Rey took a quick tour of the camp in the crisp early morning as everyone was waking, stretching out her limbs and nodding to soldiers as they crawled out of their tents.
No apples out of season. No strange flowers. No signs of an early and unaccountable spring. All of the local flora appeared to be as it had been when they arrived— with some satisfaction, she surveyed the scene with her hands on her hips, relieved that they seemed to have started to figure out a solution to that particular problem.
Now, they just had to do it again when she hadn't recently exhausted her gift. Not that she minded practicing, she thought, casting her mind back to the night before, cheeks warming a little at the thought. The nuns really didn't know what they were missing.
Although, she had to admit that the experience didn't seem to be universally pleasant for her sex. Perhaps she was lucky in that regard.
Lost in her thoughts, she walked back to the main campfire, where she found Finn perched on a log and biting into some dried meat. Hands behind her back, she gave him her broadest grin. "Ready to have a real roof over your head, Captain?"
"Your Grace!" He hopped from his perch and sank into a kneel, which she quickly waved him up from. "We're all very relieved to see you looking so well."
"I never thanked you," Rey said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "for coming to our aid that night."
"I didn't do much, your Grace." He looked vaguely ashamed at the words.
"Even so, it's reassuring to know that you are always on call." She leaned forward and pulled him into a friendly hug, enjoying the way that he made a little pleased noise of surprise before he lightly patted on her on the back.
TRAITOR.
The word flashed across her mind with such venom that she almost leapt back in panic. Finn sensed her stiffening and immediately drew away. "Did I—"
"No- no," Rey assured him, blinking quickly, trying to make sense of what had just happened. "Nothing to do with you, Captain. Don't worry yourself."
Mostly to avoid the sudden awkwardness, she wandered over to her steed and began to set up her tack and saddle, trying to process what had just happened. The thought had been so sharp, so visceral. She had absolutely no reason to think of Finn as a traitor— was it some sort of intuition, a warning? Her gift had never expressed itself that way before. There should be no one in their camp who would think of Finn as—
Oh. Of course.
It was so obvious that she pressed her forehead against the steady flank of her horse and groaned. Of course, there was one person who would think of Finn that way. A person who was spending a rather a lot of time mixing his own thoughts with her own as of late. A person who apparently could now inject his commentary into her head; she couldn't exactly pinpoint when that had started happening, which was slightly worrying.
She had to crane her head around for a while before she spotted him, looming ominously as attendants packed their tent. Even when she sent out a little nudge with her gift, Ren refused to look her way, staunchly keeping his glower on the people scurrying around him with his arms resolutely crossed.
She couldn't understand it, but if he wanted to be childish, she supposed she couldn't stop him. Good mood slightly ruined, she climbed up onto her horse to supervise the preparations to depart.
Against the green and rolling landscape, Lady Kanata's manor stood proud and strong, rising from the ground in an intimidating dark jut of corners and angles. As they approached, Rey began to be able to make out the windows in the brick, glinting in the sunlight.
A little closer still, she was able to see that the gate was open. No doubt they had heard the approach of the horses' hooves. It would have been audible for miles, thunderous clamour against the silence of the countryside.
As they rode into the courtyard, she saw that the household had assembled in front of the manor doors. At the head of the group stood a woman— possibly the smallest woman that Rey had ever seen. She barely reached the chests of those around her.
Rey nimbly dismounted, and as she did so, the entire party sank into deep curtsies and bows.
The tiny woman shuffled forward. "Your Grace," she said, "welcome to my home."
"Lady Kanata." Rey gestured for everyone to rise, and there was a brief scuffle while everyone got to their feet, some of the older members of the crowd taking a moment to regain their balance. "We are grateful that you have granted us the opportunity to enjoy your hospitality." The words, formal and stilted, didn't come easily. Two years of Luke's coaching had trained her for this in theory, but it was still a struggle after months to not panic in the face of another person so graceful and dignified.
"Please, come inside," Lady Kanata gestured, moving her hand in a slow arc.
Rey was about to step forward when she heard Ren's voice call out from behind her. "I will oversee the soldier's encampment."
With no way of knowing whether or not it was rude for him to depart so soon, she gave him a quick wave. Perhaps the time alone would see him in better spirits.
Lady Kanata led the way as the scuffle of unpacking began, looking up with a wrinkled smile. "I have arranged for you to have the solar, your Grace. Would you take something to eat?"
Food was always good news. "That would be very kind."
They trooped through the hallways, the tiny old woman in the lead, with Rey and her ladies following behind. As she passed a few servants, Rey regretfully realized that she would have to go back to wearing gowns while she was here— without the excuse of long-distance riding, it would be hard to justify the trousers.
The great hall was spacious with an interlocking wood roof, a roaring fire crackling in the grate on one side. Lady Kanata promptly led them to the head table, where some food had already been laid out in preparation: cheeses and manchet breads, oysters and salmon, along with what appeared to be cuttings of rabbit. Lady Kanata clearly kept a well-stocked larder.
Rey took the head seat with only a moment's hesitation, smiling as a steward stepped forward to fill her cup with wine. "This is very generous."
