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It’s not that Rey doesn’t think Luke loves her like a daughter, rather, she sometimes wishes he didn’t. It would make it so very easy to leave him behind, run away from the demands of the life she’d always thought she wanted. But as things stand, disappearing would break Luke’s heart, and Rey just can’t do it. He’s the only father she’s ever known, kind and stern and the first gentle touch she knew since the vague memory of her parents’ passing as a child.
The most difficult part is that she knows it gives Luke no pleasure to demand she marry. Her fiancé is certainly not of her choosing, and Luke has instilled in her a great respect for the ideals of love and devotion. She knows if he is asking this of her, they have run out of options.
“He was once a good man,” Luke tells her. “He calls himself Kylo Ren now, and I know little of that man, but when he was simply Ben, he had a good heart.”
For a moment, Rey considers being childish – accusing Luke of being heartless and locking herself away in her room until he relents and tells her of course he can afford to keep her, she needn’t marry an almost perfect stranger, and everything will be as it was. But Rey is no longer a child, and she knows the way the world turns. She has been too hungry and cold to sleep and made decisions with her back to a corner that she is not proud of, but can’t regret. She knows the look of a person who has tried to make things work, but to no avail.
“I’m sure he is still that man,” she says instead of screaming at him that it isn’t fair. “I trust that you would not have me wed someone you do not think I could love.”
Luke’s face looks almost anguished and Rey feels a chill of apprehension.
“I’m sure all will be well.”
-
Rey had never led an opulent life after Luke had adopted her, but neither were they shamefully poor. Luke’s lifestyle was ascetic by both choice and necessity, but he held a good name, one that Rey has been graced with herself. The respect and favor it afforded him for so long has never run out, but his funds have, so that all the pair of them have left is that name and a meager living. At nineteen, it is a reasonable time for Rey to find herself a husband and if providence has decided to nudge her in that direction by virtue of financial troubles, so be it.
She has even managed to work her way around to being somewhat optimistic about the whole thing, with help from her friends. Finn and Poe don’t have a lick of Society between them and couldn’t care less for whether Rey has a duty as a Skywalker, but they are graced with good humor. Poe nearly has her thinking fate is bringing her to the love of her life by the time Rey walks down the aisle.
The first sight of her soon to be husband banishes such thoughts from her mind.
He is by no means ugly or decrepit, but he is something like a decade her senior and possibly the most dour-looking soul she has ever laid eyes on. In a handsome suit, the son of Luke’s sister looks as though he is here for his funeral, or possibly someone else’s. Someone he doesn’t greatly regret the passing of, in fact.
He is tall, and has eyes Rey thinks could be expressive and lively, but he spends the entirety of the ceremony determinedly glaring at the minister. Rey uses his distraction and the slight cover of her veil to study him and is disappointed to find her instincts toward his person so negative, because she could see herself finding him physically appealing if nothing else. Perhaps he is only nervous.
-
He is not nervous. The moment they’ve said their ‘I do’s and he’s been instructed to kiss her, he leads what can only be called a charge out of the church. Finn and Poe, the only guests besides the parents of the bride and groom, make faces at her as they rush out, and she can tell they think to make a joke of his eagerness to be alone with her. She has a feeling his march to the waiting carriage has little to do with wanting to be with her and more to do with wanting to be away from as many people as possible.
Her suspicions are confirmed as Kylo brushes past his mother and father and hustles her inside the carriage, following at a quick pace and only relaxing against the seat when they are in motion.
“Why do you call yourself Kylo Ren?” she asks after the silence has drawn on too long for her liking.
He startles slightly as if he has forgotten she is there, and maybe he has.
“Because it is the name I have chosen,” he answers finally.
“You don’t care for the one you were born with?” she presses, wondering if he’s the sort of man who deals well with impertinence. For both their sakes, she hopes so.
He levels her with a stare, and Rey catches herself before she can sit back at the intensity of his gaze.
“I do not.” His arms cross over his broad chest, and though he doesn’t seem a threat to her in particular, neither does he seem pleased with her. “And while your position as my wife grants you certain freedoms with me, you will not use my old name.”
Rey has to fight down the urge to tell him exactly what he can do with his orders and his name, remembering Luke’s request for her to be patient. Instead, she settles in for a long ride to the place she will now call home.
-
Kylo’s home in the city is a far cry from the gently rolling hills of Rey’s recent years, but she is no stranger to the bustle and noise of the city, though she has no desire to refamiliarize herself with it if it can be helped. Instead of becoming a woman of society as Rey expects she was meant to, Rey becomes something of a wraith, wandering the house. She learns a great many things, thanks to her husband’s extensive library, and in turn learns almost nothing of the man himself.
