Travelling at the back of a procession was a nightmare. The pace was grinding, hampered by those on foot and the slow drag of wagons, always necessary for carrying supplies. The number of horses up ahead meant that you had to watch your feet carefully, lest you misstep and end up ankle deep in horse shit.

The front of the procession, though. The front was glorious.

Rey would periodically spur her horse into a gallop, sprinting ahead just because she could. After the months of decorum in London, it felt deliriously good to be back in trousers, riding freely without a net over her braids. Cheeks flushed from the crisp air, she would then turn and canter back to the group, to where Ren was riding his own massive black charger.

"I still have reservations about your attire," he called out, the fourth or fifth time that she repeated this.

"I know," she replied cheerfully. She'd seen his expression when she came out to ride, on the very first morning that they left London to confront the unrest bubbling in the North. "I refuse to ride in a dress. Too uncomfortable."

His brow furrowed. "I remain a little put off by the idea of the entire country ogling my wife's buttocks."

"Yes, well," she said, "They're all ogling yours, and you don't see me complaining."

There was a beat of silence. Then, to her shock, he threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter. It was the first time she'd ever heard such a thing from him, and judging by the stunned faces of their immediate retinue, she wasn't the only one. It was a rich and deep sound, and she immediately wanted to hear it again.

"Touché," he murmured, once she was riding beside him again. "I suppose you'll also be pleased that we're making camp for the next few nights rather than staying in a proper manor, hellion that you are."

She was pleased. The manors were small enough that she usually had to sleep in a room cramped with her few female attendants brave enough to come along and a handful of guards on bedrolls on the floor. As much as it made her flush to even think it, she missed his nighttime company. "It will be good to not cause any inconvenience for once."

"You're the Queen. It's your prerogative to cause inconvenience."

It was such a… Ren way to think. Rolling her eyes, she stood in her stirrups and prepared to gallop forward again.

It was as nice as she'd hoped to be alone with him again. Given her status, a proper tent was erected with a canopy and carpets unrolled over the ground; it was a far cry from the tiny thing that she'd crawled under when travelling with Luke.

They even had a roughly constructed bed that someone had gone to the trouble of packing and carrying. She probably should've been annoyed at the waste, but instead she was just glad that she didn't have to sleep on the ground.

She pushed herself against Ren's side once they were both under the covers, nuzzling her nose to his shoulder. The two weeks of travelling had given them a lot of time to talk during the day, and everyone had learned to follow at a respectful short distance to give them a little privacy. Even if they didn't speak of anything of great importance- he shared his knowledge about the localities they passed through, giving her little snippets of information about his childhood, and she spoke in bits of her time at the nunnery- it meant that the evenings were much less awkward. If nothing else, they were no longer strangers.

"Wife," he said, with the smallest hint of a smile that she was learning to detect in his voice even when he was stern. "Is that an invitation?"

"I am cold; you're warm," she murmured.

Reaching to her shoulders, he tugged her shift down her arms, leaning up over top of her. She sighed happily as she felt his hands move to slide up her thighs, his lips pressing to the swell of her breasts. "I suppose I could warm you up."

Yes, his company was nice. Very nice. She had missed this more than she cared to admit, and falling asleep afterwards, sated and worn out with his scent around her, was strangely comforting.

Morning came too soon, light filtering through the cracks in the tent. After the guilty pleasure of simply dressing herself in a tunic and trousers, she left to find breakfast.

"Good morning, your Grace," one of the men called out. He was chewing happily on an apple, and she frowned at it as she passed. Where had he found such fruit out of season?

He wasn't the only one. Practically everyone seemed to have an apple in hand. A few were roasting them over the fire. Eyebrows rising higher and higher, she went to Finn, who already had two apple cores littered at his feet. "Captain, where did the fruit come from?"

"Strangest thing," he said, chewing with his mouth open. "All of the apple trees in the forest bore fruit overnight. No one can explain it, but we're enjoying it nonetheless. They're delicious." Leaning over, he reached into a bag and pulled out another one, holding it out to her.

She accepted it with a sigh, trying not to blush too hard from the knowledge that she could explain this, after a fashion. When she bit into the apple, the juice filled her mouth, the sweetest thing she had tasted in weeks.

The day's riding took them through a small village. The people came out to watch them pass, women and children waving shyly. An alderman stood at the gate to greet them with a deep bow, his robes a bit tattered but nicer than anything that the other villagers had nonetheless. It was clearly a position of pride.

Rey dismounted to greet him properly, accepting his kneeling. "You may rise."

"My Queen," he said, "it is an honour to have you pass through these parts. We have been ravaged by war and we long for peace and prosperity."

"I aim to provide it," Rey said, smiling at him.

"The justices of the peace have not been through here in a while because of the unrest, and we have the issue of individuals awaiting judgement. I realize it is far beneath you, but we are struggling with the cost of imprisoning them while they await trial. Would you be willing to resolve the issue?"

She glanced back at Ren a bit nervously. This was not something that she had addressed before, and her knowledge of local laws and customs were… Rather incomplete.

Ren nodded from his horse. "Her Grace would be happy to address it."

