Chapter Text
Chapter One
Rey wanted it to rain. She wanted the sky to break open with thunder and booms of lightening. She wanted the wind to howl and rip the trees from the ground. She needed the weather to match her pain. The clear sky and stillness of the day seemed to mock her. Her father, King Luke of House Sky, was dead, his body being prepared for burial in the chapel. No doubt the monks had started the process of coating the body in beeswax to preserve it for viewing. A stone mason would be chosen soon to construct the king’s likeness on top of his mausoleum. The birds released to spread the word in Corellia, her kingdom to let the lords, and common people know.
Rey’s thirteen summers couldn’t have prepared her for such a devastating loss. Staring out her window she felt hopeless and alone. A child-like fear shook through her as she grappled with his unexpected death. She gave into the grief. Her body racked with sobs. She screamed once and then put her hand in her mouth to stifle more. She bit down on her closed fist drawing blood, she barely registered the pain. A part of her was grieving her father, and she knew the end of her childhood.
‘’Rose”
Her head snapped up. The voice was her father’s. The word spoken kind and gentle, a whisper in the air. She looked around the room almost expecting to see him, a desperate hope that this was nothing but a bad dream. The stillness of the room was her only answer. Rey wasn’t sure if the voice was real or imagined, but it let her know what she needed to do next. Her time to selfishly nurse her grief was over, her younger sister, Rose, needed her.
She left her room and headed the short distance to her sister’s chambers. Her thoughts drifted to the fact that they now had lost both their parents. Queen Kathryn, their mother, had died giving birth to her little sister Rose. The whisper of the castle had been the queen had caught pregnant too soon after the birth of her first child Rey. The space between the two sisters was but a year. Rey never asked her father if that was true. When he talked about her mother there was always a heavy sadness in his voice.
All her information of her mother came from her father’s advisor and closest friend Yoda. He was from the far country, a land across the sea. The common tongue wasn’t his native tongue so his responses at times came out in a speech pattern that was as unique as he was. When she’d finally had enough of the rumors she asked him for the truth.
“Hard, the birth was. Strong, your mother was. She used the force to make sure your sister lived.”
When she questioned what he meant about the force he gave her a knowing smile.
“You feel between yourself and nature the pull. The balance between light and dark. Flex it like your mother, you can, in time maybe even control it.”
Yoda hadn’t answered anymore of her questions that day. He stated that one doesn’t get all the answers as some must simply be learned or discovered. Rey had set to work on finding her answers, it had been harder since she was a girl, her very gender bringing with it set expectations. Her father, however, indulged her. He allowed her to sit with him in council, read the ancient text and scripts on war and power and often would challenge her on topics of philosophy and political debate. She knew people thought her father did this because he wished her a son but she knew better, he simply loved her and accepted her wild spirit. The true court outcry came when he gifted her a sword and allowed her to learn trades no woman of noble birth would dare venture. At first no one but her father and Yoda would teach her. Time was on her side and as her skills advanced so did the acceptance of it. Her aptitude for it shown through and soon her father’s military men softened to her and joined in to teach her among other things archery, horsemanship and stealth.
The mystery of the Force had only come from Yoda. Her father, had at one time wielded it but Kathryn death had changed something in him. From her talks with Yoda she understood he felt deep guilt for not being able to save her mother. Yoda’s lessons often involved meditation, centering the self to nature. She was starting to learn how to quiet the noise and focus on objects close and far. She had just last week been meditating in her favorite spot in the garden under the willow tree. She had been able to see a deer off in the forest, not only see it but feel its heart beat. The doe was giving birth. Rey was there but not there, and the entire experience had left her in awe and humbled by the power of it.
The years had passed with each summer allowing her to grow more adept in her training. It almost ended the summer her father met Phasma. She was the daughter of a Lord in a small province in Corellia. Rey had taken an instant dislike to her. Lords often brought eligible daughters to meet her father. Her father was very kind to each but it was clear at the end of the visit he had no plans to remarry. Phasma, like all the rest had her eyes on the crown. She was rather plain and hid it badly behind painted make-up. She made sugary remarks to Rey and her sister bringing dolls and sweets. Rey however saw the smile as plastered, her eyes told Rey she was measuring them as either allies or threats. Rey made sure Phasma knew which side she was on.
