Chapter Text
Rey stood patiently while Sabe adjusted her diadem. It could very well be the old handmaiden’s last Empire Day, so Rey had thrown out the rest of her attendants when it came time to put the finishing touches on her regalia. That was what she’d told them, anyway, that it was her way of honoring the woman’s lifetime of service.
It was also the last time that Rey would be able to speak to the woman who had helped raise her.
Thus the last of Lady Vader’s attendants was the one to place ruby pins in the elaborate coils of Rey’s hair, to line her lips with blood-red paint and trace the House Palpatine glyphs on her breastbone, just above her heart. And, of course, to set her crown.
The old woman smiled proudly as she angled the delicate gold band just so, her touch practiced and perfect despite the grey blur of her vision.
“You’re a vision, my Lady,” she whispered, her voice soft with age. Her hand squeezed Rey’s shoulder, the touch as light as air. “He’s going to be very pleased.”
Rey shuddered. Her hazel eyes flicked around the airy dressing room. Finding nothing, she reached out with the Force for good measure, carefully dampening her power, lest she draw attention. Still nothing. She breathed a silent thank you to her grandfather for ensuring her privacy.
She took comfort in the fact that the Emperor was not terribly pleased about this situation either. Not that he’d admit it to anyone save her. No…they both knew that it was necessary. Distasteful – Rey would say repulsive – but necessary.
“I don’t want him to be pleased,” she whispered, avoiding Sabe's gaze to spare her the sight of the sickly gold gleam in her eyes.
I want to rip his heart out.
Sabe winced, a thread of pain flickering across her face. She lowered her voice.
“You’re not the only one,” she said, barely audible. Rey looked up with that and gave a nervous giggle. “I’m old, so I’m entitled to my eccentricities,” the woman continued. Her voice quivered with years of well-hidden anger. “And I say this; his grandmother would be ashamed.” Rey’s eyes widened.
“Sabe, she whispered, suddenly fighting back tears. The handmaiden snatched up a square of linen and held it underneath Rey’s eyes. “Sorry…my makeup…” Rey stared off somewhere beyond Sabe’s concerned face.
A hideous thought crept in. That it might not be so bad if she didn’t know anything different. If she could truly separate her feelings from what needed to be done. If she could strip away everything important from what she was going to have to do tonight. To Kylo fucking Ren.
Maybe it wouldn’t feel like betrayal.
“Never mind that, little tooke,” Sabe whispered. “It’s your wedding day. You’re allowed to cry.”
“Maidens cry,” Rey bit out. “Weak little girls cry. Sith…Sith don’t…” It was suddenly much, much harder to hold back her tears. This will make me stronger, she told herself. “Through passion, I gain strength,” she whispered. The passion of rage. Of hatred.
Pain flickered across Sabe’s face.
“I wish it was not so,” she said, lifting her eyes to Rey’s. She saw the harsh flare of eldritch gold, and did not flinch. “You deserve happiness.”
Rey’s gaze flickered. She nodded.
“Yes,” she said, and remembered Grandfather’s words. That there was power in what she was about to do. Rey knew that she had likely imagined the pulse of regret in his presence. Power was everything to a Sith. And if binding herself to the grandson of Darth Vader would cement the power of her position, would ensure that her lineage would dominate the Galaxy until the end of time…Well, she should take it.
Should, Rey thought.
Make him yours, the Emperor had said. She heard the rest, the unspoken command. Make him your puppet.
Rey would argue that there were other ways to do that…but they needed to preserve the appearance of civilization. They needed to bind the Skywalker line to theirs forever. So she’d accepted Kylo’s proposal, and the Galaxy had rejoiced. And everything was perfect.
“Arranged marriages are a Naboo tradition,” Rey said softly. She looked at the handmaiden, her words firm, closing all further discussion. It would just make it hurt more. “It is my duty.” She pushed back a harsh, naive thought: I’m a Princess! I’m a Sith! I can do whatever the fuck I want!
At least Grandfather understood.
Sabe nodded sadly, and moved to fix her makeup.
***
Two hours later Rey was clutching her father’s arm and trying not to be sick. She thanked the Force for the heavy veil as they sped through the streets of Theed on a ray shielded anti-grav float, decked out in the House Palpatine colors and regalia. A few dozen courtiers and lesser relations accompanied them. His Majesty, of course, was waiting at the Temple in the center of the city. Rey kept her eyes straight ahead, pointedly not looking at Lord Vader’s procession. The Dark Lord himself was in the Temple attending the Emperor, but his heirs rode a float alongside the Palpatines. It was far simpler, of course. Lord Vader owed his standing in the Empire to the Force, and to his military accomplishments.
