They laced her into a soft dress interwoven with cloth of gold, the fabric shimmering when she moved in the sunlight. Her hair was left down, highlighting her status as a woman of moral purity. She felt practically weighed down by the jewels lining her head and throat, but she saw the wisdom of it. Things were precarious. Far too precarious to inspire true calm. So instead she would have to try and impress with her majesty, emphasize that the Crown was powerful and had everything in hand.

And then she just needed to make that a reality.

The roads were filled with cheering crowds, the chaos having remarkably little effect on the Tower's well-trained horses. Children were shuffled to the front, waving to her shyly and hiding behind their mothers whenever she waved back.

She perched side-saddle and rode at the head of the procession. At the moment, after all, no one was her equal.

Her retinue followed her, guards all clothed in striking crimson and black. They even had ostridge plumes that hung from their hats, giving the whole procession a slightly jaunty feel. Look at us, it all said. Look at how wealthy our new Queen is. Look at how loyal we will be. You have nothing to fear.

The cathedral itself was decorated magnificently. Rey allowed herself to marvel at the ceiling for a moment, wondering if it was so high that it could perhaps truly reach God. When she finally lowered her gaze, she took in the crowd of nobility who resided close enough to London to easily attend, sitting respectfully in rows.

Luke carried the crown into the Cathedral. He had earned that right when he found her locked in the penitence room of St. Jakku. When he explained that he was a close friend of her parents before their deaths and that he owed them a debt he wished to repay. When he offered her a chance at a new life.

Lord Han carried the sceptre, given how he had swooped to her rescue in her time of need. Where Luke was the past, Lord Han was the future, an inclusion of nobility that had existed under Snoke and a demonstration of peace towards them.

The Archbishop of Canterbury anointed her with oil and placed the crown on her head.

Her heart was in her throat as he lowered the metal. It seemed to last an age, her whole body tense as she waited.

As soon as it touched her skin, Rey felt a brief and powerful warp in the air. It was as dark and unholy as Ren's blood circle, somehow inherently corrupted. It stole the breath from her lungs, making her grip the sceptre tighter as the priest droned on. There was such malevolence in it that it filled her with rage, turning the tiles beneath her feet red, strangling her chest and filling her throat with bile.

And then, just as quickly, it disappeared. Its sudden absence was almost as shocking as the sudden descent, giving the sensation of abruptly coming up from underwater.

She was still reeling when the priest finished his blessing, everyone rising to their feet so that the mass could continue. With a prickle along the back of her neck, heart thumping in her chest, she stood and confirmed that she now felt completely herself. The festering wound on her soul was gone.

The priest asked the crowd if they accepted her as their new monarch. The cheer went up: Yea! Yea!

The rest of the service was jubilant, hymns sung with echoing enthusiasm. Briefly, she noticed Lady Leia sobbing into a kerchief towards the side of the room, her stony-faced son perfectly composed beside her.

By the time the court had finished moving to Whitehall, she was already exhausted. She forced her steps with the crowd to the Great Hall, where she took a seat at the centre of the head table, itching to lift the heavy crown off her brow.

Minstrels were playing merrily, guests slowly taking their places. Ren moved to sit to her left at a chair slightly lower than hers and she glanced towards him, the image of him with a bleeding palm still playing across her mind. He was dressed in an expensive looking doublet and hose, everything made from solid black fabric. Which, as she now knew, was his usual custom.

He inclined his neck towards her. "May I offer my congratulations," he murmured, not meeting her eyes.

She just nodded wordlessly, fingers clenching in the fine skirts of her dress.

The serving boys began to arrive, bearing great dishes of succulents and meat. They would first make their way to her table, where she would take a bite of the morsel, judge its quality, and- if it was good- send it along to whoever was deserving.

Luke got the first fine cut, of course. Followed by Lord Han and Lady Leia. Her ladies in waiting, next, and the Archbishop of Canterbury and his retinue certainly needed to be shown respect.

After that, she hesitated.

She was so tired, and there were so many people, and her head was pounding from trying to retain so much information. Her hands were starting to clench in panic when there was a rustle to her left.