The little she does learn is generally unflattering. He is a quick tempered man, though he has tight control over where that temper is aimed when it breaks. Furniture has fallen to his momentary rages, though he has been nothing but fleeting and painfully polite with her person. Kylo is a vicious businessman, whose morals appear to be shaky at best in cutting deals. Rey has never claimed to have a great head for sums or business, but even she can tell his decisions do not settle well on his shoulders. Phasma, the woman in charge of his most local property, had come with discussion of disgruntled laborers, and Rey had watched her husband waver between what was right and what was cost effective, and eventually fall to the latter. She watches him debate with himself, indulge in brooding solitude, and command the attention of a room. She has yet to see him give to the more reasonable nature that at times shines through, and has all but given up on him ever becoming a man she could love.
Her husband is constantly busy, and when he isn’t, Kylo seems to have no interest in sharing anything but the briefest of contact with his wife. Their suite is attached and private, so there are few whispers among his servants about their private life. No one could accuse them of anything they haven’t done, but neither is there any proof that Rey has yet to consummate her marriage to him. Which she hasn’t.
It’s only a slight annoyance to her until she is finally compelled to share the secret with Finn and Poe. They have regular meetings, with Kylo’s knowing consent, so that she can catch up with her dear friends. He seems less than eager to have the pair in his home, but has bid her to do what she wishes, saying the house is “yours as well as mine, far be it from me to limit you here.”
“You haven’t…” Finn gestures vaguely, face reddening when he realizes he’s probably making rude gestures in full view of anyone passing by. Not that anyone would be around to see in the privacy of Kylo’s sitting room. Rey doesn’t even think he receives his own guests here, preferring to go straight to his office for business. It’s often loud, and has on a few occasions, ended with him forcibly removing guests from the house, namely a man called Hux, who Rey has a bone-deep distaste for and suspects her husband dislikes just as strongly.
“We haven’t,” Rey confirms, taking a sip of her tea so as to avoid further elaborating.
“But you must have,” Poe insists. “Otherwise the marriage is a sham.”
“There are plenty of loveless marriages in this world,” Rey says, not bothering to conceal her bitterness. “Mine is no different.”
“It is,” Poe says. “And you mustn’t tell anyone else about this.” He looks about, as if some gossiping member of the staff will be sweeping away to broadcast her secrets in that instant. “He may not be the love of your life, but Kylo Ren is a valuable prospect, and there are plenty who would challenge you for him.”
Rey sets down her cup less than gently.
“Let them try,” she snaps. “The man has no compunctions for lying, and I don’t see why he should develop a distaste for it in this case. I’m sure, should it come to it, he could pretend with every talent that the requirements of our marriage are impeccably upheld.”
Poe’s face softens from the urgency it had held a moment ago. He knows her well enough to know her eloquence can only mean he’s touched a nerve. Finn clears his throat and nudges Poe.
“You ought to let her handle her own husband,” Finn says diplomatically. “And Rey, you ought to handle your husband.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Rey says, feigning ignorance.
“You ought to bed him,” Poe says bluntly. He’s never been one to pull his punches, and while Rey normally appreciates his candid manner, she finds it annoying in this moment.
He’s right, of course, though it shouldn’t be any of his business. It’s only that Kylo Ren is an intimidating man on the best of days, and Rey is entirely unsure if she possesses either the charm or the mettle to seduce her husband. In a supremely cowardly move, Rey resorts to trying to learn more of him from his parents.
She tells Kylo she is going out to visit with Luke, and he doesn’t question her, merely requests she return before dark in a way that implies he knows it’s expected but won’t be particularly bothered should she turn up tomorrow morning. Rey is once again glad for her freedom if nothing else. He isn’t so much an attentive spouse, but neither is he neglectful or controlling. She could have ended up with worse.
-
Han is not in residence when Rey arrives at the Organa estate. It’s a pity, as Rey knows Han far better than she does Leia, but she has equal fondness for her adopted aunt and uncle, now mother- and father-in-law. Leia greets her with a smile at the door, and Rey instantly wonders if Kylo Ren has ever shared his mother’s smile, and what happened to banish it so thoroughly from his face. In the months they have lived together, she can’t recall having seen him smile once.
“Come in,” Leia urges her. “I was so glad to hear from you, though not surprised my son declined to accompany you here.”