Leaving most of the procession outside the gates, she went through with Ren and a small group of their retinue to the clearing at the centre of the village. The prisoners were fetched; it turned out that there were only two of them, an old woman and a middle-aged man.

Rey tried to draw herself to her most stately height. "Their crimes?"

The alderman cleared his throat. "The woman confessed to cheating her buyers by lacing the flour of her bread with sawdust. The man was caught poaching on land that is not his own, and killed at least three deer."

"Right." Rey rubbed her hands together a bit anxiously. "What is the common punishment for these crimes?"

"The cheating is usually levied a fine. She cannot pay, so it will mean indentured work until it can be paid off."

That seemed to be fairly reasonable, in the grand scheme of things. Nodding, she squared her shoulders. "Her name?"

"Jenet Karr."

"Jenet Karr," Rey repeated, "by the power vested in me by God as your Queen and based on your confession, you are sentenced to pay a fine to atone for your crimes." She turned to the alderman. "How much is the fine?"

"Nine shillings."

That was a lot of money, far more than the average person could ever hope to make even if family pitched in. Clearing her throat, she turned back to the woman. "You are sentenced to pay four shillings and sixpence- I have halved the fine as a show of mercy, and in confidence that you will not repeat your crime."

The crowd seemed pleased by this. The old woman blubbered for a while before being led away, where she was immediately clutched at by a few smaller children.

Rey turned to the man. "The punishment for poaching?"

"Execution, your Grace."

Her blood stilled in her veins. "What?"

"It is his third offence, and the evidence was indisputable. The law is clear."

"Please," the man said, addressing Rey directly, his voice ragged. "Your Grace, please. We were starving. I was only doing it to feed my children."

Feeling a little bit of panic well up, Rey looked around. The mood of the villagers was unsympathetic; clearly, they had all been hungry and not all of them had resorted to poaching.

She didn't want to execute this man. She understood hunger and how it warped the mind. But she couldn't simply pardon him- she was too new into her reign to leave a trail of discontent in her wake. The panic was starting to bubble in her throat, making her silent as she looked back and forth between the alderman and the prisoner, trapped in place by indecision.

There was a shuffle and she heard Ren dismount from his horse, walking to stand beside her. "Hold him," he gestured to a few of the guards, who promptly took the man and held his arms out.

"Wha-" Rey barely managed before Ren drew his sword in a smooth movement, lifted it over his head, and brought it down over the man's wrist. In a nauseating crunch of bone and flesh, the hand tore away, moments before the man began to scream hysterically.

Sickened, Rey gaped, staring at the hand that now lay on the ground. It was seeping blood into the mud, the dirty nails sinking into the soft ground.

Ren sheathed his sword calmly and nodded towards the guards. "The crime is punished. Take him away."

"You monster," the man screamed, his shrieking suddenly forming into nearly incoherent words. "You monster- you child killer, everyone knows it, child killer child killer-"

The rest of the sounds were muffled when one of the guards clapped a glove over the man's mouth, briskly dragging him away in jerks towards one of the alleys. To be delivered to his family, no doubt.

When Ren turned to her, his face was stony. "I suggest we move on."

Shaking a little, her outrage at his nonchalance finally helped her find her tongue. "How dare you do that without my approval-"

His eyes flicked to glance at the watching villagers. They were all clearly eager to see the famous Kylo Ren being berated by his wife. "It was that or execution."

"There had to be another way-"

Narrowing his eyes, he spat out the words. "In order to rule, sometimes you must do distasteful things."

Silenced by the bluntness of his words, she stared after him as he walked back to his horse, swinging up into the saddle and spurring it back towards the rest of their party.

Much later in the day, when the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, her curiosity finally couldn't be restrained. He had been riding alone a little further ahead and she cantered up to meet him, slowing when they were side by side. "Why do they say that of you?"

He kept his gaze trained firmly ahead. "Say what?"

"Child-killer."

She saw a muscle in his jaw working and his nostrils flared a touch. "They believe I killed the Princes that Snoke kept under his protection."

"Did you?"

He gave her a glance filled with disdain. "Don't be absurd."

It was a blessed relief to reach camp, to be able to rest on something moderately comfortable. Her short time at court had softened her; a few days of hard riding should not have been this difficult. And yet, her back still ached, and she sighed with happiness when Jessika helped her apply a hot poultice.

When it came time to sleep, she stayed on her side of the bed, still a little chilled by the events of the day. Before long, she felt his hand trace the small of her back, leaving a little trail of warmth through her shift. "I don't know if that's a good idea," she said into the darkness. "If I make any more fruit blossom out of season, the locals will burn me for a witch."

He snorted. "I'd like to see them try."

"Truly, though." It was bothering her enough that she was able to look past her conflicted feelings about the afternoon. "Is that going to happen every time?"

"I suspect not," he said. "Not if we can find a balance."

She couldn't see his expression in the dark, so she wasn't sure what to make of that. "A balance?"

He was silent for a long moment, thoughtful. Finally, he shifted up to sit, beckoning her to rise as well. "Follow me."

