Chapter Text
When something terrible is happening, there is a moment when you wake up in the morning and have to remember: Oh god. That thing is really happening to me. It is an alarm like cold water to the face, kicking you out of bed with a swift bonk to the ass. All your pleasant dreaming about another world meant nothing: you are back in this one, and it is miserable.
Princess Rey of the Palpatines woke up with this fear. It did not help that the wind was moaning outside of her window and the snow was falling in bucket loads onto her sill. She was ice cold and frightened in her enormous princess-sized bed, even under a stack of soft fur blankets. There would be no more fun rides in the snow, no more hunting excursions with Master Luke, no more chunky snowmen to build with her sisters. Everyone was on high alert and frightened.
Rey willfully managed her own fire in her bedroom, stacking sticks and starting the morning glow. Soon, Marie would be in with her tea and breakfast. Rey often found herself picking at some bread before giving the rest to Marie; what was the point? Everyone was a little hungry. Most traders were too frightened to pass in and out of Theed town walls with the recent rumors from up North. It was deep midwinter and everything was scarce; vegetables, flour, fat chickens, and joy. The only thing anyone had in abundance was firewood.
Marie rapped on the door, “Are you awake ma’am?”
“Yes, come in.”
Breakfast was a small glob of porridge and an egg, delivered on a neat tray with the Palpatine silver.
“Thanks Marie. Any sign of the riders last night?”
“You know they don’t like to share that kind of thing with me, but I heard something was spotted in the northeast; at Love Ridge. They saw smoke? Something like that.”
“Are you scared?” Rey asked, sitting down to her tray of breakfast with a fur wrap covering most of herself.
“No ma’am, we have the knights to protect us. The town walls are high and strong. They can poke at us and scare us, but no one is going to make us leave.”
“You’re right,” Rey didn’t feel like fighting an optimist. “Did you have enough breakfast yourself?”
“Plenty, ma’am. And before I go forgetting, Miss Rowan asked you to come see her after breakfast.”
“Okay, thank you..”
The wind rattled against the glass panels of the window, shaking them like someone trying to break in. Alone, Rey felt more worried. The Palpatine sisters were in an incredibly vulnerable situation after the death of their father. There was no male heir, no one to steer them through this siege. Duke Hux was as close to a leader as they had, and he didn’t even have a beard.
At first the riders had been spotted on hillsides in the forests around Theed; mistaken for simple bandits in all-black. There were rumors of missing sheep (somehow, sheep were always missing) and stolen tools. But then people who got too close to these bandits started to die in horrifying, message-sending ways. Hung off trees, torn to pieces, and placed in main roads around the city. Rumors became out-loud conversations in pubs and marketplaces: Sith Knights were here, laying in wait to pillage the city.
Rey once enjoyed riding her horse, Valor, through the snow-drenched forests around her home. But now it was idiotic for a princess to ride solo anywhere, even to the market. She and her sisters were locked up anxiously and tight in the castle all day with nothing but extensive sewing to do. And sometimes harp.
Rey would ask the Duke for permission to at least hunt rabbits in the castle gardens; safe enough behind strong stone walls. She was anxious and frightened and was the worst harp player out of her four sisters, all known for their exceptional talent. She wanted to be outside where the trees still sparkled from ice and the daylight was so bright gleaming off the snow that it hurt her eyes. Everything else felt dark and smelled like burnt lamp oil.
The Duke was in the habit of taking over the former king’s duties, and would be up by now and well-fed. He insisted on an entire chicken for breakfast, which was too much even in the best of times. The chicken would be delivered piping hot for him to enjoy in his chambers; the princesses speculated he ate it like a dog. Just one entire chicken for breakfast, sitting greasily in his stomach all day; and then chicken burps.
But first: what did Rowan want?
There were five Palpatine sisters, listed here from eldest to youngest. The eldest was Rosalind, the most beautiful of them all, and the reason that most townsfolk were angry all of the time. When was she going to be married? When would the wealth of a new king be brought to Theed? Then there was Rey, the toughest and most headstrong of the group. Even worse, she was the shortest. Rowan followed, a mirror image of Rey in spirit and passions. And then there were the twins that wrecked their dear mother’s health and broke the tradition of “R” names: Lily and Isabel. The twins were not yet fifteen, but desperately focused on making a good match with another kingdom and some dreamy not-yet-known prince.