"Sir Kotenn is old and ill," Ren murmured at her elbow. "He has three daughters who are very young. It would be a great advantage to the crown for them to become wards of the state- to control their wealth until they are of marriageable age." Shifting his gaze, he looked to the other side of the room. "Lord Hanerim is absent, but his Lady is here- they control great swaths of the West and are very anxious about being included in this new regime. It is in your interest to flatter them, not offend them. They have a great deal of wealth from the wool trade." Moving again, he jerked his head in a small motion towards the back. "Sir Phett is sitting in the distance because he is afraid that you will view him as an enemy, due to his ties from…" He cleared his throat. "From before." From when I was the heir. "But he has a lot of influence within the army. He is best on your side."

Blinking at him slowly, she twisted and leaned in so that they had a measure of privacy. "Why are you helping me?"

She couldn't see his face this way, given that he was speaking directly into her ear, but she could hear his irritation anyway. "I'm not going to be associated with incompetence if you don't know what you're doing. I have to be a part of this reign too." When he leaned back, there was an infuriatingly smug smile playing across his lips. "You need a teacher."

For a moment, she wanted to fling her wine into his face and send all of the food directly to the crowds of Londoners observing the feast from the back. But grudgingly, she had to acknowledge that his words sounded familiar. As he spoke them, there was a ghost of a memory of Lady Leia saying the same things, trying to coach her to remember from a list.

It would make sense that her son would be a statesman too.

Gritting her teeth, she sent the dishes as he directed and listened to his whispered instructions for the rest of the meal.

Some of the tables were cleared away for dancing, basic roundels that could accommodate large groups of people. Before that could begin, though, the Queen would have to open the festivities by dancing first.

Normally, a man would ask a woman. Normally, a King would ask a Queen. There was a tense silence as everyone watched her turn to Ren. His lips thinned slightly, and after she nodded, they both rose at the same time. It was a basic compromise for the time being.

Taking his gloved hand, she walked with him to the centre of the room, beginning to turn and pivot as the minstrels picked up a tune.

This chance to talk was rare- they were never left alone, not that she would want them to be- and she intended to take advantage of it. "Do you care to explain," she said, murmuring it as they passed shoulder to shoulder, "what you did to the crown?"

For once, he sounded confused instead of mocking. "The crown?"

"I felt the darkness warp around it," she said grimly, keeping her eyes trained straight ahead. "I felt its malevolence. I know that malevolence- this was your doing."

His hand tightened almost unbearably on hers. "You. You were the one outside the door." His voice dropped, barely a low growl. "You do not understand what you saw."

"I think I understood very clearly," she said, refusing to be intimidated. "If you try to take the crown through seditious means, Lord Ren, I will have you executed for treason."

There was a hiss of his breath as he exhaled through his teeth. Hand loosening, he completed the last few steps of the dance and quickly stepped away, offering her a half-hearted bow. "Your Grace, unless you plan to arrest me now, I believe I am done making merry. Good evening."

Without even looking back, he turned on his heel and marched away. A few courtiers gaped at him as he left; not only was it tremendously rude for him to show his back, it was hardly the behaviour of a doting husband-to-be.

Odious man. Stupid, frustrating, odious man. This couldn't be allowed to continue.

Nodding discreetly to Finn, she made her excuses and navigated her way through the increasingly drunk crowd as others stood to dance. Leaving the Great Hall, she found him a corridor and a half later, standing at a window with one hand covering his face.

"Lord Ren!" she snapped, wooden soles clacking loudly on the stone as she walked. "I demand an explanation, and I demand it now."

He whipped around, lip curled with disdain. "You foolish girl. Do you think that Snoke, a man gifted enough to manipulate entire oceans, would not leave any safeguards in place for after his death?"

That was not what she expected. "What?"

"That crown," he said, stabbing his finger towards it, "demands a price of any who wear it. Except for Snoke's dedicated heir- which is to say, me."

"But then-"

"The price is blood, your Grace." He yanked one of his gloves off and held his palm out to her, the scar still clear and red against his pale skin. "So I paid it."

The scene took on a whole new meaning, one where the dark had eased with the blood circle because the charm was broken. "But…" In some ways, it made much less sense than his cursing her. "Why?"

