When the Day Loved the Night (On Temporary Hiatus!)

The Ceremony

(Credit to Artist Above)

Rey had awoken with a woozy moan.

The cell enclosing her was bleak and cold- both of which screamed of the isolation the First Order conveyed so well.

As soon as her eyes had sprung open, droids of all kinds began wrestling with her hair, her clothes, her dirtied face, cleaning and scrubbing away the grime which remained the last thing claiming her to the Resistance. They washed away what made her their enemy. And, after pressing on heavy, refined makeup to cover the impurities of her flesh, they had stripped her of her robes- her Jedi robes- and shoved her into a metallic, silver gown.

Rey despised it all.

She fought the robots with such vigor, nearly crushing one of the androids altogether with the force, that the stormtroopers guarding her cell had place her in metal cuffs, some sort of wristbands.

Force-cancelling restraints. She realized.

The Jedi pondered bitterly what other technological advances the First Order had gained above the Resistance.

No wonder they had lost so easily.

The droids spent hours, it felt to Rey, weaving her hair into some illustrious nest of complicated braids, still painting her face with powdery liquid as if to brand her. She was the First Order's.

The Jedi could not fathom any reason for such extensive beautification, save for the personal pleasure of her captors. However, she had hushed herself eventually, resigning to the droids after her endless fight to hear their mechanical conversations.

The ceremony, remained the theme of which they spoke.

As the droids pulled tightly at her dress's laced fitting, Rey gazed at the droids collecting her jewelry and accessories to spy a thin sheet of ebony lace. A veil.

The Jedi's stomach curdled as she released an inaudible scream.

The ceremony was a wedding.

She'd fought the droids again just as they had finished arranging final embellishments of what would be her costume in an orchestrated circus. But, her efforts were to no avail as the stormtroopers pinned their blasters to her head, leaving her but one choice: obedience.

The chapel hall was far larger and more beautiful than anything Rey had known the First Order capable of conceiving. Yet, she could not admire its grandeur amidst the event at hand. Solely, stormtroopers stood behind her, though that was no comfort as she knew their presence was only to raise their weapons and fire if she attempted any escape.

Her hands grew numb in the constricting bands wrapped around her wrists, her head already spinning with the weight of her jewelry. She had never worn anything so elegant before, yet never had she detested any piece of clothing more than the dress adorning her.

Kylo Ren entered last, a contradiction to the way Rey had known the order of weddings to follow. He, too, wore robes of unfathomable luxury, but it suited him nonetheless. Perhaps, after all, there was something in him similar to his mother. What intrigued Rey most, however, was his uncomfortable, stiffened figure. It seemed he found the ordeal no more appealing than she.

Rey wondered cynically to herself, Pity, did he finally regret a choice?

There were no rings.

They had no need for a sanction of union when they already shared a bond far more powerful than any of material things.

They spoke no vows, either.