Rowan’s chambers were next to Rey’s, so close that sometimes Rey could hear her snoring through the walls. Rowan liked to mirror Rey in everything: her love of riding, her obsession with nature, and her willful spirit. They were close in age and shared everything: except for Rowan’s godforsaken unholy crush on Duke Hux that no one could abide.
Rowan was sitting at her vanity and braiding her hair when Rey entered. The room was toasty and comfortable from the fire, which meant Rowan had gotten up much earlier than Rey. No one was sleeping well these days.
“So, what’s going on? Marie said that you wanted to see me?” Rey began, plopping down on the side of Rowan’s bed.
“Do you think I should wear my hair in two braids on the side or just one big one?” Rowan didn’t look away from the mirror as she spoke.
“I got dressed and came all the way over to give you hair advice?!”
“No, no, of course not. I figured you were behind on the latest gossip.”
“Like what? Evil men are stalking the forests around our city and the Duke is not really a king and we might be invaded or starved out or both?”
“So bleak, Rey! No, my gossip is much more exciting. Last night, sometime after dinner when the Duke and his men do all of their drinking, a knight entered the hall. No one knew who he was.”
“So they killed him or what?”
“No! He pledged fealty to the Duke and swore to protect Theed from any invaders, but again, no one knows who he is. He came on a beautiful black horse and has this massive black sword; he was dressed like a prince. You have got to see his horse in the stables today, I swear, you will—”
“Okay, okay so he has a cool horse. How did you find out about it? What is his name?”
“I admit, I stayed up last night after dinner.”
“...And you eavesdropped.”
“Yes, and I eavesdropped. His page announced him as Knight Ren of Chandrila, but I think he’s a prince in disguise.”
“Why? And does the Duke trust this random guy who decided to ride into Theed in the middle of the night?”
“Rey: he is gorgeous. Most knights have really sweaty helmet head, greasy old-fashioned haircuts, you know what I mean. Knight Ren isn’t like that. He’s a fantastically rich prince in disguise, I would bet money on it.”
“Is he going to surpass the Duke in your affections?”
“You know I love the Duke too much, but anything is possible. You have to see him, I know they are meeting in council today. At least see his horse!” Rowan was insistent.
“I don’t trust any stranger that finds their way into Theed right now, no matter how handsome they are. But I will see his horse,” Rey complied.
“Just see his horse? You’re so boring. Pretend you have some errand during council and take a look!”
“Handsome men can’t be trusted, everyone knows that,” Rey scoffed.
“You’re going to have to trust at least one of them someday, handsome or not.”
Rey didn’t have much to occupy her after visiting Rowan; sewing was dull and her fingers were cold, reading seemed pointless when there were invaders in the woods. The sisters hadn’t planned a feast or any sort of gathering since last fall, which had been mild and rich with plenty. Now it felt like winter inside and outside, no matter how much broth you had. Rey eventually gave up (to herself) to go and see the knight’s new horse.
The stables behind the castle were perhaps the castle’s best luxury. Five horse-obsessed sisters ensured that every animal was lovingly cared for in comfort and space. The horses had an army of grooms to answer to every weird neigh and whinny, no matter what hour of the night. There were proud silver horses, dappled mares, and an endless supply of adorable foals.
Warmly cloaked, Rey walked toward the stables with their strong grey stone exterior and thatched roof. A few fat winter squirrels ran away from her when she crunched on the snow. The grooms were wonderful about leaving Rey on her own, and they would also scurry like the fat squirrels to give her space.
Knight Ren’s stallion stood out immediately. It was many hands taller than their largest stallion, and was placed in the guest stable with its massive black head peeking over the gate. Rowan might have been right: this looked like a prince’s horse. Well-groomed, well-fed, enormously strong. The kind of horse that only happens from strong bloodlines that went back centuries. Rey was impressed. She grabbed a carrot from a sack of treats and approached the stallion.
“I don’t know your name, but welcome to Theed.”
The horse took the carrot and started chomping before Rey’s brain could understand what happened. If this Knight Ren was some kind of spy, or working for the evil lurking in the woods around Theed, he was not being subtle about it. This was a horse who had trained for war; it could probably gallop across a field of enemies without a scratch.
Rey made a gentle attempt to stroke the stallion’s beautiful head, and it did not resist.
The sound of the stable doors opening distracted Rey. It was Gregor, one of the many grooms, running in as if his ass was on fire.
“Ma’am! Ma’am! You had better leave,” he said breathlessly and stressed.