For a moment, he just breathed, shoulders rising and falling as he stared at her. "I can't explain it," he said, voice ragged. "No matter what I do, your presence haunts me. I can barely sleep for it. I want…" He lifted his arm slowly, almost as if he wasn't aware of it moving. "I want…"

The second his fingertips made brushing contact with her cheek, her gift flared like a new log hitting a roaring fire. His fingers jerked back like he had touched something hot, his eyes wide as they both let out mirrored sharp gasps.

Stuffing the hand back into his glove, he turned heel again and strode away. This time, though, instead of a furious tantrum, it looked more like a fleeing retreat.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and letting the chill in the air cool her skin. "Finn?"

"My Queen," he responded, stepping out from an alcove where he had remained a discreet distance away.

The headache had reached an unbearable pitch, which basically made her decision. "Please inform Lady Leia that I will be retiring for the evening, and that I need her to take care of the guests." She waited as he nodded and quickly relayed her instructions to a guard standing at the next corner. He then fell into step behind her as she walked, winding her way through the corridors.

Three turned corners and one staircase later, she felt him hesitate. "My Queen," he said slowly. "May I speak freely?"

She stopped and turned to smile at him, suddenly embarrassed by her preoccupied rudeness. He was sincere and simply good, and she found that she liked him better with each passing day. "Please do."

"Before I was Finn," he said, throat working as he looked away and swallowed. "I had a different name. As a part of Snoke's enforcers. I did… Terrible things at his command. Things that I couldn't stomach. Things that Lady Leia helped me escape from." He took a deep breath. "During that time, I answered to Lord Ren. He is… A violent man. An unpredictable man. The children who disappeared from the Tower- that was no doubt at his close involvement, and many others have fallen to his sword. Please. Be careful. Do not drop your guard."

That was forward, probably too forward about his future King. All the same, she appreciated it immensely- in a sea of people desperate to tell her whatever would keep them safest, Finn had taken a risk to tell her what he thought was the truth. "Thank you," she said, taking his hand and giving it a quick squeeze. "I will be vigilant."

As she resumed walking, it was with a sense of unease. Finn was, no doubt, sincere. But she wasn't sure how to reconcile the monster he described with the man who bled for her safety when he could have very easily let her die and taken the crown for himself.

Before she genuinely retired, she indulged in a short visit to the little courtyard garden reserved for her private use. Finn took a post just on the inner side of the doorway, gifting her with a real sense of solitude for the first time in weeks.

She had been delighted to discover the garden's existence. It was rarely used in the last regime but diligently tended to by gardeners nonetheless, the soil rich and well tilled. Filled with fading flowers, the space was deeply calming.

Her gift was still pulsing brightly under her skin. It was strange; normally, it took concerted effort to pull upon that power, to drag it up from its resting place. Now, though, she felt it trembling just inches away from her fingers. Like it was ready to answer her call at the slightest notice.

She wiggled her fingers and one of the wilting blooms in front of her perked up, regaining its fullness and colour as she watched. Twisting her hand, she focused and the entire flower bush rustled to life as new leaves twisted out of stems and crumpled petals regained their lustre. The plant became a vibrant anomaly among its slowly dying counterparts, practically glowing with life.

When she was finished, her arm was shaking. So the work still took its toll, then, it was just now much easier to summon. For… whatever reason.

There was an invisible little tug at the back of her neck and she turned, raising her eyes along the walls. She saw a distant dark form standing at one of the windows; even without being able to make out any of his features, she knew it was Ren.

She couldn't explain how she knew. She just did.

As she watched, he moved away, fading out of sight.

Author's Notes:

Could they be starting to get along? The answer is Yes But Very Slowly.

Witnessing a feast was a genuine thing. Every so often, on designated days, the peasantry could come in and watch (from a distance) the monarch eat with his court. No TV, I guess.

I skipped a bunch of stuff in medieval coronations because I didn't really feel like muddling through explaining their weird preferences for heavily symbolic short performances and heraldry. Largely because they're so tangled up in Biblical and medieval imagery that, ugh, headache to interpret and understand. Tldr; too lazy to even dedicate myself to what I know to be accurate, let alone check stuff I don't know. You're all welcome.