"Only your due," Lady Kanata replied. "We are all grateful to see the end of the wars."
With a twist of her hand, Rey invited her ladies to join her, and they settled with some clucking to enjoy their spoils. Rey was in the middle of quizzing Lady Kanata about crop yields in the area when there was a creak of hinges and all of her ladies' chatter dried up into a conspicuous silence.
There was a woman standing in the doorway, with a pale face and hair confined under a fine gold netting. The fabric of her gown was clearly expensive and adhered tightly to the lines of a slender waist, with a cut against the chest that was scandalously low. Dainty shoes peeked out from a sweeping hem, which was somehow still fairly clean even though it brushed the ground.
"Ah, yes," Lady Kanata said, with an almost indiscernible tightening of her lips. "Your Grace, may I present Lady Netal, come to stay with me as a guest while her husband copes with rebels in the North."
Lady Netal stepped forward, her gait even and graceful, until she sank into a curtsey that was just a fraction too high. Rey was suddenly uncomfortably aware of her dirty face and rumpled hair, her clothes entirely inappropriate for her rank and sex, the fact that they were stained with sweat and mud and God only knew what else from days of riding.
His discomfort was compounded by the fact that something about this woman was clearly upsetting her ladies, each face either set in disapproval or dismay. Rey's stomach tightened at the visceral reminder of her not knowing, of not having the background that these people all shared, of her status as an outsider.
Clearing her throat, she tried to keep her face and voice calm. "You may rise, Lady Netal. I hope we will not interrupt your stay here."
"Oh no," Lady Netal said evenly, her voice surprisingly musical for its low timbre. When she stood straight and so close, Rey could see that she was quite a tall woman, imposing in her stature. "I was very pleased to hear of your intended visit, your Grace. Very pleased indeed."
The rest of the afternoon passed without a chance for Rey to ask about Lady Netal's background, given the way that the woman in question stuck closely to her retinue like a burr in Rey's side. It needn't have been suspicious, as Lady Kanata did the same; but the bristling hostility in the room did nothing to ease Rey's nerves. Lady Netal seemed to be waiting for someone, and with a sinking feeling, Rey felt that she knew just who that someone was.
A little bristled by the woman's beauty, Rey had Jessika wipe her down top to bottom behind a screen as her ladies sewed and tittered. With a harpist strumming in the background, she enjoyed the feeling of the cloth against her skin, warm and comforting in front of the fire keeping her warm. That finished, she called for a gown that she hadn't bothered to even pull out since they left, a kirtle trimmed in cloth of gold, the hem lined with fine and soft fur. If Jessika thought anything of this, she didn't voice it out loud. Rey did note that especial care was given to her hair, the braids knotted and looped with unusual intricacy.
Back in the great hall for dinner, Rey saw her suspicions confirmed. The men trooped in to eat, and Ren broke away to move to the head table; three steps in, he noticed the new addition to their party.
To anyone else, Ren's face as he spotted Lady Netal would have looked quite blank and expressionless. For a man prone to bouts of rage, he was remarkably unreadable until he snapped, a firm mask of impassivity in place. Lady Netal appeared equally unmoved.
Rey, though, felt the emotion through her gift. It rippled through him in quick succession: recognition, shock, curiosity. He didn't seem displeased, which only made her bad mood twist further.
As he reached the table, he took in Rey's finery. "You look very nice."
"Thank you," Rey replied stiffly, sitting so that everyone else could sit as well. The food was brought forth and noise filled the hall, happy soldiers digging into a solid meal and joking raucously over cups of mead.
Ren tried to engage her throughout the meal— or, at the very least, as much as he ever did, occasionally dropping an observation or asking if she was enjoying the food— but she found it hard to reciprocate. Every time the conversation would lull, his gaze would drift back to Lady Netal. It was obvious, to the degree where she could sense Jessika's ire on her behalf, which only made Rey feel more humiliated and uncomfortable. She barely made it a half hour before she rose, the entire hall quickly scrabbling to its feet to prevent sitting in her presence.
Ignoring his confused look, she cast her glance over the room. "I find I am tired after my journey, so I am retiring early. Please, stay and enjoy Lady Kanata's gracious hospitality, for which we are very grateful." One polite nod to Lady Kanata was enough to make the majority of the crowd relax.
A flurry of glaring ladies in tow, she then left the hall.
The solar seemed a mile away, especially with the painful sympathy radiating off of her ladies. By the time she reached the room, she was almost seeing red, and it took all of her self-control to calmly ask to be left alone.
"But my lady," Jessika said softly, "your gown?"
"I can manage it myself."
"But—"
"Go," Rey said, and something about her tone made them all immediately withdraw.
Once alone, she had to resist the urge to pick up the pewter drinking jug and fling it against the wall. But that was what Ren would have done; almost out of spite for that, she resisted. Striding to the window, she looked out over the countryside, bracing her arms on the stonework. It was damp to her touch as her fingers curled against the rough surface. If she simply stomped on the feelings hard enough, surely they would go away. They always had before.
