Taking the Throne

I will protect you

Rey had no idea how long she had been asleep. There was no sunlight, no windows to look out at the stars. There was no reason to wake up, none that was good enough to take her away from the feeling. Lulled by the hum of the ventilation, she was stuck in a half conscious haze. She felt like she was swimming, more like floating, not that she really knew what that felt like. She had only imagined it, daydreaming away so many sunsets as she waited on Jakku, thinking of all of the things she wanted to do before she died. Praying she would not end up in an unmarked grave, her rotting corpse lamenting the tragedy of her life.

But that was then and it felt like so long ago. A different lifetime? A different Rey?

Wrapped in a thick blanket, she was cocooned so tightly that she had hardly moved. Muscles aching, arm burning from the cut, the dread of moving was too great. Burrowing in deeper, she squeezed her eyes tight, reaching out with her senses. Breathing in deeply, the smell was-clean. Refined clean, not green like the abundant plants on Takodona, not salty and aquatic like Ahch-To. It couldn't be further from the sweat, salt, and grime of the desert. It was something she had never experienced. Not clean like fresh clothes, clean like blank, absent, nothing to attach memories to.

Was this a dream?

Feeling a source of warmth, her instincts took over, and she burrowed deeper into the softness until she found it. Hard underneath, but soft on the surface. Alluring comfort, disguising the deep radiating heat- and the smell? Familiar. Soothing. Awakening. Clean skin on the surface, but like the deep heat there was an identity emerging. It was nothing like the sweaty beasts on Jakku; men and animals mixed with a stench of dishonesty and feral lust. No, this was far away. Musky, yet slightly sweet, with little spikes of wood. Masculine, but not offensive. A scent not overloaded by physical labor, just the pure resting scent of a man.

Rey's eyes jolted open, rapidly scanning her surroundings like a frightened animal. Her body tensed so tight, she was ready to lash out, until his deep velvety voice vibrated into her skin.

"Rey-"

"Where am I?" She replied trying to disguise her fear.

"You are in my bed." He seemed mildly amused. Memories of the interrogation room ran through his mind. A creature in a mask? A creature, maybe, but a mask? No more.

The rush of memories hit her: the throne, the elevator, the shuttle, the shower-and the bed. The more she remembered, the more she began to feel the subtle discomfort between her legs. Why did she feel so empty? Because she could still feel him, where he had been, and what they had done. At the same time she felt an energy, deep in her abdomen, that felt like bursting euphoria.She should have felt shy, self conscious, even embarrassed, but looking at him, meeting his eyes, any glimmer of those emotions was snuffed out. Everything she needed to know was right there.

"You puzzle me." She spoke softly, timidly reaching out and touching his bare chest. Like the hut on Ahch-To, a single touch was loaded with so much more. Layer upon layer unfolding, blooming into a massive overwhelming flood of sex, emotion, and visions. She would have to learn how to control this or she would soon recoil from touching him, the sensation was too powerful.

"Why?" He seemed groggy. The energy around him was calm, luminous, like rippling water reflecting a silver moonlit sky. She had never seen him like this, but had she seen him so much? No, but somehow she knew that this was not normal. Somehow, she knew him so deeply.

"I do not know if you are confident or don't care?"

"It is the later." He replied flatly.

Rey dropped her eyes, looking at his chest. Feeling his long fingers touch her chin, she looked back at him. This was his truth, he believed in what he was doing. Had he been wrong yet? Yes, there with things he had done that were wrong, but with her, had he been wrong? Manipulated, yes, but wrong? Letting the sith, the jedi,the resistance, the first order, all of it, letting it all die and starting new, was it wrong? Could Ben Solo actually be the chosen one to bring the change that the galaxy needed? A murderer. A dark force user. The man that she cared for, that she loved. Why was she unashamed, willingly lost in him? Denying him was torture; it felt like something was holding her head 1 inch underwater, close to death, and all she had to do to breathe was to take his hand. The swirling thoughts were showing on her face.