“Actually,” Rey confesses, “I had no intention of asking him along with me today. You see, I had hoped you might be able to offer me some history on my husband. He’s not very forthcoming on any particular subjects.”
Leia sighs. She’s led them to a parlor furnished comfortably, and Rey again has to admire the beauty of the Organas’ home. She often forgets that Leia and Han are quite as wealthy as they are, owing very much to Han’s habit of dressing far below his station and passing his time with all manner of folk. She has never been intimidated by it, but it sits at the forefront of her mind, visiting the house for the first time with the knowledge that when Leia and Han eventually pass, this will be part of her inheritance.
“He never was a very open sort,” Leia says, sitting and waiting for Rey to do so as well. “I’m afraid he only got more distant with us as he grew. I can’t offer you any insight to who he is now, but I can tell you about who he was.”
Rey spends the afternoon learning about Ben, the boy who became her husband. And though she never had a chance to meet him, Rey finds herself missing Ben terribly. From the telling, he was a quiet child, but genuine and fiercely protective of the things he loved. Leia speaks in a voice that is both wistful and regretful when she tells Rey about how he changed when he was sent to boarding school.
“Those vile boys,” Leia hisses. “He never would have turned out as he did if we’d kept him closer to home. I’ve never heard of such a den of greedy, grasping children, and them with all the money and power boys could hope for.”
He left behind the name Ben on returning from his schooling, and left home shortly afterward. As Leia tells it, he rejected any connection to his parents from then on, making his own way ruthlessly and, though the methods may have been distasteful, successfully. All that he owns is his by the earning, and Rey is somewhat unwillingly impressed. At least she can be assured his busy schedule is out of necessity and not avoidance. She has the passing notion to worry that perhaps he isn’t getting enough sleep, and quickly shakes the thought from her mind. He’s a grown man and hasn’t deigned to allow her any sort of space in his day-to-day business, and so she shouldn’t concern herself with it. So long as they continue to be civil and, god forbid, no one comes to know about the questionable legality of the marriage before something can be done about it, Rey should feel justified in continuing on as she has.
-
Her visit with Leia is both enlightening and refreshing, and Rey almost can’t believe how long it’s been since she’s been any further than the grounds of her new home. At the realization, she takes her time on the journey back, stopping in town to spend a few moments walking among strangers distant enough from the city that she can’t sense the claustrophobic, rushed spirit that is inescapable there. It puts her arrival a bit later than expected, but not an unreasonable hour.
Her husband is awake and reading when Rey makes her way to her rooms, and he looks up at her entrance. He closes the book with a snap, setting it aside and rising toward her with a look on his face she hasn’t seen the like of since their wedding day. It’s a cold sort of anger, and Rey would almost call it betrayed.
“You were not with Luke Skywalker today,” he says, and it rides the line between question and accusation.
Rey debates lying, but finds that she doesn’t want to, even if she believed he would take her at her word. They have been too careful around each other, and if a visit to his mother is what makes Kylo speak to her for more than a minute at a time, so be it.
“I was not.” She brushes past him to her bedside table, deliberate in her movements to annoy and make him react.
He rises to the occasion.
“And where were you?” he asks through clenched teeth. “Please understand that it is extremely trying for a man to realize his wife is lying about her whereabouts and to have no idea of her true location.”
“I was visiting my mother-in-law,” she says primly, whirling around to face him, challenge all over her expression. “Apparently these are the levels a wife must stoop to if she’s to learn anything of importance about her husband. Imagine my shock at finding you were once a perfectly wonderful gentleman, according to your mother.”
His face darkens abruptly, and if Rey were a more timid sort, she would apologize and pray he let the issue drop. As it is, she is tired; tired of not knowing, tired of pretending all is well, tired of the low-grade tension that sizzles under her skin when she is near him. If he never speaks to her again, Rey will have to endure it, but she will have it out with him now.
“That woman is a misguided old fool,” he says, hand clenching into a fist at his side. “And you would do well to put her from your mind.”
“Or what?” Rey says. “You will forbid me from speaking with her? I may remind you that I am not yours to command.”
“Oh, yes you are,” he roars suddenly, and Rey is left blinking in slight shock in the deafening silence before he goes on. “You are my wife and you will respect my wishes on this matter. You will not see her again.”
“I am hardly your wife,” she says, low and tense. “That would require a bit more attention on your part. You’ve said the words, but your actions are merely those of a roommate and no husband.”
He rears back as though she’s struck him, mouth dropping open. He takes a step back and it’s only then that Rey realizes they’ve been shouting at each other across the space of a few inches.