She had been so determined to try and make this union work that she hadn't even considered the risks of investing herself. For him to be irritating and reckless was one thing, but unfaithful? Men usually were, but she hadn't even considered it. Foolish, foolish, foolish—
The door to her room creaked open.
Even without looking, she could tell who it was. "I asked for privacy," she gritted out.
"I know," Ren answered. "Your ladies told me."
Turning around, she gave him her most venomous glare. It was gratifying to see him stop in his tracks.
He raised his hands slowly. "I came to see what's upsetting you. It's hard to relax when I can feel it."
"Pardon me for destroying your peace."
"God's teeth," he said, irritation creeping into his voice. "What's the issue?"
"Isn't it obvious?" She turned back to the window. "You can barely keep your eyes off her, the whole room could see it."
"What… Oh. Oh. Bazine?"
That didn't even seem worth gracing with a response.
"Rey," he said gently, "you can read my feelings."
"Oh, so you're aware of that, are you? But you didn't think it important to mention? The shock you gave me with the Captain this morning was highly unwelcome."
Now it was his turn to stiffen. "You're the Queen. It's inappropriate for him to touch you."
"But not inappropriate for you to—"
"Rey." It was said with force this time, nearly a bark. He closed the rest of the distance between them and gripped her arm so tightly that it almost hurt. "Read my feelings."
She wanted to say no, just because she could. But the sensible part of her mind prodded at her ceaselessly, so with perhaps a slight bit more force than necessary, she dug in with her gift. Ignoring him as he winced, she rifled around until she found the appropriate memory of the feast—
concern, deep concern and unease— Why is she here— unease and distrust and an anger, festering, always there, he is always angry, and he controls it because he must— She worked for Snoke why is she here— curiosity that has a harsh edge because he hates not knowing— Is she truly here for asylum or is there something underhanded at play— Of course there is there always is with Bazine— irritation creeps in his mind and oh for God's sake what's upset Rey now—
Rey snapped out of the memory, jolted by the reference to herself.
"See?" Ren finally let go of her arm. "I wasn't thinking about bedding her."
Putting a hand to her eyes, Rey hunched over slightly, the sting of everyone's pity still burning. "But you did, before. Bed her."
"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "She was one of the few approved to be in Snoke's inner circle and, well." He shrugged. "A man has needs."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Did you want a detailed history?" His tone turned vaguely disdainful. "Very well, the first was a whore in the Southwark stews when I was barely sixteen years—"
"Silence!" she snapped, raising a finger to point sharply at his nose. "Do you expect me to get pleasure out of being the only one in the room not knowing, with every single onlooker pitying me for your presumed infidelity?"
He fell silent at that.
"Leave," she commanded, turning back to the window.
Rather than leaving, though, he simply stood, hovering behind her shoulder. "I… Have a history," he finally said slowly. "I can't make it disappear. But I don't…" When she spared him a glance, she found that he looked exquisitely uncomfortable, like he was struggling with his words. "I don't want to shame you. I can't help what other people think."
It was infuriatingly sensible, and she relaxed a fraction almost against her will. "The surprise was unwelcome, that's all."
"Almost as unwelcome as the surprise of an army deposing you and your disgraced Mother announcing that you're to marry their leader?"
Her anger mounted and she turned to snap at him again, but it died in her throat when she saw that he was actually smiling a little, as if this was his incredibly poorly formed attempt at a truce. The smile widened when he saw her hesitate. Infuriating man. She scoffed at him a little, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're terrible at this, did you know that?"
"I've been told, yes."
"Are there any other recent mistresses that I should know of?"
He snorted. "I don't think you're aware of how tightly Snoke controlled my movements, towards the end. No, no one else, not for the last…" He had to tip his head back and think about it. "At least a few years."
It would have to do. She narrowed her eyes at him. "And none going forward."
"I wouldn't dare."
"No, you wouldn't," she muttered darkly, shifting back to the window.
A hand settled on the back of her neck, his thumb pressing against the stiff muscles and rubbing in small circles that eased the tension. "We could just have her sent away?"
"I'll think on it tomorrow. Now," she said, turning her head so she could see him out of the corner of her eye, "are you going to help me out of this gown or do I need to call my ladies back?"
Even if she couldn't see the smile, she felt the surge of good humour as his hands moved to her laces.
Author's Notes:
Manchet bread was the best quality bread made in Medieval England. The wheat was sieved through a cloth, so it was very fine and created a fluffier loaf. Only for the rich, obviously. Everyone else mostly ate stuff made with Rye, and it was much grittier.
Speaking of food! I had Rey eating some apples earlier, and it's worth noting that this makes her pretty unusual for nobility. There was a deep suspicion of all "raw" or unprepared food, so most fruits and vegetables were only eaten if stewed. In general, actually, the wealthy had a diet pretty scarce of fruit and veg. But Rey's been poor, and she eats anything. She's quite a bit healthier for it too, so I've envisioned her as being a bit taller than most of her peers. Ironic.
Lady Kanata is a widow. It was the most straightforward way to end up running things as a woman at the time.