way over the mountains.
"But," the slave woman spoke again, "You live with these savages?"
"In their eyes, we are the savages," Rey answered, "I have lived here for five years, it is a good place. Their language is ugly though."
Kylo's fingers laced with hers and she shivered, "Where are my clothes?" she meant to ask him but it came out in Khuzdul.
"They were soiled and torn, we will dress you, the Uzrak bought suitable clothing for you."
Rey hissed, "I will not wear anything of theirs!"
The slave shrugged, "There is nothing else suitable."
Rey hissed, to herself this time, and turned to look at the Knights, "You must leave, I need to clothe myself."
"In what?" asked the grinning one.
"I will find something!" she snapped back.
Phasma stood, and thankfully the others, apart from Kylo, did the same.
When she looked expectantly at him, he looked perplexed, "What? I saw you naked just yesterday."
A bright red blush rose on her cheeks as she gave an outraged splutter, she wasn't able to respond though, because the slave woman walked right up to him and gesticulated at the mouth of the cave, followed by several others.
Rey was somewhat impressed.
Kylo growled and stood, "Tell them to step back, I am not going anywhere."
The tiny slave woman, who was actually tiny - she was shorter than Rey by a hand, did not falter, but put her hands on her hips and glared up at him insistently.
"Kylo," Phasma said, "Come, let us go and see how Leonmar is doing and how preparations for return to the castle go. Rey won't be disappearing anywhere," she arched an eyebrow at Rey, "Will you?"
With a huff, Rey nodded, where did they think she would go exactly? It was either further into the cave or out or it!
With a tense mouth and a loaded stare that promised retribution, Kylo nodded and they left.
She looked at the lead slave, "What is your name?"
The woman smiled, "I am named Rose," she hesitated, then added, "Rose Tico."
Rey smiled - slaves were prohibited from having more than one name, it was good to hear that they still used them, even if it was only amongst themselves. Trollskïr only ever bothered with one name, though when they were claimed that was changed.
"Which clan are you from? Your marks are not Id-Asâlukh."
Rose shook her head, "Zê'shumr, your clan hid your disappearance, but a message was intercepted by Zabad Ûjaitar and he told Zabad Ânimhos that they were still searching for you, he… he used the id-narag'azrâd, and followed them here."
That was disturbing news.
"Who else knows where he was bound? Is his return expected?"
But none of them knew, and that meant that she still brought danger here, to the Slør, to its people, and to her bondmate.
I must leave. I must leave, go back through the mountains, either die there or back to… no, she would rather die than go back to the Amddiffynfa or anywhere else in Ymerodraeth.
"May we dress you now?" Rose asked, and Rey was pulled from her despairing thoughts.
'
As she expected, there was little that was practical in the things the Ancient had brought with them, other than the furs. She had little understanding of the relationship between a Trollskïr and a Marwolaeth, but it seemed that the Trollskïr was kept almost naked most of the time.
In the end, they dressed her in an Ikhsêg, it was a piece of material wrapped across her chest and shoulders and around her waist, the skirt was longer in the front with slits at the sides. The material was delicately pleated, made of a soft, shimmering fabric that did admittedly feel good against her skin. They cinched it with a belt at her waist, far too ornate but she liked the security it gave her. She refused the necklace and headdress that apparently went with it - the slaves could sell them to aid their new lives, or Luke could take the things as tribute, she did not care.
There were at least shoes, soft boots of leather which she decided she would keep for when the weather was colder and Rose found her a short fur jacket, it ended at her rib cage but was better than the enormous one that made walking difficult.
"Do the Zê'shumr not have Trollskïr?" she asked Rose, after hearing numerous times from the ones who helped her that serving her was an honour.
Rose nodded, "They do, but we have never seen one, they were kept hidden away and had their own slaves."
"Oh," she could not hide her surprise, "Id-Asâlukh did not allow us slaves, we did things for ourselves, save to feed," she trailed off, faintly embarrassed, but could not explain why.
"Oh," Rose echoed, "I am sorry if we have transgressed… we did not know, we thought you would be like them, a little at least."
Rey shook her head vehemently, "No! Trollskïr do not kill from the ones we feed from, we are not a danger to other beings. We can bear sunlight and eat food and take water," she shook her head again, "No," she said, softly this time, "We are not like them." she looked up when a hand hesitantly reached out to pat her arm, "The people here, they are not cruel. You will be safe, you can make your own life," she raised her voice slightly so all the people in the cave could hear her as she said, "You are slaves no longer."
The reception was mixed at best, but Rose nodded seriously, and squeezed her arm again and Rey hoped it would not be long before the others believed it too.
'
**^V^**
Translations/meanings:
'
Neo-Khuzdul (Vampire)
Zabad = lord
Id-Asâlukh = The Desolators (Rey's original clan)
Zê'shumr = Clan of the First Watch (Hux's clan)
Uzrak = master
Id-narag'azrâd = the black magic
Ikhsêg = covering/robe, similar to this image
'
Welsh (Trollskïr)
Amddiffynfa = citadel
Ymerodraeth = empire
'
Faroese (Gamal)
Helviti = fuck/hell