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She could taste victory, sharp and acrid on her tongue, like the tang of blood.
Her lightsaber glowed red in the moonlight.
She deactivated it as an officer approached.
“I will go after the pilot. Alone,” she said, the force of command in her voice.
“Yes, my lady,” the officer responded, bowing and withdrawing.
They had landed on this small forest moon after shooting down a notorious smuggling vessel long suspected of being tied to the loathsome Resistance.
Rey had never been to this particular moon before; Endor was far out of the way of the main galactic hyperspace lanes. It had been the site of the grand Empire’s death blow, and many of the galaxy’s more superstitious denizens avoided the area, claiming they could hear spirits echoing through empty space and saw queer things in the forest.
The Lady Rey, Master of the Knights of Ren and granddaughter of the great Emperor Palpatine himself, was none such.
She knew her grandfather would be proud as she stalked through the darkness, feeling her way over tumbled trees and towards her prey rather than seeing.
She had a hunch, and she wanted to be proven correct.
The Millennium Falcon had disappeared for a number of years; the ship had changed hands, been stolen twice and allegedly stolen back by its original owner, the smuggling scum Rebellion general known as Han Solo.
He had a son who supposedly had argued with his mother, breaking ties with her Resistance and taking over his father’s smuggling business.
Rey knew this to be untrue. The son was as intimately involved with the Resistance as the father had been with the Rebellion.
The Empire had failed; the First Order would not.
There was one thing about which the spun tales were correct: there were spirits in the forest. Rey could feel them, and drew strength from the heroic, fallen soldiers of the Empire who had given their lives that day.
She could almost her her Grandfather’s whisper.
Good. I can feel your anger. Let the hate flow through you.
She lowered her hood, eyes narrowing in the darkness. A faint glow emanated from a clearing ahead, then was quickly snuffed out.
She moved carefully, swiftly, an arrow striking true in the darkness, her lightsaber at her hip, a heavy staff strapped to her back. Her cloak covered both and provided warmth; the heavy cloud cover promised snow soon.
She paused behind a tree to take in the scene before her.
The ship had managed to land, and the pilot had done a decent job of attempting to camouflage it where it rested. At least one of the shots had to have taken out the hyperdrive, presumably where the pilot was, as there was no evidence of a campsite.
Rey took a deep breath, closing her eyes and reaching out with the Force.
There was one life-form whose presence was strangely damped down. If his presence had been one of her grandfather’s paintings, this one would have blurred edges, the color running from the middle towards the edges and dripping out of the frame.
He is a Force user. He knows to hide his presence.
I have finally come for you, Ben Solo. Your grandfather would be so disappointed by your pathetic smuggling.
Rey took her lightsaber off her belt and stepped forward into the small clearing.
Aboard the Millennium Falcon, Ben Solo forced one more panel into submission, then locked himself inside the engineering bay. He knew better than to try the smuggling compartments; his parents had tried that trick one too many times.
He knew who was searching for him in the darkness.
They had never actually met; Ben Solo had left the worlds of Coruscant and Hosnian Prime and his mother’s political dealings before Rey Palpatine had even been born. Her father had been a prominent and wealthy official in the Empire; her mother, a daughter of Palpatine’s by one of his many concubines.
Ben wrinkled his nose in disgust, and ran a hand through his hair, looking around him for anything he could use to buy himself more time. He knew how vicious the Master of the Knights of Ren could be. He pressed his hand to his heart, remembering his uncle’s former students, then returned to preparing for her arrival.
She stepped aboard the ship.
It smelled and felt unmistakably masculine, an energy so different from her own. Even with his attempts to hide his presence in the Force, it became stronger as she approached.
Oh gods, he is powerful. He will join me, or die, Grandfather. We will bring your Empire back to great glory.
The ship seemed remarkably empty; she knew he had been running weapons to the Resistance.
It was quiet. Too quiet. He was hiding from her.
She prowled through the ship until she reached the engineering bay.
Too smart for the smuggling compartments, she thought. There would be plenty of nooks and crannies in there, along with potentially poisonous fluids and gases that he could use to his advantage.
She ignited her lightsaber and cut through the durasteel doorway.
She cut through the door like it was nothing, much faster than Ben had hoped.
He waited, crouched in the darkness, meditating the way his uncle had taught him, until she stood before him.
Somehow, the glow of her blood red lightsaber made her look more beautiful than frightening, almost like a candle in the sort of fancy restaurant Ben generally avoided.
He let go of his attempt at hiding his Force signature, releasing the energy and finding his center again.
He ignited his lightsaber.
I am a Jedi, like my uncle before me, and his father before him.
“You’re not as scary as I thought you’d be, for someone who’s been involved in the deaths of millions of people.”
He ignited his weapon, a shimmering blue.
And then he spoke, and Rey wanted to slash across the face that had taunted her across the galaxy for his insolence.
He taunted her, as he stepped forward into the light and to his full height; he was taller than she, much taller than she had expected. The light caught his face, and she was momentarily distracted by his full lips, his insolent lips, drawn into the hint of a smirk.
She took a step backward, and the hem of her cloak caught underneath her boots.
She fell, and he lunged forward with his ‘saber.
She met it with her own from an awkward sitting position on the floor, and reached out with the full depth of her anger, using her other hand to push him back with the Force.
She could feel more than hear the breath rush out of him as she caught him full in the chest with her Force push.
She scampered up, quickly tossing her cloak behind her, revealing the staff that had been strapped to her back and allowing herself more freedom of movement.
She positioned herself in a proper stance, and he came towards her once more.
Their blades clashed and sang.
They fought, through the ship and out of it into the forest, scarcely noticing where they were going, so intent were they on their deadly dance.
He is well trained, for a Jedi. She would have spat the word out had she said it aloud.
In the glow of their ‘sabers, she could have sworn he had somehow caught her thought, as it appeared he winked and smirked at her.
She swallowed a curse, and snarled at him, swinging wildly.
She caught him across the face. Good. He was far too pretty by half.
He bent over, dripping blood.
She stalked toward him for the killing blow.
But then, he looked up and swung his arm toward her.
She was flying through the air and colliding with a tree before she realized what had happened. She barely remembered disembarking from the ship, so intent upon their blades crossing was she.
She heard, more than felt, the impact of her head and back on the tree’s deep, dark wood before the world went black around her.
Her final thought before her surrender was that he would not kill her.
His lips were bloody as she kissed them. She tasted it, along with the saltiness of his sweat and the taste of the masculine scent she had caught when she boarded the Falcon.
She moaned, and deepened the kiss, pawing at the silk of his shirt.
Fine clothes, for a smuggler, she thought.
He chuckled. My mother is a princess and a former Senator.
She all but ripped the shirt off of him, feeling down his finely chiseled and scarred muscles.
He was hers, and hers alone.
She realized she was dreaming right before her dream self ripped off Ben Solo’s trousers.
She lamented her return to the waking world, realizing how profoundly splitting the pain in her head and neck was. Her every muscle ached, and her core was wet and tingling from the erotic dream.
The Millennium Falcon was gone.
She knew two things in her deepest self in that moment: she and the smuggler would cross paths again, and he was hers.