Phasma with all her wiles should’ve been but a passing guest in the hall. The fortnight she’d stayed had been different. To this day whispers in the castle still persisted that the King’s wine had been drugged. Rey’s father had shown nothing but polite courtesy to Phasma, so it was a shock to the entire castle when Phasma’s father discovered them in bed together. Being king and her being a Lord’s daughter didn’t entitle him to marry her, but his deep sense of honor did. By the end of the fortnight Rey had a new step-mother and by winter a new brother.
The relationship never improved between her and her new mother. She often marveled at how she could dislike Phasma so but absolutely love her little brother Poe. A beautiful baby he was born with a head full of curls and dark brown eyes. As soon as he could walk he was getting into trouble. His daring spirit and mischievous smile won her heart and to her relief found him to possess her father’s heart and chaff at his mother’s attempts to control. Rey grudgingly admitted if he was given the right teaching he would make a good king one day.
Phasma may have gotten her crown but it did not make her queen. She had tried to control Rey and when that didn’t work had tried to ship her off to a nunnery. Her father quashed any plans Phasma had of getting rid of her. His temper, while rare, had shown itself to Phasma when she’d all but packed Rey up for the convent. Her step-mother had lost the war on that front but had managed to win smaller battles. Her father had agreed, to Rey’s disgust, that she needed to be more lady-like. She had to wear dresses unless in the yard, and her hair had to be fixed in a proper noblewoman’s style. She could no longer sit cross legged with the men but had to walk and sit as befits a princess. Her father allowed her to continue her studies and training, so Rey had born the stipulations with as much grace as she could muster. Rey tried not to think about the control Phasma would wield now that her father was gone.
Rey was at her sister’s door. She knocked softly but heard no answers, she opened the door anyways. Her sister was sitting by the window. Rey was told her sister had taken all the beautiful traits of their mother. Rose had her mother’s fair skin and thick black hair. She wasn’t tall like Rey but had a petite figure which was already decidedly feminine. Their looks contrasted sharply as Rey had sandy brown hair that was unruly and often had to be braided to make it behave. Her figure was muscular and lean from hours of calisthenics. Fair skin she could’ve had and maybe even the hands of a lady but the sun had deeply tanned her skin and the sword had left permanent callouses on her fingers. Rey’s most defining feature was her eyes. A soft amber brown that her father joked often changed color with her moods. “Your eyes are honey light when you’re happy, and dark as pitch when you’re mad” he’d tease. Rey wondered what color they were now.
Rose didn’t turn to look at her. She was holding something in her hand. Rey realized it was her father’s shirt. She went to her, sitting on the small bench next to her. She gently put her hands over Rose’s. Her sister looked at her than, her soft brown eyes red rimmed from crying.
“I was hemming his shirt when they told me.” Rose said in explanation, though Rey really didn’t need one. “They said it was a quick death, no pain.” Her voice quiet at the end.
Rey didn’t know if Rose was trying to give comfort to her or rather hang on to some comfort for herself. She only knew their father had woken up unwell. He had been in the stables getting ready to mount his horse when he’d stopped. The poor squire had gone to help but had been waved off. Her father said he was feeling unwell. Those that saw him that day would later attest he had woken up looking off. His color pale and his breathing a little labored. Her father never made it out of the stables. He had gone a few steps before collapsing, his hand gripping his chest. Help had come but once Yoda arrived he only had to look at her father to sadly shake his head and have the body taken for burial preparations.
Rey reached over and pulled her sister close. Rose sobbed and she felt her eyes grow hot. A soft shuffle at the door alerted Rey that they were not alone. A little boy with sad eyes stood in the doorway. He clutched a wooden sword his father had made for him.
“Come here Poe.” Rey said gently opening her arms to him.
He didn’t walk but shot out to her with a fierce cry. He clung to her his head of curls underneath her chin. Rose ran her hand through his hair. Arms intertwined they held each other. Allowing themselves for a moment to be three lost little children grieving their father and what was lost forever.