Chapter Text
Rey’s padded boots barely make a sound on the marble floor, and yet several heads turn to look at her walking beside Luke Skywalker. Their steps are silent but swift, betraying the urgency of the call that had the two of them rushing from halfway across the galaxy.
She senses curiosity, and maybe a little fear, hidden behind the metal helmets of the guards stationed at the columns along the long hall. It is a grand structure this estate she is in—all ornate high ceilings and frescos, tall windows and marble columns. It makes the scavenger in her, the one that has followed her throughout the years of training in Luke’s academy, wince at the waste of credits on such a basic need as a roof over one’s head.
She steals a quick look at her Master. His clear, blue eyes are shadowed by a frown. The hood that’s draped over his head hides the rest of his tense features from curious eyes. She tries to match his long strides as best as she can, the whisper of their plain, beige robes against the polished floor being the only sound that betrays their presence.
Doors are parted for them at the end of the hall, revealing a large chamber filled in morning light streaming through the windows. Some kind of a formal office or greeting room, from what Rey can tell. In the middle of it stands an older woman in Senator’s robes, who quickly turns at the sound of their entry. Next to her a golden droid whirls as well, tilting its head in acknowledgment.
“Master Luke! It is such a relief to see you so soon after the incident! Princess… Senator Organa, I mean… was just telling me how much she has been looking forward to seeing you and the Jedi that will—”
A hand is raised in front of the droid, silencing it.
“Not now Threepio,” the woman says.
Luke’s twin sister, no doubt. They have no resemblance physically, whatsoever—but Rey can’t deny the unmistakable similarity in Force signature that the woman exudes.
She approaches Luke in a hurry, and they grasp each other’s forearms. “I'm so glad you could make it on such short notice,” she says, looking up at him worriedly. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“How’s Ben?”
“Lucky to be alive.”
“Was he hurt?”
“Not a scratch. But Luke…”
He stares at her, waiting.
“He used the Force,” she says, her voice nearly a whisper. “The Dark Side.”
Rey watches as her Master clenches his jaw and tightens his grip on his sister.
“We always knew it was there, Leia. Let’s be grateful he’s alive. Rey and I are here to help.”
Senator Organa turns to greet her, extending her hand. “Thank you for agreeing to this,” she says warmly.
Rey notices her brown intelligent eyes, so captivating in their intensity. She’s nearly a head shorter than Rey, but it feels as if she’s towering over her. Her hair is mostly grey, twisted in an intricate braid around her head, and held in place by golden pins that shine in the sunlight. She looks as elegant as any senator—or princess—should.
Rey clamps down the urge to run her hand through her own stringy hair, still peppered in Tatooine’s sand.
“It’s an honor, Senator,” she says, wrapping her calloused fingers around the older woman’s soft hand. “I’ll do my best to keep him safe.”
Senator Organa smiles warily. “I believe you... But I also know it won't be easy working with my son. Please, try not to be—”
Incoming footfall and the rustling of heavy fabric interrupt the Senator’s next words, as a man draped in Coruscant’s black and purple politician’s robes stalks into the room, tugging on his leather gloves. He is tall. Much taller than Rey remembers. And broad.
The man’s initial stormy stride subsides as he sees who is in the room, and comes to a gradual stop.
“Luke.” His deep voice reverberates from the marble walls.
“Hello, Ben.”
The man doesn’t greet back. Rey can feel the intensity of his dark eyes crawl up her spine as he stares at her Master.
So this is Ben Solo...
Rey already regrets agreeing to be his protector. Dealing with spoiled, arrogant politicians is not her forte. She’ll probably end up running her own blade through him, and spare the assassin the inconvenience of another attempt on his life.
She stifles a snort.
And then those dark eyes are upon her.
“Is she the Jedi?”
“Ben,” Senator Organa steps in. “You said you would cooperate.”
“I don’t need their protection, mother. I have my own men,” he grits at her.
“Who are, obviously, not equipped to deal with a situation such as this! Ben… please... It was a Force-wielder you were up against. We’ll need all the help we can get.”
He tightens his lips as he studies Rey from the tips of her brown worn-out boots to the last strand of hair sticking out from her three buns. She sees the disdain in his features.
“Of all the padawans in your precious academy, Uncle Luke, you decided to bring a woman to my aid.”
Rey stiffens at his comment and narrows her eyes, but chooses to keep her mouth shut. Yes, it seems she will need every ounce of training she’s had till now to keep her cool around this man.
“Rey is not a padawan. She is a Jedi," her Master points out. "And the best one I have too. I would advise you not to underestimate her.”
Luke’s intervention causes his nephew to chuckle coldly. “You are misreading my apprehension, Master Skywalker. I don’t have a problem with my bodyguard being a female. But my betrothed will.”
“Hannah is logical," Senator Organa urges. "She’ll understand your life is far more important than a few ancient traditions of her world.”
“Will she, mother?” he turns to her. “Or will all attempts at negotiation with her world and its people be blown to smithereens because of your stubborn need to protect me?”
Rey feels his heavy gaze on her again. “This is a mistake,” he says, taking a step back. “I want another Jedi.”
Luke huffs, exasperated, while Senator Organa shakes her head dejectedly.