His accomplishments. Not her future husband’s. Rey’s eyes flickered gold. Even Vader’s son had more success on the battlefield than Kylo Ren. Just as Fi -- No…
Rey pushed that thought down deep. But she couldn’t stop her eyes from flicking over to Kylo Ren, front and center on his family’s float. Not for the first time she wondered if she could come to respect him. To muster up some semblance of attraction to him… Her lips pursed into a thin line.
Not likely.
Unfortunately, Kylo noticed her looking and turned to face her. He grinned widely, a dark light in his eyes that made her stomach churn.
Make him yours, she thought. Make him yours…But all that she could think about was what he’d said to her in the training hall the day that their engagement was announced. She’d beaten him, again. The second she’d turned her back he’d thrown a handful of dust in her face and kicked her legs out from under her. She’d been on the ground and under him before she knew it. She was thrown so thoroughly off-guard that he even managed to pin her wrists and legs using nothing but brute strength. Her cheeks still burned with shame. She should have been more alert…
He kissed her. She’d stretched up to bite him when his hand closed around her breast, and he’d let her up with a laugh.
“You need to get used to being on your back, Princess.”
Rey’s skin crawled. She wished, for the hundredth time, that Vader’s son had managed to reproduce. Then she’d at least have an alternative.
Rey glared back at Kylo until he looked away, still wearing that disgusting smirk. She latched onto the anger brewing inside her.
I need to be strong.
***
The two families entered the Temple plaza together, Rey on her father’s arm, and Kylo in between his parents. She nearly smirked, seeing that. Kylo’s rocky relationship with his father was well known. Rey actually didn’t mind the old smuggler…He was a little rough around the edges, of course, but there was a streak of honesty and courage in him that she appreciated. Unlike his son.
Silence fell as Rey and Kylo were led up the ancient stone steps. She gathered the Force around her like armor as the massive Temple door opened with a groan. Predictably, Kylo started probing at her shields as soon as she caught sight of Grandfather standing beside the alter. He was in full Sith regalia, blood red and black glyphs skillfully intertwined with gold symbols of House Palpatine. His presence was all but locked off, a grey, neutral wall. That hurt more than she’d thought it would. She’d hoped he would be angry, worried, regretful, anything…
But then again, Lord Vader was standing on the other side of the alter. He could just be being polite.
The illusion of civility, again… But just because the Master respected the Apprentice didn’t mean that he had to give the latter’s…issue the same consideration. Rey’s jaw clenched, the thought that she shouldn’t have to do this raging around in her head.
The anger grew stronger as she placed her hand on Kylo’s arm. Satisfaction seeped into the Force like raw sewage on a hot day. Alien anticipation curled around the edges of her mind, trying to scrape through her shields and fill her with images of domination and pain. She resisted the urge to lash out, to show him just what happens to men who hurt Palpatines. But she filled her spine with steel, and let him lead her to the alter.
They bowed as one when they reached the alter, so low that Rey’s veil dusted the floor. After a moment, the Emperor gestured. They straightened and faced each other. Rey couldn’t help but look over at her Grandfather’s face. It was all but hidden by a heavy hood, but the harsh, eldritch glow of his eyes was all too obvious. Rey shivered, despite herself. Darth Sidious wore power the way that most people wore their skin. It was a part of him, wound into the very fabric of his being, and honed by a century of conflict. He stepped forward and faced them.
“Kylo Ren, son of Leia Skywalker Organa Solo…We have gathered here today to join your life to that of Rey Palpatine.” His voice carried into the darkest corners of the Temple. “In accordance with the Way of the Sith…Do you contest this joining?” Kylo’s smile was barely on the right side of insolence.
“I do not, My Lord…Your granddaughter pleases me greatly.” His smile widened. The Emperor stared at him for a long moment, then turned to Rey.
“Rey Palpatine, daughter of Arten Palpatine, the Heir Apparent of the First Galactic Empire…Do you contest this joining?”
Rey searched for a message in his voice. She found nothing.
“I do not, My Lord,” she said, and fell silent. He nodded slowly, and raised his arms to the gathered crowd. His voice reverberated in the cavernous vault, almost as if it was part of the earth itself.
“Then let us begin.”
***
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