“What?”
“Knight Ren is coming to visit his horse and he’s in a terrible mood. He asked about our stable diet and did not like the answer.”
“What does he expect horses to eat? Cakes?”
“I don’t know, but you’d be better off in the castle right now. He has a mighty temper, he’s liable to strike someone.”
“He wouldn’t dare striking a princess!”
“Um, if that’s what you believe ma’am.” Gregor had never looked so wild-eyed and silly. His blonde hair was standing up in spikes.
Rey wasn’t afraid of a man who just arrived last night, when most everyone else was snoring. Not even if he was a knight, not even if he had a wonderful and talented horse. She continued petting the stallion as if nothing were to happen, even while Gregor pleaded and paced nearby. Her anticipation rose just a little bit; she had met plenty of knights, most of them muscle-headed fools. They liked drinking strong ales and singing stupid songs and bragging about what did or did not happen out in battle. Even if this knight was an evil one, what difference would it make?
The stable doors opened and two men entered: the knight and his groom. Gregor bowed low, and Rey stood there without moving.
The knight was unholy beautiful; a stab to the heart, a kick to the stomach, otherworldly. His hair didn’t sit: it waved and paused, it didn’t make any sense. He had dark everything, dark eyes, a dark pout, dark eyebrows. He was tall and cloaked and clearly strong as could be. Rey felt the size of a mouse, she didn’t know where to look. A clear scar ran over one of his eyes and down his cheek. Were there knights that looked like this? In real life? She could sense his anger and wanted to bow as low as Gregor and escape. Why hadn’t she even braided her hair this morning? She looked like horse shit.
“You’re one of the princesses.” He said this, he didn’t ask this. He was looking at Rey flatly, his attention mostly focused on his horse.
“I’m Rey.” She bowed slightly. What else could she say? She was just another one of the (many) Palpatine princesses, it was true. Not even the most beautiful one.
“I’m Knight Ren,” he said emotionlessly. The Knight walked toward her, his page behind him. The page was nothing spectacular, if anything his clothes were too clean for the job. The banner on his chest revealed a dragon in gold thread. Gold and black, tasteful, Rey considered.
It was worse even closer up. His face was dotted with dark freckles, he seemed entirely unconcerned with Rey. But, unlike Gregor seemed to suggest, he didn’t seem angry. He just seemed focused.
“Who is in charge of the feeding here?” He asked Rey without looking at Rey. She was too busy gawking at how long his eyelashes were. Were they making princes like this nowadays? And where?
“Mr. Lambet,” Rey answered. “Gregor can fetch him, he’s on duty.” Gregor scurried behind her in response, nearly in a full speed run to grab Mr. Lambet.
The knight’s attention was on his horse, who responded affectionately to his hand. Rey was unnecessary and struggled to think of a nice question.
“What’s his name, your horse?”
“Widowmaker.”
“Oh.” Rey didn’t have anything else to add. In a more formal setting, at a dinner or a court session, she might have had the upper hand. She would ask questions and joke, or she thought she would. She tried not smelling him, but he did smell really nice. Musky and something else.
“He’ll be well-cared for here,” Rey continued. “For however long you stay.”
The knight didn’t answer. It wasn’t princess business to know how long a knight would serve anywhere. His hand reaching out to stroke Widowmaker was strong and scarred; a museum of past violence.
Rey was going to have to talk to Rowan about her problem with understating the truth. But for now, her stomach felt strange. Why was he here? He should be ruling some kingdom out there with firm justice and a wife at his side.
She bowed and turned to leave, but he wasn’t watching.
There was something special about Rey that her sisters knew about, but few else did. Aside from being an accomplished rider, she was also an expert marksman with a bow and arrow and had studied swordsmanship as if planning to suddenly become a prince. It was “secretive” in that she would be less marriageable and seen as unfeminine. But most in the castle had seen her practice archery in the garden or swords in the (mostly) unused dungeon.
She returned to her quiet room, knightless and horseless, and thought about this talent. What was she doing?
There were enemies out there: real ones, just gathering forces on Love Ridge and waiting. She was excellent with the bow and sort-of-good with the sword. Duke Hux was the kind of conservative leader that would wait too long to strike; what was keeping her from venturing out there and seeing the camp for herself? She was an extra sister, an unnecessary appendage. Few had the resources to be trained the way that she had, why was she just laying down in the castle? Why was she always just laying down?