“You’re not getting another Jedi,” Rey’s clear voice rings in the vast room for the first time in his presence. She stares steadily into his dark eyes as his features turn into stone. He seems to be very aggravated by her interference. Rey could care less. “Luke and I have gone to great lengths to reach you so soon after the attempt. The way I see it, you either accept my help or you don’t. We don’t intend to waste any more of our time.”
For an endless moment, he remains still as a statue, studying her while Rey holds her breath. He’s nothing like the boy she remembers, she manages to think briefly, and wonders if he has any recollection of her. It doesn’t seem to be that way, Rey decides, when he abruptly breaks eye contact, turns around, and stalks towards the exit, a whirlwind of black garments following his gait.
Rey blinks, shoving the stinging of his rejection aside. No matter the years, it is not a sentiment she has come to terms with. Many things in her childhood have left an ugly scar on her psyche.
He halts at the doors—
And turns his sharp profile over his shoulder without sparing her a single glance. “Will you be gracing me with your company, Jedi? Or do I need to extend a formal invitation?”
Rey quickly reins in her dumbfounded expression. Much quicker than Luke and his sister do, who stare at him with wide eyes.
She straightens her back, and brushes her fingers on the edge of her saberstaff perched on her back. Its presence is that of a comforting friend.
He resumes his exit while Rey hurries to follow his retreating back. She remains two steps behind him as he makes his way down the long hall and through the heavy durasteel gate. A blinding, sunny day receives them, along with a half dozen guards who flank their side as they head towards a ship prepping for take-off.
“Where are we headed?” she asks. He doesn’t seem to have heard what she said as he continues his hurried pace on the landing bay. That, or he chooses to ignore her. Rey believes it’s the latter, but pretends it’s the first, as she opens her mouth to repeat the question a little louder.
“Hosnian Prime,” he informs her flatly, not bothering to look at her. He walks up the ramp of his sleek ship, barely nodding at the pilot saluting him.
Rey notices the crew stiffen upon his entry, or scurry to get out of his way as he stalks further inside. A man, around her age, approaches him, offering a datapad.
“Our guest?” he asks, glancing at her.
“My personal Jedi,” he answers in a tone that is borderline sarcastic. Rey presses her lips in a thin line to remain silent. “She’ll be accompanying me to my affairs indefinitely. Find her a seat,” he orders before disappearing behind a set of whooshing doors. A guard comes to stand in front of them, clutching at his armed belt, and signaling to Rey not to approach any further.
It all happens so fast that it leaves her reeling.
What an infuriating man!
Rey stands in the middle of the corridor with clenched fists, trying but failing to contain her aggravation. Crew members bump into her, or glance warily in her direction as they pass by in their hurried preparation for take-off, when a light tap on the shoulder has her whirling around to face her newest assailant. It’s the man who had offered Ben Solo the datapad. His smile is friendly as he raises his hand in the direction of one of the corridors.
"This way please," he says politely. "We have prepared a room for you."
Thank the gods... Rey nearly sighs in relief.
“Is he always this irritable?” she can’t help but ask as she falls into step next to him.
“I'd say this is his normal self.”
"Ah." Great. "I see..."
The young man glances at her amused from what she can sense. “The first time in his presence is always a bit of a challenge. You’ll get used to him.”
“I sincerely doubt that.”
He lets out a warm laugh to her surprise, pausing briefly to introduce himself. “I’m Jeff Hudson, by the way. His Public Relations manager. Welcome aboard. And these," he lifts his hand again towards another set of doors, "are your quarters where you can rest and freshen up. We’ll be leaving Coruscant shortly.”
“Thank you,” Rey smiles content.
He escorts her to the doors and sets his hand on a panel to unlock them. They slide open with a soft woosh, revealing a simple but comfortable-looking room before he hands her the codes and bids her a good rest.
Rey hesitates. “Mr. Hudson?”
“Yes?”
“What is Mr. Solo’s position? I mean—what is it that he does exactly?”
He blinks a little surprised at her question, making her feel as if she’s been living under a rock all her life.
“Well… He’s the Governor of Coruscant, my lady. And quite possibly the next High Chancellor of the New Republic in the upcoming elections—despite his young age. I figured you were aware…”
“Of course! Right.” She nods enthusiastically.
Gods.
She prays he doesn’t find out about this.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Hudson,” she adds quickly. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to roam around the ship a bit first. Get a feel of things before resting.”
“By all means. Senator Organa has directed me to provide you with anything you might need. I’ll make sure you have unlimited access to all areas.”
He bows curtly and departs, leaving Rey to stand alone again. She feels the ship vibrate smoothly as its thrusters lift it in the air. She glances one last time at the Governor’s doors still shut like a clam, with the guard standing rigidly in front of them.
She shakes her head and decides to head towards the cockpit first. Hitting hyperspace is her favorite part of space travel, and she has to somehow lift her spirits after that horrendous introduction to one of the galaxy's most powerful leaders.
No wonder Luke's older students disappeared upon the mention of Ben Solo.
Skywalker should have better prepared her for his nephew’s foul personality, or at least, given her the choice to decline the assignment.
His best Jedi, my ass.
Rey huffs, blowing a strand of hair out of her face as she sets foot in the cockpit. The sleek black surfaces, and latest tech in hyperspace navigation, easily distract her from her previous thoughts. Perhaps, if the captain allowed her to ease the ship out of the atmosphere then this whole ordeal wouldn't be so bad.
Rey frowns, resting her hand on the smooth metal of the cockpit's entrance.
She doubts that, as well.