“You forget yourself,” he tells her evenly, moving past her toward the door to his own bedroom. “We will speak in the morning when you’ve rested and feel more up to reasonable discussion.”
“We will not,” Rey growls, almost to herself. She hardly thinks about it before she’s on him, hoisting him backward with a hand on his arm. He doesn’t fight her, possibly due to surprise, and Rey manages to shove him onto her bed before his sensibilities seem to reassert themselves.
“Rey,” he starts and she realizes with a jolt that it’s the first time he’s said her name. It sounds dark and dangerous tumbling from his lips, and Rey wonders if it’s because she is working on pushing him back to the brink of snapping at her, or if it always sounds like that. She has a sudden and fierce desire to find out.
“Don’t presume to boss me around in my own bedroom,” she says firmly, boxing him in with her own body, trapping him where he’s sprawled slightly, feet on the floor, ass and elbows on her bedcovers. He inches back infinitesimally when her skirt brushes his knees.
“If you’d like to have a discussion in the morning, very well,” she goes on. “But the issue on the table at this moment is whether you’re going to make an honest woman of me or not. If you’ve no desire to do so, then I won’t press, but I must know so that I can call an end to this if it’s all a sham.”
Something shifts in his eyes, and his bemused expression hardens into something new.
“I will not make a nuisance of myself where I’m unwanted,” Rey finishes. “And I’m sure you could find a more satisfactory spouse if you are so inclined.”
Kylo laughs then, and Rey sees something like a smile for the first time, craves for it to grow past the smirk that graces his mouth now.
“I fear I could not,” he says quietly. “It’s a running joke in my family that the men always seem to fall for women who easily best them, and I must admit there is truth to it.”
“What,” Rey asks, astonished. “You’ve suddenly decided I’m fit because I’ve put you on your back?”
“Would you believe me if I said yes?” He shifts upright, no longer avoiding the slight touch of her legs against his through her skirt, and looks her over appraisingly before meeting her eye. “I do not tolerate weakness well, and I have perhaps mistaken kindness for weakness in you. It appears I was very wrong.”
“However,” he says in a much more serious tone, undercut by the way his hands have migrated to toy with her fingers, making Rey’s breath catch. “I am firm in my request that you not see my family. They are dead to me, and I do not wish to bring ghosts into my life.”
“That we will discuss in the morning,” Rey assures him. “But I find this particular moment better suited to action than words.”
-
Rey of course has no basis for comparison, but she feels that if she did, she would not find her husband wanting as a lover. He is by turns too rough or too gentle, but it serves only to keep Rey aware and on edge, waiting for the shift from one to the other and rushing to keep up with whichever notion he falls toward.
His frame covers her entirely, and Rey is struck yet again by how much larger he is when he wraps one arm completely around her waist, shifting her body so that every movement of his hips has her throwing her head back, choking on a lack of air. His mouth follows the curve of her throat, alternating soft lips and tongue with the edge of teeth as she feels him lose himself in her. Her nails dig into his broad back, grasping for purchase against the onslaught of sensations. She’s already peaked once tonight, after Kylo spent a good while with his head between her legs, and the resulting sensitivity makes it all the more easy for him to drive her higher faster.
Rey feels herself cresting and fears for a moment that her back will break with the helpless arch her spine pulls her into, and distantly hears him groan before his pace becomes frantic. Clever fingers find the place where they join, a bare brush of his fingertips lighting her up inside so that she completely misses his climax under the crush of her own. She wills herself to open her eyes after the most intense waves have passed and finds him braced over her, an almost pained expression on his face and his hair tumbling around his flushed cheeks.
She doesn’t try to stop herself from burying her hands in his hair and pulling his mouth to hers. Their kiss is slow and indulgent, so unlike the first of the night, and Rey can’t quite decide which version she likes more. She bites, softly, at his lower lip, drawing another groan from him, followed by a hiss as his hips retreat from hers. Catching his shoulder, she encourages him to let his weight down onto her, his face pressed lightly to her throat, where he seems fascinated with putting his mouth. Rey doesn’t mind it at all.
“You are going to be terrible to live with,” he mumbles against her collarbones after a few moments of quietly letting their pulses calm.
“That’s not true,” Rey protests, carding fingers through his hair and earning a pleased sort of rumble from him. “But you are going to learn what it’s actually like to live with me, not just around me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re mocking me,” Rey accuses.
Kylo shifts himself upward to kiss her, hands pulling her into him and holding her there against his body while he seemingly attempts to memorize her mouth through touch. When he pulls back, that smirk is in place, teasing Rey with the potential for a smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says.