Lighting a small lantern, he passed over her thick fur-lined cloak. Pulling it tightly around her shoulders, she let him take her hand and lead her out of the tent.

"Your Grace?" Finn's voice came out of the darkness, alert and concerned. She couldn't ask for a more attentive Captain, and she felt a swell of affection for him.

Ren, however, just sounded annoyed. "Stand down," he snapped. "Just going for a short walk, we won't be out of view of the camp."

There was a tense silence and she could see Finn's face, flickering in the firelight, slide into a frown. "I don't know if that-"

"I am your Prince," Ren said, now almost a snarl. "Stand down."

Reluctantly, Finn stepped back, and Ren started moving away towards the edge of the camp. Rey had half a mind to tell Ren off for being rude, if it weren't for the fact that it would almost definitely have no effect whatsoever. The thought made her sigh.

When they reached the boundary, he took a few more steps until they were engulfed in the wood. "Here," he said, gesturing forward. "See this?"

"A tree," she said, gazing up at the dark boughs. The moon was bright enough that little bits of light flickered through the branches, silver against the ground.

"An apple tree," he corrected. "Hold your hand against the trunk."

She did as he bade, curious.

"Now, let your gift flow through it."

She concentrated, feeling her connection with the ground, the rustle of the leaves below. Drawing it up slowly, carefully, until he reached forward and took her hand. In a burst of strength, the tree suddenly crackled to life, new leaves spiralling out as full and solid apples grew at an impossible speed.

She stepped back to look up at her work. "Is this what you wanted to show me? I already knew about-"

"No," he said, passing her the lamp. "Now watch."

Alone, he stepped forward, and pressed his palm to the tree as she had done.

The effect was instantaneous. She felt the warp of power and the leaves immediately began to shrivel and die; as she watched, the apples withered until they rotted and dropped. She had to step back to avoid being hit by them as they fell.

"What…" she said, bewildered. "What did you do?"

Gingerly flexing his fingers, he craned his neck up to look at the canopy of the forest. "I used my gift."

"Did Snoke teach you that?" It seemed strange that someone would desire this, this ability to leech the life from something.

"Did Luke teach you yours?"

"Well…" He hadn't, not really. Rey's patch of garden at the nunnery had always flourished even in times of drought, the patients that she watched always healing a little better, a little faster. That was long before she was aware of her gift. "No. I was as I am, and he taught me to control it."

She could see his outline nod. "And so it was for me. Snoke merely taught me how to aim it accurately, how to direct it where I wanted and keep it from harming those that I didn't want to harm."

The implication that he could've hurt people accidentally made her feel a twinge of pity. "So when you said- balance…"

"I suspect," he said quietly, "that if we can figure out how to share these two forces, we can…" She could've sworn that he smiled a little. "Consort without causing quite so much disruption to the local wildlife."

"And how would that work?"

"We'll have to find out." Taking her hand gently, he led her back to the camp.

As they walked, she couldn't help but wonder about the applications for his gift. The way that Snoke had no doubt used and abused it. The way that it matched up with the whispers and stories that she kept hearing, ones that contradicted the gentle way he held her. And yet, and yet…

In order to rule, sometimes you must do distasteful things.

When they reached the tent, she waved him ahead. "I'll be right in. I just want to confirm something with the Captain for tomorrow's plans." Alone, she went to the fire and found Finn, perched and alert like he always was. She genuinely wasn't sure when he slept. "Finn, may I have a word?"

"Your Grace," he said immediately, jumping to attention and following her to a short distance away from the rest of the men.

"Do you have a way to get in contact with Dameron?" She glanced around a bit furtively. "I trust you implicitly, and I'm not sure how many others I can vouch for."

For some reason, he seemed to be flustered by her question. His gaze immediately dropped to her feet, and if she hadn't been so hampered by the dark, she could've sworn that he was blushing. "I, uh- yes, I… I think I could find a way to reach him. Uh. With relative speed."

"Then I need you to pass on this message," she said, leaning in towards him. "Tell him that I want the issue of the Princes investigated, and that he's to leave no stone unturned. I will pay all of his expenses."

"Your Grace," Finn said hesitantly, "forgive me if I speak out of turn-"

She held up a hand. "I always want to hear what you have to say, Captain. Remember?"

He gave her a small smile. "I only want to remind you that others before you have searched for answers for that question, to no avail."

"Then tell him that I have faith in him." Drawing her cloak closer, she turned to go back to her tent. "And that I would know the truth."

Author's Notes:

Yeeeeaaah StormPilot if you squint, like, super hard! Cuties.

For money: around the 14th-15th century, it cost something in the range of 5 shillings a year to rent a cottage, so a fine of 9 shillings is a LOT, to put it in context. Hand-chopping was also a genuine punishment, sigh.

Oh, and monarchical visits were a massive fucking nightmare for the nobility, because they'd bring loads of people and you'd have to feed and house them all and get nothing in return. Monarchs loved it, of course, because they weren't paying to feed and house all those people. People used to be terrified of visits from Elizabeth I because she'd occasionally stick around so long that families went bankrupt. Yikes.

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